Under the Mistletoe, page 14
part #1 of Home to Heritage || Book Five Series
She brought the collar of his T-shirt to her face and drew in a deep breath. It had the scent of soap but, underneath that, the musky hint of Logan.
Forget could fall for, she was falling. Hard.
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up.
Logan
Pancakes will be ready soon. I’d let you sleep more but your stocking event starts in two hours.
Devin sat up with a jolt. Two hours. She really had lost touch with life. She jumped out of bed and walked into the bathroom when her phone buzzed again.
Logan
Also, my family is due to show up in about thirty minutes so you might want to eat yours before they do.
Right. They were alone, but not for long, and she couldn’t help but want to hold on to this moment a few minutes longer. She glanced at the mirror. Her curls had a mind of their own this morning. She finger-combed them back into a messy bun and secured it. She brushed her teeth and then pulled on her jeans from the night before, but the sweater was too scratchy for this early. Maybe she’d stick to the T-shirt, even if it was a little chilly.
She opened the door to the hall and found a large, navy sweatshirt folded neatly in the hallway. Devin couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she pulled it over her head. His scent and warmth enveloped her again.
Yup, completely falling.
Devin walked down the hall toward the kitchen, passing photos of the family at different stages. The French doors to the kitchen were open, and the faint music of “We’ve Got Tonight” floated in the air.
She stepped into the kitchen, but Logan’s back was to her. He wore black joggers with a gray hoodie and a pink apron over that, his hair still damp from his shower.
There was something so domestic, so right about this moment. She walked over and rested her back on the counter next to him. “I didn’t take you for a Bob Seger fan. What happened to the Christmas carols?”
Cal hurried over to her and buried his nose in her thigh. She reached down in greeting but kept her eyes on Logan.
“Christmas songs were my mom’s. I have an eclectic taste.” He dropped the whisk into the bowl, a smile stretching across his face as he took in the sweatshirt. “Looks good on you.”
“I think so.”
His face shifted into something more somber as he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. “I know emotions were running high last night.”
Oh, maybe this was not going to go the way she thought.
He scooped out the batter and added it to the skillet. “I want you to know there are no expectations.”
Expectations from her or him? Was he trying to backtrack out of this or give her an out?
When he glanced at her, his face pinched. “I think I’m saying this all wrong.”
He eyed the cooking pancakes a moment before looking back at her. “There are things—well mainly one thing—about me you should know before—”
A car honked from the driveway, sending Cal into a barking frenzy as he ran toward the door. Logan flipped the pancakes, then shrugged. “Maybe we should talk about this later.”
“Okay.” Timing didn’t seem to be on her side lately. “Maybe after the stocking party.”
His shoulders relaxed at that.
I’m not so good with the talking. She wouldn’t push him. She would wait until he was ready. But she’d love it if he gave a clue if he was leaning for or against what happened—or almost happened last night. After all, something she should know sounded very ominous.
Because You should know I like cats and I know you’re allergic was very different than You should know I’m a secret agent and have a whole other life you don’t know about.
But that was crazy. Then again, the way he’d frantically hidden his laptop and papers that were in the guestroom yesterday had been a bit odd. Logan was no spy, but he had almost gone pale when she’d hinted he might be Victor Holt’s editor. No doubt he was supposed to keep parts of his job confidential, but that reaction had seemed less professional and more personal. Something about it didn’t add up.
The unknown of it all twisted Devin’s insides, and suddenly she wasn’t so hungry. “I think I’ll go get that shower now.”
She hurried back to the bedroom, shutting herself in as the front door opened. She needed to stay calm, not let her imagination run away with itself.
Maybe a shower would clear her head. She walked to closet and opened it—only there were no towels to be seen. She started to shut it when a familiar purple cover grabbed her attention. It was just sitting on a stack of large boxes. She picked up the book. The Defender.
They had another copy? She blinked and examined the boxes. Each was labeled with a black Sharpie. Two were labeled The Defender. Another box was labeled The Keeper. And the last two were labeled The Fighter. He didn’t have just one other copy. He had at least a hundred—of all three books.
A half dozen separate past conversations merged together, a laughable idea becoming very much a real possibility as the pieces clicked into place.
Editors weren’t given this many copies…but authors were.
Her breath halted. She set the book back on the stack, shut the door, and leaned against it.
Logan Kingsley was Victor Holt.
She closed her eyes and contemplated that morning’s chapter. The reason it felt completely reminiscent of the night before was because it was them. He’d written them into a story. He always said he wasn’t good with words, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was a master craftsman with words. Just not spoken ones.
But when had he written it? Moments of it matched their encounter so clearly that he had to have written it after she’d gone to bed.
If you need help, I can help…
Do you have time?
He hadn’t had time. He’d had a chapter to write, and yet he’d given up his whole evening for her. He hadn’t even acted rushed or inconvenienced. The contrast between that and the fact her parents couldn’t even take a few hours for dinner wasn’t lost on her.
There was a pawing at her door, and she walked over and opened it. It was only Cal, and he bounded into the room and jumped on the bed. She shut the door and eyed the pup. “You want to tell me if your owner is Victor Holt?”
