Page 1 of Catching the Mistletoe

CHAPTER1

Arabella

Ileaned against the window in the great room at Slow River Ranch, the cold glass doing nothing to chill my restless energy. Outside, the mid-Autumn sun cast moody shadows over the front paddock, elongating the shapes of the kid’s obstacle course that was spread out across the stubbly grass.

I gazed at my reflection for a long moment. The person looking back at me seemed like a stranger, almost. She had my features, sure. The shoulder length dark hair, the pale skin, the light blue eyes. Gone was the sickly pallor, the sunken eyes, the dry lips, the limp hair. And thank fuck for that. But I’d spent more than half my life battling an illness that was meant to kill me, and now that it was over, I didn’t know myself. Nearly a year had passed since I’d woken from that coma with a new kidney and a new life. A life I still hadn’t figured out how to live.

Movement caught my eye from the edge of the paddock. My heart lurched and then beat rapidly.Mack. Ambling across the scrubby grass, with a kid on his shoulders, pulling a bay mare along behind him, another kid riding on its back. He was so fucking broody and grumpy, yet somehow the kids loved him. God knows why.

I huffed out a breath because that was mean. And very unlike me. It was just that Mack got under my skin, turned me inside out, and made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. All the while being completely indifferent to my existence.

As if I needed proof of that, Mack looked up just then, turning his head in my direction. It was like he felt me watching him. Our eyes met through the distance and the glass and even from here, I could read the blank expression on his face. See? Completely indifferent. Still, my heart stuttered at the slight interaction, that familiar heat curling low in my belly.

He turned away, continuing on to Kiddo Quarters, where all the kids stayed during youth camp. I could stand at the window and watch him go, allow my eyes to run over his broad shoulders and down his muscular back. I could check out his ass. I could admire the way his dark blond hair brushed against his collar, making my fingers tingle to touch it.

Or I could do the smart thing and turn away. I wasn’t smart. I watched him go until he was at the end of the paddock and out of sight. It was only then that I moved away from the window, flopping down on the big couch in front of the fire.

The great room at Slow River Ranch was all “hygge” vibes, with the crackling fire and the smell of cinnamon in the air from a scented candle.

My sister, Genevieve, sure had settled into her life running a youth camp for underprivileged kids, on a ranch just outside Esperance, NC. And yeah, the room had that cozy, lived in feel. Mainly because Genevieve’s stuff was scattered from one end to the other. Honestly, she was one of the most organized, capable people I knew, but holy fuck, she was messy.

Her husband, Noah, would no doubt give her shit when he came in and saw the magazines spread out on the coffee table, her coat thrown carelessly over the back of the squishy recliner, and her boots abandoned in front of the fire like a pair of tired soldiers. He’d only be joking though, because he absolutely adored her. Had declared his love for her in front of millions of viewers when they’d won the reality show they’d met on. Then he’d gone and given her all the prize money from it to pay for my kidney transplant.

I couldn’t believe that all of that had happened less than twelve months ago.

It had always been Noah and Mack’s dream to own a ranch and run youth camps on it. A dream they’d worked tirelessly for a decade to make happen. Well, happen it did. And in a big way. Turns out, Noah and Genevieve falling in love on live tv had generated a lot of public interest. That interest had turned into twenty million dollars in donations to the fundraising account Noah and Mack had set up.

Since then, they’d snagged this ranch and hustled to get everything up to code. From paperwork to paint jobs, it had been a non-stop sprint to open the youth camp. And now here we all were, living on the ranch, running the camp. Genevieve and Noah here, in the main house. Me, in a much smaller, three-bedroom cabin close to the main house. With my mom and dad, of course, because what twenty-six-year-old woman doesn’t want to still live with her parents, like a teenager?

And then there was Mack, in his own cabin, down behind the barn.

Genevieve walked in from the kitchen, her red hair framing her face like a soft halo, holding a tray with two steaming cups of tea and a plate of cookies. One look at my face had her brow furrowed in concern. “Hey. You okay?” she asked gently, her gray eyes meeting mine as she set the tray down on the coffee table. She took a seat next to me on the couch and picked up her mug of tea.

I shrugged. “Sure. I’m fine.”

She gave me a look. “Hmm. I call bullshit. What’s eating at you?”

I laughed nervously, my eyes darting toward the fireplace as if it held some escape. “You’re such a mind reader, huh? Can’t a girl just have a pensive moment?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. Instead, it seemed to dig deeper into me. “A moment, sure. But you’ve been having a lot of ‘moments’ lately, and they’re stacking up. Something’s going on. Spill.”

My eyes met hers again, and I felt that familiar connection to her, mixed with an overwhelming urge to unload. But it was hard to put into words, hard to admit it to someone else when you’re still admitting it to yourself. So I looked away, focusing on a random knick-knack on the coffee table.

“Come on, Bella. You can tell me.”

Fuck. I really needed to get it out, so I took a deep breath and dived right in. “It’s just... I don’t know, Gen.” I winced at how weak my voice sounded. So vulnerable. I hated that. “I’ve spent so long fighting, you know? Fighting to be healthy, fighting to be ‘normal.’ And now that I’m here, in this new normal, I’m kind of lost.”

I couldn’t look at her as I confessed this, but I felt her hand reach for mine, offering the silent support only she could give me. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing now, what my purpose is. Everything has changed, and I’m not sure where I fit into it all anymore.”

“You fit right in here, with all of us.”

“I know, and don’t get me wrong, running the arts and crafts activities for the camp has been amazing.” I paused, taking a sip of tea while I tried to gather my swirling thoughts. “It’s rewarding to see the kids light up when they create something. But... it’s not enough. I can’t see myself cutting paper and mixing paint forever.”

“So, what do you see yourself doing?” Genevieve asked, her eyes searching mine as if she could find the answer there.

“Fucked if I know,” I admitted, the weight of that uncertainty settling over me like a fog. It made me feel like absolute shit, and like I’d already said too much, felt too much. Literally everyone had done all they could for me, since I was diagnosed at twelve years old. Mom and Dad left their careers. My grandparents moved back from Florida to help look after me. Uncle Rhys took up a second job to help pay my medical bills. Aunt Rosie had gone part time to help with my care, too. My cousin Zane gave me his kidney, for fuck’s sake. And Genevieve. God. She’d trained as a nurse so she could look after me. Had dedicated pretty much all of her twenties to the task. Then she’d entered theChasing the Mistletoecontest for me. And here I was, bitching about being included in their dream for the ranch. Fuck, I was an asshole. I felt it enough to say, “Anyway, I’m assuming that’s not why you asked me to drop in.”

Genevieve’s gaze shifted away from mine for a moment, and I could see a hint of guilt clouding her usually clear gray eyes. “Well, actually, I did want to talk to you about something.”

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