Page 14 of Sweet Yuletide (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #4)

At the beach cottage, the scent from the pot of hot spiced apple cider lingered in the air. Sheridan had found mulling spice bags at the market, which meant no cheesecloth required. The taste was a little different from home, but Michael drank three cups, so he must have enjoyed it.

“Carol of the Bells” came from the TV set. One channel played only music for the season. He said his mom listened to it.

As Sheridan put away the now-empty boxes of decorations, she hummed along to the song.

She owed him a big thank-you. No way would skipping Christmas have been okay.

Not when she relished the sights, sounds, and smells of the holiday.

There might not be evergreen trees and snow outside the window, but the sand, grass, and the Atlantic Ocean were growing on her.

Michael placed a gold star on the top of the tree. “Is it straight?”

“Yes.” Contentment filled her. “It’s perfect.”

“You said the tree would be, and it is. I should have never doubted you.”

“You didn’t put up much of a fight.”

“No.” He stared at the beautiful tree with twinkling white lights, shiny garland, and ornaments. “And I’m glad I didn’t. This is the best tree.”

Warm and fuzzy feelings surged through Sheridan. This wasn’t the Christmas she thought she’d have, but it was the one she needed. “Thanks for suggesting we do this.”

It had been strange hanging ornaments that held no memories for either of them, but she’d enjoyed seeing all the different ones, from colored balls to beach scenes painted by Hope.

Sheridan and Michael had only disagreed on whether to add a strand of multicolor lights.

After a five-minute stalemate, Michael pulled out a coin to decide.

She’d won the toss, so they’d only put on the white bulbs—what she put on her tree.

Well, used to, but she would again next year.

Wherever that might be.

But she didn’t want to think about the future when she was enjoying the present so much.

“The white lights were the right choice.” Michael stepped away from the tree. “Now, to finish up.”

Sheridan stared at the empty boxes. “There aren’t any more decorations.”

“Not the tree.” He went to the breakfast bar and picked up the two packages of mistletoe. “We still have this.”

“Oh.” Sheridan had been trying to forget about those. Mistletoe hadn’t been a tradition in either of her parents’ houses. If her mom hung any this year, she hadn’t noticed.

“Von left instructions.” Michael moved toward the kitchen. “The nails are already there.”

“Great.” Her voice sounded flat.

Of course, it did. She didn’t want to spend two weeks maneuvering around the mistletoe. Not that Michael wanted to kiss her. He’d made it clear this was about tradition. Not only his family’s but the Ryan twins’, too.

No big deal . Some greenery with berries was meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Too bad her lips hadn’t keyed in on that point yet. All they wanted was a kiss.

Not. Going. To. Happen .

“Where do they go?” She’d meant to speak casually, but the words tumbled out of her mouth as if she were eager to find out and would loiter there.

Ugh . So not subtle, but she managed not to cringe. At least not outwardly.

“One goes in the space between the breakfast bar and the doorway.”

She glanced that direction but didn’t notice a nail. The spot, however, was prime for standing around during a party, which was probably the point. “And the other?”

“Outside on the deck.”

That surprised her. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Me, either, except people go out there during parties.” He unwrapped the mistletoe. “And I mean the lovebird couples, who need a break from the crowds to make out.”

It must be nice .

Wait . What was she thinking?

Sheridan was in no position for a relationship with her life in upheaval. She had no idea what her address would be in a few weeks. Dating wasn’t within the realm of possibility.

Too much hearth-and-home coziness doing holiday stuff with Michael was messing with her brain. She needed a distraction.

“I’ll search for the nail.” Sheridan stood between the wall and breakfast bar, but she didn’t see it. She rose on her tiptoes and felt around the area. Her finger bumped into something. “I found it.”

“Excellent. Being tall comes in handy.”

“Except for when guys call you a giant because they prefer petite women.” The words spewed out—a habit. A lifetime of being teased made her defensive.

“I meant you don’t have to worry about falling off a chair.”

“That, too.”

“But someone liking a different type doesn’t justify name-calling.”

“What’s your type?”

His face reddened. “Short with blond hair.”

Sheridan shouldn’t be surprised. Many jocks liked that type. Even if he wasn’t an athlete now, he must have been in the past. Still, disappointment shot through her. She shook it off. “People have types. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is if someone puts down another person. I wasn’t doing that.”

“I know. I’m just a bit…”

“Fragile?”

