Page 13 of Catching the Mistletoe

“It’s... complicated,” I began, scrambling for the right words. “But I realized it could be a good thing. For both of us.” I waited, my eyes searching hers for any flicker of emotion, any sign that she was still in this with me.

“Well, it seems like a sudden and unexpected change of heart.” Her voice was tinged with suspicion.

“Your mother came to see me.”

She pushed off the counter, putting her wineglass down with a little more force than necessary. “Fantastic. So, it wasn’t enough that I wanted to go? I can’t make a simple decision without my mother stepping in? You’re only doing this because she wants you to? Not because it’s what I want? Is that how little you think of me? What am I, five? Do I need her to cut up my food for me, too? To choose my clothes, maybe pick out a nice young man for me to marry?”

The words tumbled out of her mouth, each one laced with a venom that was directed more at herself than at me. It was edged with hurt, too, and that ate at me. There was so much going on here, more than I’d realized, and I had no fucking idea what to say to make it right.

“Clearly, I can’t make good decisions on my own. I mean, look at me. I’m a grown woman who still needs her mother to manage her life. Could I be any more of a fucking loser?” She paused, but only so she could draw in enough air to explode. “And don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m some fucking charity case.” Her eyes were blazing now, brimming with unshed tears. “Like I’m so damn pathetic that—”

“Don’t do that, little dove,” I said softly. Her pain cut at me, stabbed me in the chest.

Her eyes snapped to mine, her anger replaced by a flicker of confusion. “What did you just call me?”

I shook my head, regretting the words as soon as they left my lips. I hadn’t meant for that to slip out.

Her eyes held mine, a complex dance of confusion, hurt, and something else I couldn’t quite place swirling in their pale blue depths. Time stretched, and I braced myself for the questions I knew were coming. But instead, she shifted gears, leaving the endearment hanging in the air between us.

“I just don’t get it.” She tapped her foot. “You’ll do it if my mom asks you, but not if I ask you.”

“You never actually asked me, did you?”

She blinked at me, her eyes clouded with confusion while she processed that. Huffing out a laugh, she said, “I guess I didn’t. Okay then. Liam McKinley, will you please come on the Caravan of Christmas with me?”

“Yes.” There was no turning back now.

She eyed me warily. “I should ask a shit ton of questions about what’s going on here, but I want to do this so fucking badly that I’m going to skip all that.”

Then she took a step closer, her eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to close the gap between us completely.

“Do you think we could be friends, then?” Her voice was softer now, vulnerable.

Friends. Such a simple word for something that felt anything but. “Friends? Yeah, I think we could manage that.”

She smiled. Smiled so brightly it almost fucking blinded me. It was like she’d flipped a switch, and I was struck by the intensity of it. It was dazzling, disarming, and it tore through me, warming places I didn’t even know were cold.

We stood there, just inches apart. I could feel the warmth coming off her, could smell her perfume, a light floral scent that had always been uniquely Arabella. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to reach out and pull her closer. But I held back, reminding myself that this moment, her smile, was enough.

CHAPTER7

Arabella

The past two weeks had been nothing short of a dizzying, electrifying rollercoaster. Ever since the announcement about the Caravan of Christmas hit the media, our quiet ranch had turned into a buzzing hive of activity. It was as if a spotlight had suddenly been thrown onto us, and honestly, I was living for it.

First, there was the format of the show to deal with. We’d agreed to allocate a whole month to the trip, but it was contingent on raising the funds. So if people didn’t cough up enough in the first week to supply enough for presents for three stops, we’d be homeward bound. It was a genius way of doing it, even though I felt a bit of pressure to do my best to get the money rolling in. They did throw in a curve ball we hadn’t been expecting, though. To make it even more interesting, we weren’t allowed to know the amount we were fundraising. Which meant no outside communication. I hesitated at that, my gut clenching. Sure, Mom was getting under my skin a bit, but I couldn’t imagine going a whole month without talking to her at all. Or anyone else, either. But I looked at Mack, sitting next to me on the couch in Genevieve and Noah’s great room. “We can do it.” He said it so matter-of-factly, so confidently, which settled it for me.

The briefings were something else. A list of all the places we would potentially be visiting. What we might encounter there. How to handle it. That tore at my heart a little, making me brutally aware of exactly what was at stake here.

On top of that, because we’d be traveling in the RV, we had to pack pretty light. Which meant shopping. How terrible! Not.

The absolute highlight, though? The photoshoot. Hands down.

This wasn’t some high-fashion affair; it was down-to-earth and genuine. I was in jeans and a cozy fall sweater, the kind of clothes that said I wasn’t afraid to get my hands dirty but still wanted to look good doing it. The photographer said the camera loved me, which, you know, was a bit of a buzz.

If it loved me, it was absolutely smitten with Mack. I mean, yeah, he looked incredibly hot, just in his regular ranch gear—jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt. He hated every moment of it, of course. You could practically see him counting down the seconds till it was over, but he stuck it out. Even managed a few reluctant smiles, which said a lot. The fact that he was willing to go through all that glamor and glare for the sake of this journey made my heart swell in ways I couldn’t even begin to put into words.

And now, here we were, at the airport, bags packed and ready to go. My stomach churning with a blend of excitement and nerves, my heart thumping wildly as we made our way through the terminal.

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