Page 7 of The Clause in Christmas
As Luke’s ancient faded-red Ford pickup rolled up the gravel lane toward the cottage, a shallow sigh escaped his lips as memories washed over him.
For as long as he could remember, Edith Hayward had been on her own. Which meant Luke’s father came by every Saturday—often dragging Luke along—to trim her rosebushes, restock her supply of firewood, and rake the leaves in the fall. Ever since his dad’s passing, Luke maintained the weekly tradition, joining Edith afterward for a slice of mulberry pie and pleasant conversation.
Even after she was gone, Luke came by every Saturday afternoon to pull a few weeds or prune the walnut tree. He couldn’t bear to see Edith’s home fall into disrepair. For the same reason, his mother, Maggie, popped by every now and then to dust the banister or fluff the pillows. In a way, it meant they didn’t have to say goodbye.
Luke pulled up behind Cassie’s Prius and shifted into park.
Now, someone new would be taking over the beloved cottage. And more than a tiny part of Luke hoped it would be Edith’s granddaughter.
His eyes drifted to the insulated thermos lying on the worn upholstery of his passenger seat, and his lips curled into a smile. Despite his busy schedule, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Cassie Hayward since the moment he’d caught her spitting coffee into her thermos. Even now, the vision of her flushed cheeks and captivating green eyes made his stomach flip-flop. A fact he found baffling. He’d seen plenty of beautiful women in his thirty-one years. Many, right here in Poppy Creek. Why this one set his pulse on overdrive, he couldn’t figure out. But lucky for him, she’d left the accessory to her crime behind, giving him an excuse to stop by.
Luke hopped out of the truck and grabbed the thermos and a welcome basket, courtesy of his mother. She’d stuffed it full of local favorites like a bottle of Jack’s BBQ sauce, a plate of her jumbo-sized cinnamon rolls, and a jar of The Buttercup Bistro’s Mother Lode Stew, which was a secret family recipe. One Luke still wasn’t privy to, even after dating the owner’s daughter.
After knocking on the front door, Luke took a step back and drew in a slow, calming breath, savoring the crisp air as it filled his lungs.
When he didn’t receive a response, he knocked again.
Still no answer.
Luke set the thermos and welcome basket on the porch, figuring the near-freezing temperature would preserve the food until Cassie came outside and found it, when a loud crash thundered from somewhere upstairs.
Prepared to whip out his backup key if necessary, Luke tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, he pushed his way inside and bounded—two steps at a time—up the staircase and into the first bedroom, planning to check each room for the source of the clamor.
A large box lay in the center of the hardwood floor, its contents strewn about in every direction. Cassie’s lower body hung from a small cutaway in the ceiling that led to the attic. Her backside faced him as she swung her long legs, attempting to reach the pull-down ladder with her foot.
As the adrenaline rushed from his body, Luke released a deep belly laugh, both from relief that she wasn’t in any real danger and amusement.
“Hello? Who’s there?” Cassie asked, still squirming.
“It’s Luke Davis. It seems like you’re in a bit of a predicament.”
“I slipped trying to carry that box down. Can you give me a hand?”
“Sure, no problem.” Luke stepped beneath her, then hesitated. How would he help her down without… well,touchingher? Telling himself not to overthink it, he wrapped his arms around her legs. “Okay, you can ease yourself down now.”
Slowly, she slid down the length of his body until they were face-to-face as he held her in his arms.
For reasons outside his control, Luke couldn’t move. It was as if his muscles had stopped working, and his arms were incapable of releasing her.
An awkward moment passed before she cleared her throat. “Uh, thanks.”
Color swept across his face as he plopped her on the ground, and he hoped his five o’clock shadow covered it. “I see you’re already undertaking day one of the Christmas Calendar.”
“Might as well get it over with.” Cassie stooped to gather the scattered decorations, tossing them back inside the box unceremoniously. Plucking a headless Santa statue from the floor, she giggled. “Yikes! It kind of looks like Armageddon at the North Pole, doesn’t it?”
Luke chuckled as he sank onto his hands and knees, searching for the rest of Saint Nick. “Morbid, but yes.” Reaching under the iron bed frame, he retrieved the missing head, noting Santa’s jolly smile took on an eerie tone when it wasn’t attached to his rotund frame. “It shouldn’t be too hard to glue back together.”
Cassie shrugged. “One less decoration to deal with doesn’t bother me.”
“I take it you’re not a fan of decorating?”
“I’m not a fan of Christmas.”
Luke cocked his head, eyeing her curiously. “What do you mean? Everyone likes Christmas.”
“I don’t,” Cassie said softly, dropping her gaze. Then, almost instantly, her expression transformed. Her full lips stretched into a broad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I guess I’m in good company with Scrooge and the Grinch.”
“You know Scrooge and the Grinch like Christmas at the end of the story, right?”
