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Authors: Stacey Joy Netzel

Mistletoe Mischief (6 page)

BOOK: Mistletoe Mischief
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“Where we headed?” He started the truck to reverse from the parking spot.

Marissa gave him their address a couple miles northeast of Pulaski, the girls’ whispers and giggles in the back seat their background music.

“That’s only a couple miles from my house.” Eric navigated onto the state highway. “If you don’t mind stopping, I’m almost positive I have a pair of crutches in my basement from when my sister broke her leg a few years ago. You might want to use them until you can see your doctor on Monday.”

Much as she wanted to get home, crutches would definitely help, so she nodded. Fifteen minutes later, when they turned onto an older residential street, Reese’s head popped up between the seats. “We’re going to our house? Cool! Can I show Heather my room?”

Eric glanced up into the rearview mirror. “Sit back in your seat, Reese. We’re only stopping for a minute, Mrs. Wilder is tired.”

“Aww, man,” both girls chorused with disappointment.

Marissa loved how he put it on her. Earlier he’d been the fun one and now she ruined everything because she was tired. Biting back a sigh of annoyance, she resigned herself to a little longer enduring her conflicting emotions in his presence. “I guess we could stay for a couple minutes.”

The moment he turned into his driveway, a beautifully carved sign next to his mailbox caught her attention.
Riley Custom Creations
. When they rounded a corner of the drive, all it took was one look at the log house set back on the wooded lot, and she wanted her own tour.

“Wow, this is beautiful.”

“Daddy and Uncle Mark built it,” Reese announced.

Marissa raised her brows. “Really?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Eric said.

“Daddy also makes tables and chairs and stuff,” Reese added.

Eric hit the button on the visor for the automatic garage opener, but parked outside while the stall door in front of them rose. After he opened the truck door, Reese climbed out so fast he barely got out of his seat.

“Come on, Heather, let’s go!”

Marissa couldn’t help a smile at their excitement. It was hard to believe the two had only met at summer school three weeks ago, thanks to a realignment of the school district boundaries.

“Those two are like miniature tornados,” Eric muttered with a grin when they’d disappeared inside. In direct contrast to his lack of assistance getting her into the truck, now he hurried around to her side and grasped her elbow to steady her on the climb down. Awareness raced along her limbs. Her skin tingled from the warmth of his touch.

“Come put your foot up in the living room while go I dig those crutches out of the downstairs closet.”

He slowly led her through the garage and kitchen, to an open-concept living room with huge picture windows on one side, and a railed loft above. Giggles and thumps could be heard up an iron and half log staircase to the right of the loft, revealing the location of Reese’s room.

Marissa stared at the gently spiraling staircase in amazement. Completely unexpected in a log home, somehow it looked just right.

“Make yourself at home.” Eric pointed to a dark brown couch. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He disappeared down a second set of spiral stairs, which must lead to a basement. Curiosity brought her to one of the windows instead of the couch. It appeared the basement was a walkout because to her right there was a large, split-level porch off the kitchen, with steps leading down to a patio directly below where she stood. A swing set and play area for Reese sat on one side of the expansive backyard, and another log structure dominated the other side. A sign identical to the one by the mailbox hung above a set of double doors, identifying the structure as Eric’s workshop.

His grass needed mowing, and a pile of sawdust and leftover wood pieces covered the workshop porch, but otherwise the backyard looked like a picture out of a country homes magazine. She pivoted slowly to take in the carpeted living room, loving the knotty pine walls and a fieldstone fireplace. Her glimpse of the kitchen left her equally impressed by its bright, spacious dining area, a gorgeous hunter green tile countertop and stunning cabinets that glowed rich amber beneath their varnish.

She’d love to go into his kitchen to explore, but her ankle had begun to throb again, so she made her way to the couch and sat down. Her gaze continued to take in the nuances of the space around her, and she realized with surprise that beyond the actual house itself, he hadn’t done much with the place. Yet, because of the beauty of the wood, the bare walls and tabletops were not immediately noticeable.

The empty end table between the couch and a worn chair caught her attention. Made of a square of wood and four black iron legs, it was a simple design, but after one look at the top, she knew she wouldn’t want to put anything on it, either. Fall colored leaves of red, orange and yellow spilled across the unstained pine wood that was covered with coats of varnish until no leaf tip or stem marred the surface. She ran her fingers across it, enjoying the cool, silky smoothness beneath her touch.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs a moment before Eric reappeared from the basement with the crutches in hand.

“Is this one of yours?” Marissa asked, still caressing the table.

“That is Reese’s accidental creation,” he said, standing next to the couch by her. “I had other plans for the top, but last fall she brought in an armful of leaves as I was working and dropped them on the table so she could show me her favorite one.” He pointed to a brilliant red maple leaf. “We finished the table together, and she decided it needed to be right here so I’d think about her when she’s at her mother’s.”

His expression told her he cherished the memory and she thought about how Ted never did anything like that with Heather. More conflicting evidence to shake her weakening resolve not to get involved with Eric. The heart of the problem was that her past-biased inner arguments didn’t stack up against the proof in front of her face.

“It’s a great piece,” Marissa said past the sudden lump in her throat.

“Thanks. We think so, too.” Eric lifted a crutch. “You want to give these a try?”

Marissa stood up and fit them under arms, but they were a little too high until Eric adjusted them. After taking a turn around the living room, she gave him a reluctant yet grateful smile. “These really help, thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Hi, Mom.”

She looked up to see Heather and Reese grinning over the loft railing at them. “Hey. Come on down now, we need to get going.”

“Aw, Mommm. Can’t we stay longer?”

