Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (Holiday Romance Collection #3)

8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Noelle

W orst sister award goes to: Me.

I forgot the mistletoe.

The. Mistletoe.

The one big, pivotal piece to Beau’s Christmas Eve proposal. I forgot it. Just like Mom knew I would. Shiiitttt .

Left it hiding behind a massive Christmas Poinsettia, carefully wrapped and ready to take with me when we’d locked up. I was supposed to grab it and stuff it into the pocket of my jacket when Val wasn’t looking. But it was like she was everywhere , and I didn’t have the chance without her seeing me, and then we left, and I forgot it.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Goose.”

Spinning, I glare over at Willow. “ Not funny . I need you to distract Mom and Val and Beau.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “What did you do?”

Licking my lips, I mumble, “I forgot the mistletoe.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that—”

“ I forgot the mistletoe at the shop! ” I whisper hiss through clenched teeth, glancing at the doorway that leads from the living room into the kitchen, where Val and Beau and our mother are working on the final touches for dinner. Beau and Theo’s parents should be here any second, so that will work as a distraction to my sudden absence…

“You’re so dead,” Willow laughs, shaking her head.

“Shut up,” I mumble, pressing my fingers to my temples in an effort to stave off the headache I can feel forming. “I can fix this. I can sneak out and be back before they even realize I left—”

A knock at the front door is my saving grace. Bolting forward, I shout, “I’ve got it!”

Swinging the door open, my smile falls. “Oh, it’s just you.”

Luck, Willow’s boyfriend, just smirks. “Uh, nice to see you, too, Noelle.”

Willow pushes me aside and Luck steps in over the threshold to close the door, then leans down to kiss her. “Merry Christmas, Goldie.”

“Merry Christmas,” my sister whispers against his lips and I fake a dramatic gag. She glares at me from around his bicep. She pushes Luck toward the kitchen. “Mom, Val, and Beau are in the kitchen. Give me just a second with my sister—”

His deep, rumbling chuckle echoes down the hall as he grins over at me before walking away. Willow spins to face me and opens her mouth.

Another knock on the front door has me spinning in place and yanking the door open. My smile this time is genuine as Marnie and Drew Collins say in unison, “Merry Christmas!” Ushering them inside, I’m pulled into tight hugs by both of them. Marnie smells like cookies and vanilla. She’s one of those ‘everyone’s auntie’ moms that everyone in the world should have the fortune of having at some point in their lives.

Drew Collins is the epitome of the ‘guys guy’ dad. Summertime the man could only be seen wearing grass stained, white New Balance sneakers, white socks pulled halfway up his calves, khaki cargo shorts, and typically a hideously printed Hawaiian button-down shirt. Now, they weren’t always Hawaiian prints, mind you. My personal favorite—that I myself gifted both Drew and Dad for Christmas several years ago—has brightly printed birds of paradise flowers on it, but superimposed between all those flowers are all of us kids’ faces. And not just our smiling faces. Oh no. The aim of the game was to get a headshot with the wackiest and most obscene face we could manage. Marnie hates them, and Mom scolded all of us, but Dad and Drew loved them.

When Dad passed, Marnie had taken Dad’s and had teddy bears made for Mom, Willow, Val, and myself out of the fabric. I hadn’t seen Drew wear his since Dad’s passing.

Today though—as usual for any kind of holiday or special gathering—I’m assuming Marnie had laid out clothes for Drew, because he has none of his usual tacky dad flair. Soft brown loafers that have seen better days adorn his feet, but his khaki slacks are clean and pressed, his red, white, and green plaid button down tucked neatly into his waistband.

“Merry Christmas kiddo,” he says with a smile, reaching up and ruffling the hair on the top of my head. In his other hand he carries an oversized tote bag that’s loaded down with wrapped gifts. Marnie carries a platter of cookies toward the kitchen, and then I can hear Mom’s excited greeting. She’s going to be a wreck today. Or blow the surprise with her excitement.

I glance down the hall at Willow, notching my chin toward Drew and then the door. She rolls her eyes, but snags Drew by twining her arm through his elbow and leading him toward the kitchen, too. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Drew!”

Once they’re all out of view, I shove my feet into my snow boots and bend over to lace them quickly. Snagging my coat off the rack by the door, I barely have my arms in when I’m swinging the door open to step outside.

I’m brought up short when I slam into a hard body, though. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh and I stumble. One strong, muscular arm wraps around me and I feel more than hear the chuckle that rumbles out of the chest I’m pressed against.

The soft velvet against my cheek is decadent, and when my eyes focus, I realize I’ve just crashed into Santa.

Raising my eyes, I glare up into the twinkling blue eyes staring down at me, the corners crinkling with his wide, perfectly white smile.

“Ho Ho Ho, Noelle. Have you been a naughty girl this year?”

I open my mouth to snap at him, but my eyes snag on the arm he has raised above us. And then I see, pinched between his fingers, a sprig of mistletoe. The sharp retort dies on my lips as a delighted squeak escapes me.

I’m so happy I could kiss him.

So I do.