Cal just rolled to his back, waiting for a belly rub.
“All right, sweet boy.” She buried her fingers in his thick fur.
Is Cal short for something?
Yup.
She eyed the pup again. “Calavar?”
The dog jumped at his name and nosed under her hand.
“Right.” Then she sank onto the bed next to him.
Oh, shoot. She had made a complete fool of herself when she’d found The Defender on Thanksgiving Day—in front of him, in front of his family.
Then there were the fan pages, the message boards, all of it. He’d let her go on and on and never said a word. Was all this about feeding his ego?
No way. The hunger, the need, the longing on his face last night when he’d asked her if she had known at Christmas if it would have made a difference. He couldn’t fake that.
His going pale when she’d suggested he was the editor made sense now. And so did the incomplete thought he’d left her with…There are things about me you should know before—Well, he wasn’t a spy. But he did have a whole other life.
She was pretty sure he’d been about to tell her before his parents arrived. But he hadn’t, and now the secret still hung out there. Only now she had a secret too, because she couldn’t very well walk out there in front of his family and admit she knew.
He’d promised that they’d talk after the event, and she’d have to wait for that. But he’d better admit it soon, because she was bad at keeping secrets from people she cared about.
The plan had been simple enough when he woke up. He’d talk to Devin about Victor Holt over breakfast, they would finally get that kiss, and then he’d ask her on their first official date before helping her at the stocking party. But all that had blown up when his parents texted that they were on their way.
By the time Devin emerged from her room, it had been almost time to leave. And he didn’t know if she was nervous about the event or the thought of the unfinished kiss, but she had talked nonstop about nothing in particular from his parents’ door until they arrived at the tree farm. She hadn’t stopped long enough for him to say what he was dying to say.
And once he’d got everything set up at the Sugar Shack, Devin had turned panicked eyes on him after finding out Cole was going to be a no-show. So he’d done the only thing he could think of—agreed to help in any way he could. He really should have thought that through first.
In the mirror, he took in the big red suit with fur-trimmed cuffs and a brass buckle. At least the fabric was quality and not like the inside of a cheap Halloween costume. It was sort of like wearing velvet sweats with a pillow around his stomach. Now, the beard was another matter. He adjusted it again, trying to reduce the itch on his face. Nope.
The door opened, and Devin walked in with her handy clipboard clutched to her chest. The silver charm bracelet that hung from her wrist sported the new stocking charm. He’d given two boxes—the stocking and the Santa hat—to Hannah when he’d first arrived. If he’d known he’d be playing jolly ol’ St. Nick today, he would’ve told her to give Devin that one first. But she’d get it sometime this week. He’d decided it was best to ask Hannah to leave them on her porch. The last thing he needed was another chance to be caught by her roommate’s pooch.
Devin glanced at him, then back at her clipboard. The girl was still strung tighter than a new guitar. She finally met his eyes in the mirror and bit back a smile, her blue eyes shining. “Thank you for doing this. Cole was supposed to be Santa, but with the snow, he had to help clear a few trees that came down in the night that were blocking people’s driveways.”
“No problem.” This was it. He just needed to ask her out. “Devin, there’s something—”
“You forgot this.” She handed Santa’s red hat to him, her gaze landing everywhere but on him.
He took it and turned it over in his hands. “Right, but there—”
“About ready in here?” Fallon appeared in the doorway dressed as Mrs. Claus, complete with a gray wig and spectacles. “The natives are restless.”
“Yup.” Devin stepped back, leaving Fallon with Logan.
He tugged the red hat on and checked his reflection to make sure all his dark hair was tucked up under. Maybe it was time for a haircut. He put the clear spectacles on. Time to be Santa. How bad could it be?
Two hours later, he had an answer. Bad. Sure, most of the kids were cute, but then there was the kid who had poked him in the eye. Another kid had spent the whole time trying to steal his hat. And one kid had just kept stomping on Logan’s foot as if it were a game of Whac-a-Mole. There’d been quite a bit of snot, a bit of crying, and one little girl who’d screamed like he’d been an evil clown with a knife.
And all this happened while he got to watch Greyson hovering by Devin, helping with anything she needed. She was all smiles for him, but whenever she made eye contact with Logan, her eyes darted away in panic.
But now they were down to the final few kids, and soon he could get this thing off and go find Devin and figure out why she was acting so off. Maybe she really did regret sharing so much last night.
Logan motioned the next child forward. It was Tyce from the Barlows’ house. The boy ran up and jumped on Logan’s knee. Logan bit back a groan. He was definitely going to have bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “And what do you want to tell Santa?”
The kid pulled out a roughly folded piece of paper from his pocket and drew a deep breath. “I want a squirt gun, remote control car, the new Xbox, a horse, and a ride on the next rocket that goes to space.”
Well, that escalated quickly.
But before Logan could respond, Tyce jumped down and ran off as if his job was done.
Okay then.
Easton was next in line, and Logan motioned him forward. The kid walked up with his hands in his pockets and stared at Logan. Then raised one eyebrow. “Really?”
Logan shrugged and lowered his voice. “The little ones like it.”