Marissa shook her head. “Sorry, honey—”

“You really should stay off your feet for tonight,” Eric interrupted. “Why don’t you stay, and I’ll order dinner for all of us.”

Her gratitude for the crutches vanished when both girls raced down the stairs in full-throttle begging mode. He’d done it again, asking in front of them so if she refused she’d be the bad guy. She forced another smile to cover her annoyance, but kept her tone firm. “I’m sure you have plans, we don’t want to intrude.”

“Our plans consist of calling Figaro’s Pizza and roasting marshmallows for s’mores after dinner.”

Over the heads of the still-pleading girls, she glared at him for not taking her obvious hint. He met her gaze, then crossed his arms over his chest. Unlike earlier when he seemed confused about her reserved demeanor, now he just appeared defiant. A determined glint in his eyes sent her heart hammering against her ribs in anticipation.

Good Lord, it isn’t fair.
She broke eye contact in an effort to maintain her waffling resentment.

Heather tugged on her arm. “Come on, Mom, you
love
Figaro’s.”

She didn’t even have to look up to see Eric’s smug grin at that statement.

“Daddy says I make the best s’mores—I’ll make you one,” Reese added.

She looked from one precious face to the other, knowing she’d lost but not sure how to concede gracefully. And without Eric thinking he’d won, the slimy snake. Unfortunately, her mind seemed to have jumped on the bandwagon with her body, because she couldn’t think of a single sentence that would put him in his place and accept his invitation to dinner at the same time.

She concentrated on Reese. “Do you burn the marshmallows, or toast them golden brown?”

“I toast them,” she answered. “Daddy always burns his, that’s why he says mine are better.”
 

“Then as long as
you
make my s’mores, we’ll stay.”

“All right!” Heather threw her arms around Marissa’s waist, making her hop back a step to keep their balance. “Thanks, Mom.”

Marissa hugged her daughter back and finally allowed a quick glance at Eric. He smiled, but surprisingly, no triumph gleamed in his expression. He dropped his gaze to his daughter.

“Reese, I had a surprise for later, but since Heather is here, I might as well tell you now…I finished the treehouse this week.”

Reese’s eyes rounded and a grin split her face. She launched herself into her father’s arms. “You’re the best!”

“Why don’t you two go check it out?”

Reese wriggled free of Eric’s hold. Heather wasted no time running after her through the French doors in the kitchen and down the porch stairs to the patio. Marissa maneuvered to the window with the crutches and watched them cross the yard to a tree in the back.
 

Once they were up the ladder of the tree house, and she was sure they would be occupied for a good long time, she rounded on Eric with her heart pounding.

“You’ve got some nerve.”

 

Chapter Six

 

 

Marissa’s verbal attack sent Eric’s eyebrows skyward. She wore a fierce scowl, her body as rigid as a piece of lumber in his shop. He decided it was high time he figured out what the hell was going on.

“For what?” He shoved his hands into his pockets to hide his clenched fingers. “Kissing you under the mistletoe, or offering dinner?”

Her cheeks flushed crimson. From anger, or did she remember their kiss with the same sensual clarity as he did?

“For making me the Wicked Witch.”

Anger.
The desire to stride over and haul her against him battled his control. “When did I do that?”

“When you brought up the ride home, coming inside, and staying for dinner, always in front of the girls, where
I’d
look like the bad guy if I said no.”

Ah…yeah, she did have a point, but in his defense, only the last time had been intentional. “What do you expect?” he asked, fingering the crushed mistletoe leaves in his pocket. “With all the conflicting signals you’ve been giving out today, I had to use any ammunition I could find.”

“Oh, please.” Yet she avoided his gaze by limping toward the kitchen. “Only a jerk uses kids for his own personal gain.”

“And what the hell would I have to gain from this?” He gave a disbelieving laugh as he followed her. “You’re the one who switched gears the moment we got back from the reindeer rides. I’d just like to know what happened.”

“So it’s my fault?” She shook her head. “How typical.”

He released a frustrated breath and took hold of her arm, turning her to face him. “I’m not blaming you, Marissa, but how do you explain
see you around
right after
I like what you’re thinking
? And don’t even try to tell me you didn’t know exactly what was on my mind.”

His gaze lowered. Even now, the lure of her lips, the desire to really, truly taste her, was hard to resist.

She shrugged his hand away and took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m just not interested anymore, did
that
cross your mind?”

“Maybe? Anymore?” He dipped his chin to get a better look at her face, but she frowned and turned her back to him. He relaxed a little with her silent answer and leaned in close against her back to speak next to her ear. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She ducked her head to the side, tossing him an annoyed glance over her shoulder. “No, we’re not, and I’m sure the girls would like dinner sometime tonight.”

“Marissa. If you want me to leave you alone, all you have to do is say so.”

She drew in a breath as if prepared with a reply, but then…nothing. After a few seconds of silence, she suddenly straightened her shoulders. “Yes, of course that’s what I want. I want you to leave me alone.”

He chuckled. “Who are you trying to convince, me or you?”

She turned around. “What?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t like me.”

She gave a short laugh, her gaze fixed on his chest. “Wow, I should’ve known with your looks you’d turn out to be arrogant.”

A loud snort accompanied the slide of the screen door behind him. “Eric is arrogant in spite of his looks, not because of them.”

Eric spun around at the sound of his brother’s voice. He flashed him a look.
Impeccable timing as always, bro
. Mark lifted his shoulder with a smart-ass grin and walked up to Marissa with his hand extended.

“Mark Riley. And he can’t be arrogant about his looks because
I’m
the good-looking one.”

She shook his hand, and Eric swore her laugh held a note of relief.

BOOK: Mistletoe Mischief
6.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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