Page 6 of Mistletoe Misses
“No.” As much as my sanity needs me to, I can’t take my eyes off her. I watch her delicate fingers tune the guitar and reach for the mic. She smiles at the expectant crowd before her angelic voice sounds through the speakers. Iron fists grip my lungs as the lights seems to brighten their focus on her, captivating and enraging me at the same time.
What is she doing in Moyer’s Ridge? Shouldn’t she be living it up in California? Wasn’t that the sole reason she left? Why bother with this small-town gig on the wrong side of the country? She hated it here, even going as far as graduating early to escape it sooner.
She sings an upbeat country song to engage the crowd, and I recognize it as one of hers. Once upon a time, I had been her preferred song tester as she worked through lyrics. This one, she wrote when we were sixteen. A familiar ache covers my entire body, and I spin back toward the bar, chugging the beer I’d yet to touch. Drew replaces it with a fresh one before I can slam the empty bottle down on the counter.
Her loyal audience cheers like they know the song—a song I thought hadn’t been recorded for the world to hear. How is that possible? After a short pause, she starts another, and the roargrows louder by the first word. I recognized the song within the first three notes. It’s our song. Our. Fucking. Song. She’s singing it to all these strangers as if she didn’t write it for a special reason or person. Like it’s just part of the show and meaningless.
Shooting off the stool, I slam a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and stalk out the door. The cool breeze slaps my heated skin along my retreat through the parking lot. I don’t stop when I hear Drew calling for me. I can’t. I need space to breathe, to remember the relaxing techniques that used to help my raging blood pressure, and to forget the love of my life didn’t just break me all over again.
Chapter 2
Maddox
The antique iron bell, original to Nana’s bookstore, clangs to life above the century-old, wooden door as I step inside. I brace for impact—an ear-splitting squeal when she sees me and her body slamming against mine in an overdue hug.
Nothing happens, and I can’t stop disappointment from taking over.
The cash register, sitting unattended on the counter, has my law enforcement instincts stabbing at the backs of my eyes. Nothing in this place is secure. No cameras, no locks on cabinets, no staff. I walk past a row of bookshelves, my boots pounding on the wooden floors and echoing through the aisles.
Still no Nana.
As I make my way to the back, a cracked door and light coming from inside catch my attention, and I listen for voices and clues. Anyone could walk in here undetected as I did—an easy opportunity to take advantage of or hurt my sweet Nana.
“No, he didn’t,” a female voice says. “He sent a text.”
“I swear. Young people these days.” My muscles relax at the sound of Nana’s steady voice. She’s not being robbed or held hostage at least.
“I should get going. Thank you, Lily. I always enjoy our teatime.”
“Me, too, dear. See you next week.”
Next comes rustling noises, like they’re rising out of their seats. Excited to surprise her, I push open the door and lean on the doorframe, shoving my hands into my jean pockets.
Nana’s gray-blue eyes widen with wonder and glisten as a hand cups her mouth. Her long hair has a smattering of gray, especially at the edges, and it’s tied up into her usual soft bun. She’s thin under her faded Christmas sweater and matching slacks, but healthy, and I’m overwhelmed by her presence.
“Maddy?”
This nickname hits me differently and square in the gut. She’s the only one who calls me that, and it reminds me of some of my favorite childhood memories with her—baking or reading by her side, playing games in the backyard, holiday dinners, sleepovers, and everything in between. I didn’t realize I had a gaping hole in my chest from missing her until her hug filled it.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Her fingers grip my shoulders as if she’s making sure I’m real. “Why?”
“That’s a story for another time.”
“And my cue,” the other woman says. Stepping closer, she stops beside me and smiles. Before I can figure out her motive for the pause, she rises to her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Welcome home, Maddox.”
I couldn’t have expected this stranger to kiss me, and my defensive reflexes are slow to react.
She hurries through the shop, and I wait for the bell to ring, indicating Nana and I are alone. “Who was that and why did she—” I’m too taken aback to finish the question.
Nana smirks as she points up.
The F-word forms on my tongue at yet another mistletoe sighting, but I think better of it given my current company. Ican’t possibly detest the plant any more than I do right now. Reaching up, I snatch it and the makeshift hook along with it. Good. Maybe Nana won’t try to rehang it.
“That was Harper, the mayor’s granddaughter.” She waves me toward the two stools behind the counter, and winks over her shoulder. “She’s single.”
“And this concerns me in what way?” I know exactly what she’s getting at, and I’m the furthest from interested as I can get.
“Just sayin’.”