Easton glanced back at Alani, who was next, then at Logan. “I’m not sitting on your lap.”
“Good.” Logan laughed as he pointed to the bench next to him. “That’s what that’s for.”
Easton sat down, then leaned close, lowering his voice. “It’s probably better that it’s you anyway. Maybe you can actually help.”
What did he mean by help?
“I want a home for us.” The kid’s voice cracked, and the sound nearly broke Logan.
“What about the Barlows? I thought they were in the process of adoption.”
“I’m not stupid. They haven’t talked about it in weeks. They’re always whispering and exchanging looks. I think we’re too much. It’s like all of a sudden we’re in their way. I don’t blame them. No one wants to take on three kids at once.”
He turned his head away as if trying to gain his composure, then looked back, his eyes slightly redder. “I know we can be a lot. I could be more helpful, Tyce is a spaz, and Alani is quiet. But I just”—he twisted his hands in his lap—“I want a bedroom I can put up a poster in. I want a permanent mom and dad. I want to play Little League this spring and know I’ll get to finish the season and not get moved halfway through. And I just have this gut feeling we’re going to be moving again soon. New town. New friends.” Easton watched his sister a moment, then ducked his head to hide tears as he wiped them away. “I want it for all of us.”
What was Logan supposed to say to that? But evidently, Easton didn’t need an answer, because he stood and walked away. Before Logan could even blink, Alani stood in front of him, her eyes wide. She pointed to his leg and then turned so he could lift her.
As soon as Logan settled her on his leg, she rested her back against him, tucking her head into his shoulder. Everything in him cracked open. Suddenly, he wanted everything Easton had listed for them too. But what could he do? He was a single guy who lived in a remote cabin.
He glanced up and met Devin’s eyes across the room. And he truly understood what she had meant when she said it wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it. After a moment, he set Alani down, and she ran off to join her brothers.
But something felt wrong, like part of him had run away with her. He shook off the feeling. He wasn’t ready for kids yet. First, he needed the girl. And that started with a date.
Devin stood over by the door, grinning from ear to ear. He followed her line of sight, and all his breath whooshed out of him. He rubbed his chest as his brain struggled to catch up with his eyes. What was Liam doing here?
His brother strode in, first hugging his mom, then offering hugs and high fives to half the room. When he finally reached Devin, Liam caught her up around the waist and spun her around once before setting her down.
Everything inside Logan nearly erupted, and Santa had to bite back a few less-than-jolly words. Then his stupid, adventurous, too-charming brother grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her. Not on the lips, but first one cheek then the next. Very European of him. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep the Santa facade up and not march straight across the room. Because ho ho holy cow, he wanted to murder his brother.
No. No, he didn’t. He loved Liam. He. Loved. Liam. He needed to remember that. And yeah, maybe Devin didn’t actually belong to him in any sense of the word, but things had happened between them last night. Things that meant something. Things that Liam couldn’t possibly come between, right?
“Hey, Santa. It’s my turn.” The last kid, a grumpy boy with blond hair, crossed his arms with a pout. Logan motioned him forward, but his gaze kept darting to Liam and Devin. But wait. Where had they gone? Where they had been standing, his mom was now boxing up the leftover cookies.
“Are you going to get it for me or not?” The kid snapped his beard.
“I’ll see what the elves can do.” It had been his standard line all night. He offered the best jolly wave he could handle, then hurried back to the dressing room, tugging at the oversized suit as he went. Now the zipper was stuck.
By the time he got all the pieces off and back out to the main room, his hair was a sweaty mess and most of the kids were gone. He scanned the room for Devin but still came up empty.
Fallon stood by the register, still dressed as Mrs. Claus. “Well, that’s strange.”
“What’s that?” His mom stepped toward her, a box of cookies in her hand.
“The baby Jesus is missing from the Nativity. I’ll have to order a replacement.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” His mom hoisted up the box a little higher when she spotted him. “Can you run these to the car? Also, your dad left early, so can you give me a lift home?”
He took the cookies from her. “I have Devin with me, and I think she has stuff at our house. Maybe—”
Liam walked up. “You take Mom. I’ll bring Devin.” He dropped an arm around Logan’s shoulder. “Good to see you, bro. You look surprised. I texted you a couple hours ago.”
“My phone is home charging.” Logan smiled back, but it was halfhearted. Not that he wasn’t glad to see Liam, but if his brother thought Logan was letting him leave here with Devin, he had another thing coming. “Why don’t you take Mom, since I already told Devin—”
“Why don’t we let her decide.” Liam turned them so they were facing a wide-eyed Devin. “Are you good riding with me?”
Devin swallowed as her eyes bounced from Logan to Liam and back. “Whatever is easiest.”
Liam patted Logan on the chest. “And Mom is ready to go now, and you look ready, so there we have it.”
Logan looked at Devin and then at the cookies in his hands. “Okay, then, see you at the house.”
“We’ll be right behind you.” She blinked at him as if wanting to say more, but when she didn’t add anything, he turned toward the car. A rock settled in his stomach. Liam had texted him. Had he texted Devin too? Could that be why she was acting so weird on the way here?