She nodded. “If my life weren’t such a mess, I doubt I’d think twice about what you said. But things set me off more easily now.”

“I get it.” Michael held up the mistletoe tied with a red satin bow. “Check this out. Look at the berries and the red ribbon. This is better than what my mom buys. There’s even a loop to hang it.”

“The nail is next to where my finger is.”

“Don’t move.”

Except the closer he came, the more the area appeared to shrink. His warmth, his scent, his presence overwhelmed Sheridan. Each one of her nerve endings stood at alert, shouting retreat . Her throat tightened, and she swallowed. “Do you want me to get out of the way?”

“Not yet.”

Figures .

The side of his arm grazed hers.

Tingles exploded at the point of contact. She needed to get away from him. “Do you see it?”

“I think so.” He bumped against her again, and her pulse kicked up a notch. “Sorry.”

“Take your time.” That way, she had a few more minutes on this planet before she keeled over dead. Something about Michael Patterson slayed her. She didn’t know if it was his friendliness or his hotness, but she would never survive being this close to him.

He raised the mistletoe, moving slowly toward the nail. “I’ve got it.”

As relief washed over her, she lowered her hand and stepped aside. Who was she kidding? She returned to stack the rest of the empty boxes. If she hadn’t moved, he might think she wanted a kiss. Okay, she wouldn’t say no because… tradition. And a kiss would be nice.

Which told her the real issue—she didn’t want to find out he didn’t want to kiss her.

Pathetic .

Was she too old to run away? She’d sort of done that coming here. But her stay was temporary.

He hung the mistletoe. “What do you think?”

She was happy the mistletoe didn’t talk because it would see right through her. “Easy enough to avoid.”

Oh, no . She slapped a hand over her mouth. Had she said that aloud?

Michael laughed. “That’s one way to look at it.”

Heat rushed up to her neck. “It’s also very Christmassy.”

“Mistletoe is, but you’re right.” His grin made him more attractive. “It’ll be easy to avoid here and on the deck.”

He spoke smoothly, but hearing the words was difficult, even though she’d said something similar.

Disappointment tangled with relief. The odd combination told her to keep her distance from Michael. Not trusting her voice, she forced herself to nod.

“Now what?” he asked.

“We have dinner and enjoy the tree.”

“What are you making?”

She removed the chicken from the fridge and took off the plastic wrapper. She would cook both breasts and save one for another day. “A salad with chicken.”

“Healthier than my ramen noodles.”

“I remember those days, which is why I no longer eat it.” However, she might have to reconsider, depending on her financial situation in a month or two.

“Easy and cheap, so it’s a mainstay on my menu. Plus, my family needs something to kid me about.”

“You provide the ammo?”

“Sometimes. Keeps things fresh that way.”

She tried to imagine what his family was like, but she couldn’t see past him. “I’ve never had to deal with that until the last few months.”

“Has it been rough?”

Sheridan nodded. “I had no idea how bad it would be. My stepmother’s kids are cruel.

I haven’t met all of them, but the youngest three are awful.

Vicious. I wasn’t in school at the same time as them, and I’m so glad.

My stepfather’s three daughters are nicer, but they still get on each other.

So far, they’ve left me out of any sibling squabbles, and I hope that continues. ”

“When my siblings come after me, I dish back without a second thought.”

“Wait.” She remembered what he’d told her earlier. “You said you were a sweetie.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “With the pretty ladies. My sisters don’t count.”

Did he consider her pretty? Sheridan’s pulse spurted, and she stood taller. Until she thought about the context, and then she realized he hadn’t meant her but ladies in general.

No biggie .

But it told her one thing. Time to call him out. “You talk tough, but I see right through your facade. Your sisters have you wrapped around their little finger as much as Monroe does.”

Michael laughed, the deep sound circling Sheridan like her favorite wool scarf. “Okay, you got me. I’m not that tough with them. Some might say I’m a wimp. But with Mason, I don’t let up and go at it with him.”

The love in his voice for his siblings intensified the loneliness in Sheridan’s heart. She had no way to change being an only child, but she would get to know Max’s daughters better if she remained in Berry Lake.

She glanced at the clock. “It’s getting late. I need to cook dinner. Do you want a chicken breast?”

Michael straightened. “Do you have extras?”

No, but she would buy more when she went to the market for the cookie ingredients. “Yes.”

“I’d love one.” He glanced at his stash of food. “If you want any ramen…”