Beneath the Mistletoe. Susan Crosby

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      “We’ll be fine,” she assured him, her arms around her sleepy children.

      He nodded. “I put a flashlight on the nightstand in case the power goes out. If it gets too cold, you and the kids can bring blankets and pillows in here and bunk in front of the fire.”

      He had a small gas log fireplace in the master bedroom, so even if the power went out, the Carters should be okay. They had an attached bath, which would give them privacy and keep Miss Annie from having to walk too far. He had already carried blankets and a pillow into the office for Lucy.

      He waited until Lucy emerged from the face-washing and tooth-brushing line for the bathroom, letting Bobby Ray go in after her, and then he motioned toward the doorway that led to the kitchen and office. “I’ll walk with you,” he said. “Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

      “Thanks.” Slinging her big duffel bag over one shoulder, she went ahead of him, giving him an intriguing view of her tight, compact backside. He lifted his gaze to the back of her head, reprimanding himself for the thoughts running through his head—thoughts she certainly wouldn’t approve of from a total stranger upon whom she was temporarily dependent.

      The office was a small, single-windowed room stuck onto the far side of the house. It was furnished with a large desk that held a computer, printer, phone and fax machine. A copier on a stand was shoved into one corner, and a faded and rather worn green corduroy couch had been pushed against one wall. A white-cased pillow, clean sheets and two blankets waited on one end of the rather shabby green couch.

      “It’s not pretty, but it’s comfortable,” he said, motioning toward the couch. “I’ve napped on it a few times. So has Hulk, I’m afraid, but I tried to brush off all the dog hair.”

      “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She cast a wary glance at the curtainless window that rattled every time the wind blew. “Maybe you could lower those blinds for me?”

      He moved to do so. “You’re sure you’ll be okay in here?”

      She gave him a smile that was just a shade too bright. “I’ll be fine,” she said again.

      He knew she was worried about a power outage. She’d made it clear enough that she didn’t like the dark. Opening a desk drawer, he took out a small flashlight and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully.

      “You certainly seem prepared for company,” she said, motioning toward the pillow and extra blankets. “Does your family visit often?”

      “No. I inherited most of my household supplies from my great-uncle. He built this house.”

      “The great-uncle who lived alone until he died?”

      He had almost forgotten that he’d mentioned his uncle Joe to Lucy. “Yeah. He died four years ago, leaving me his house and workshop.”

      Lucy was already spreading sheets on the couch, her backside swaying with the movements. Banner stuck his hands in his pockets and half turned away, keeping his gaze focused intently on anything but her. He cleared his throat. “Let me know if you need anything during the night.”

      “Banner?” She spoke quickly as he stepped through the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. “Would you leave the door open, please?”

      He did so, saying over his shoulder, “Keep the flashlight close at hand in case you need it.”

      “I certainly will,” he heard her mutter.

      She really was nervous. He wondered if her fear of the dark had a basis in experience or if it was a quirk. Maybe she was afraid because circumstances had stranded her here in an unfamiliar place.

      All things considered, he was a bit nervous himself. It seemed odd, though, that of all the strangers camped out in his home, Lucy was the only one who reduced him to the almost inarticulate self-consciousness that had plagued him during his awkward youth.

      As Banner had promised, the couch was more comfortable than it looked. Lucy nestled into the covers, trying not to think about the storm outside. At least she couldn’t see the creepy, ice-covered branches swaying now that Banner had closed the blinds.

      He had left a dim light on in the kitchen, which provided enough illumination to make her reasonably comfortable. She wondered if he always kept that particular bulb burning at night, or if he’d left it on because she had told him the dark made her nervous.

      To reassure herself, she slid a hand under her pillow, touching the flashlight he had provided her with. He really was trying to be a good host in his own awkward way, she thought with a slight smile.

      She wondered why a young, good-looking guy like him lived alone out here in the back of nowhere. She wondered why he wasn’t joining his family for Christmas. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. And as she drifted into the first stages of sleep, she wondered if he wanted one….

      The sound of someone breathing deeply, heavily in her ear brought her eyes open in a hurry. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw a big, dark form looming over her, so close to her face she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin.

      “Oh, it’s you,” she said a moment later, not sure if she was relieved.

      Hulk laid his shaggy head on her arm. Moving clumsily, she patted him with her other hand. “I know I’m on your couch, but I’m not moving,” she said. “You’ll have to take the floor if you’re sleeping in here.”

      He sighed deeply, then removed his head from her arm, curled up on the braided rug in front of the couch and was soon snoring.

      That dog was downright spooky, Lucy thought, shaking her head as she settled into her pillow again. But then, Hulk’s owner wasn’t exactly ordinary.

      The power went out just as she closed her eyes again. There wasn’t a warning flicker this time, not even a hard gust of wind. Everything just quietly went dark. Pitch-dark.

      Lucy sat up with a gasp. She couldn’t see the doorway into the kitchen now. Without the background noises of the heater and other electric appliances, the house was completely silent. She could hear the wind and ice outside, and occasional sharp cracks that she knew were more tree branches snapping.

      She hadn’t heard the branch that had taken down the power lines.

      Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to see through the inky blackness. She was growing disoriented, unsure now exactly where the door was. The sounds from outside seemed to grow louder and eerier. Creaks and pops and groans—strange noises in a strange place.

      “Hulk?” she whispered, reaching unsteadily for the dog. Even his presence would be comforting now. But he wasn’t there. The shaggy mutt had slipped out as stealthily as he had entered earlier, leaving Lucy alone in the dark.

      Drawing a deep breath to calm herself, she remembered the flashlight under her pillow. It must have been panic that had driven it from her mind before, she thought sheepishly, making a dive for it. She felt better immediately when her fingers closed around the metal cylinder. And then she cursed beneath her breath when she fumbled to find the button that would turn it on. She should have figured out how to work it before the lights went out, she chided herself.

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