Her Mistletoe Man. Carolyn Greene
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tricks and fancy maneuvers I’ve learned over the years. I won’t even charge you.”
Tucker rubbed his chin, scratching the newly sprouted bristles. “That’s, uh, very generous of you.”
Sitting beside the elderly woman, Ruth smiled at Tucker as she patted her aunt’s hand. “If you don’t have time for a lesson,” she told him, “perhaps you’d rather take a look at the assortment of rugs Aunt Ada has hooked.”
Brooke giggled as the cat was let out of the bag. However, judging from Ruth’s careful selection of words, it was clear they were not to let the elderly craftswoman know she’d been the butt of a naughty joke. She’d surely die of embarrassment.
Tucker took the hint and decided that changing the subject would lessen the chances of Ada finding out what was so funny.
“In that case,” he confided aloud to the girl beside him, “I guess you could say I was once in a motorcycle gang.”
“Really?” Brooke looked skeptical.
“Yep. When I was eight I joined a gang of kids who all wished we had motorcycles.” He nodded thoughtfully. “We even got lick-and-stick tattoos.”
Although Brooke rolled her eyes in the age-old tradition of teenagers, Tucker was rewarded with a smile from Ruth.
He liked her smile. He supposed it was the infamous Babcock smile since many of the people sitting at the table shared a similar feature. But hers was somehow different. Although her sister’s smile was more stunning in an overt sort of way, Ruth’s seemed to hint that there was quite a bit more to her than what showed on the surface.
And despite her understandable apprehension toward him, he wanted to get to know her better. Explore those marvelous Babcock lips. Make them turn upward with satisfaction like a cat that’s had its fill of cream.
She averted her gaze and scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. Tucker watched, transfixed, as she brought it up to those full, lush lips that pursed to receive it.
“When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal like this?” Oren demanded.
Reluctantly, Tucker pulled his attention away from the lovely woman who had held him in her spell and turned it to Oren. He surveyed the blue china plate that was heaped with mashed potatoes, green beans, corn pudding, succotash, hot biscuits and meatloaf smothered in onion gravy. The last time he’d eaten like this was…well, when he’d been here with the Newlands.
“Oh, about eleven or twelve years, I suppose.”
“You poor thing,” said Aunt Shirley as she passed him the bowl of potatoes. “Eat up, dear. We have plenty. And there’s pumpkin pie for dessert.”
The rest of the meal passed in a blur, with everyone trying to get him to take more than his fill.
When everyone was finished, he picked up his plate as he’d always done with the Newlands and started to carry it to the kitchen. At the doorway, he paused. Emboldened by the family’s unconditional acceptance, he considered the opportunity that presented itself. When Ruth, apparently unaware of his hesitation, collided into his back, he decided to go for it.
Recovering, she tried to peer around him. “What’s the holdup?”
Turning around, Tucker took care to block the doorway to keep her from moving past the threshold. With a satisfied grin tugging at his lips, he met her questioning gaze and pointed to the cluster of greenery that dangled above them.
He glanced at the woman beside him to see how she was taking this obvious setup.
Not well. Her brown eyes flashed a warning at her giggling cousin, but it was too late. The rest of the relatives were now in on it and cheering them on.
Tucker flashed her his most encouraging smile. “The first Christmas kiss of the season is good luck.”
“Really? I never heard of that tradition.”
“Neither did I,” Tucker admitted. “I just made it up.”
The kinfolk behind them formed a semicircle to get a better look. Though Tucker found the idea of kissing her quite appealing, he would have liked it better if they’d been here alone.
“Just do it and get it over with,” said Aunt Shirley. “If you make us old people stand here much longer, our varicose veins are going to explode.”
Tucker looked at Ruth and gave a questioning shrug.
She returned with a resigned sigh. “We may as well do it, because they won’t leave us alone until we do.”
He took the plate from her and set them both on the sideboard. Then he lifted his arms, unsure whether he should hold her or just bend down and give her a little peck on the cheek. When she moved forward, face upturned and lips slightly puckered, he immediately discarded the latter idea.
Her arms hung by her sides, a clear indication that he was not to take this too seriously. He rested his hands on her shoulders. Although the bulky sweater made her look soft and round, her arms were lean and firm under his touch.
They each tilted to their right but still managed to bump noses. She looked away, embarrassed. While she was distracted, he touched his mouth to hers, the movement brief yet decisive. And more than a little pleasurable.
She tasted of sweetened iced tea, and her lips were warm, soft and surprisingly welcoming. Her eyes closed for an awe-inspiring second. For the briefest of instants, Tucker almost forgot they were surrounded by family.
When their lips parted, she met his gaze, all signs of embarrassment gone. Her clear, golden-brown eyes appeared to be smiling, as if she may have enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.
The first Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. As far as he was concerned, it was indeed a lucky kiss.
Feeling magnanimous after his victory, he lifted his head to thank his lucky stars and the little green ball of leaves that dangled over their heads.
“Oops, I was mistaken,” he told her without a hint of remorse. “That’s not mistletoe…it’s holly.”
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