Marriage Under the Mistletoe. Helen Lacey

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СКАЧАТЬ had no place in his life. He had his job—a job he had to prove to himself that he could do without distraction.

      He put the earbuds in place and turned up the volume on the iPod. Stretching his travel-weary muscles for a few minutes, he then went for a long run and decided not to think about Evie’s great legs, or lovely hips or bright green eyes. He would just have to forget all about her.

      * * *

      The Manning sisters had been coming to Dunn Inn for nine years. Both in their seventies, both widows who’d married twin brothers, they shared a profound camaraderie that Evie knew she’d have with her own sisters throughout the years. Her sisters were her best friends, her confidantes, her conscience, her troubleshooters. She wondered what they would think of her new houseguest—or the semierotic dream she’d had about him the night before.

      Evie listened to Flora Manning explain her newest recipe for double chocolate fudge brownies while she served them breakfast in the main dining room. Sticklers for tradition, the sisters preferred to have all their meals in the bigger room, and forgo Evie’s usual and more casual approach of breakfast in the kitchen. Most of her guests favored that particular meal at the long wooden table where they could chat among themselves and with Evie.

      But the Manning sisters liked the good china and the pressed tablecloths and the fresh flowers Evie always maintained in the formal dining area. And because her next guests weren’t arriving until that afternoon, Evie gave Flora and Amelia a little extra attention.

      “Did we see you talking with a man outside?” Amelia asked as she sipped her tea.

      Evie looked up from her spot at the buffet table. There was clearly nothing wrong with the Manning sisters’ eyesight despite their recent protestations about their failing senses. “He’s here for my brother’s wedding.”

      “Ah,” Flora said, nodding to her sister. “Told you so.”

      “Mmm,” she replied, and placed a rack of toast and petite pots of marmalade on a serving plate.

      “He’s a nice-looking young man,” Amelia said.

      Definitely nothing wrong with their eyesight. “I guess he is.”

      “And he’s staying until after the wedding?” Amelia asked.

      Evie nodded. “Up until New Year’s, I believe.”

      The sisters shared another look. “Is he a relative of yours?”

      “No,” she replied. “He’s Callie’s brother. As you know, Callie’s engaged to my brother.”

      Two sets of silver eyebrows rose. “Is he married?”

      “No.”

      Another look—this one a little triumphant. “Straight?” Flora, the more to-the-point sister, asked.

      Evie smiled to herself. “Yes.”

      “You should find yourself a man.” Flora again, never one to hold back, spoke as she smoothed out her perfectly groomed chignon. “Your son needs a father.”

      Heat prickled up her spine. “He has a father.”

      Flora tutted. “A ghost,” she said. “The same ghost you cling to.”

      Evie’s hands stilled. “Not a ghost,” she said, probably a little sharper than she would have liked. But she knew the sisters’ cared about her. Telling it how they saw it was simply their way. “Just memories of a good man.”

      “Just promise you’ll think about it,” Amelia said with a soft smile. “Now, when are you going to finish decorating the house?”

      Good question. With Christmas only weeks away Evie usually had all the trimmings up. Granted, the beautiful cypress tree stood center stage in the living room and looked remarkable with its jewel-colored decorations and lights. Noah usually helped her with the rest of the garlands and tinsel she always scattered around the big house. But this year was different. He and Callie had their own home to decorate, and Evie hadn’t wanted to bother her brother simply because she wasn’t tall enough to finish decking the halls.

      “I’ll get to it as soon as I can,” she promised, thinking the ladder in the shed out back would do the trick.

      She returned to the main kitchen and left the sisters with their breakfast. She was just stacking the dishwasher when the door connecting the guest quarters and the stairwell leading to her private residence opened. Her sleepy-looking son emerged.

      “Good morning,” she greeted.

      “We’re out of milk upstairs,” he muttered, eyes half-closed.

      Evie opened the refrigerator and took out a plastic carton of milk for her cereal-addicted son. “Try and make it last past this afternoon,” she teased.

      “Sure,” he said. “Hey, can I have twenty bucks? There’s a computer gaming party at Cody’s tomorrow night and we all want to pitch in for snacks.”

      Evie raised one brow. “What happened to your allowance this week?”

      He shrugged. “I could say the dog ate it.”

      “We don’t have a dog.”

      “But we should get one,” Trevor said, swiftly employing his usual diversion tactics as he draped one arm across her shoulders and grinned. “It could be a guard dog. Especially for those times when I’m not here and you’re all alone.”

      “I’m rarely alone,” Evie said. “We have a seventy-five-percent occupancy rate, remember?”

      “I remember. So, about that twenty bucks?”

      “If you help me put up the rest of the Christmas decorations tonight, I’ll consider it.”

      Trevor rolled his eyes. “Well, I have to—”

      “No help, no snack money.”

      Her son’s dark hair flopped across his forehead. “Okay,” he agreed begrudgingly. “But I’m not wearing a Santa hat while I do it like you made me last year.”

      “Spoilsport.” She checked her watch. “You better go upstairs and finish breakfast. Cody’s mother will be here soon to drive you to school.” She took a few strides toward him and gave his cheek a swift kiss. “And don’t forget the milk.”

      As one young male raced out of the room, another walked right on in through the back door. Only this young man set her pulse soaring. It should be illegal for any man to have arms like that. The pale blue T-shirt did little to disguise the solid muscle definition. She spotted a Celtic braid tattoo banding his right biceps. Oh, sweet heaven.

      Scott smiled when he saw where he’d ended up. “I think I took the wrong door.”

      Evie managed not to look him over as if he were a very tasty hot lunch. He looked as though he’d been running hard. His hair, a kind of dark hazelnut color, stuck to his forehead in parts while sweat trickled down his collarbone.

      “You should СКАЧАТЬ