Mistletoe Mommy Read online

  About a year later, Maggie had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, still at an early stage. The medical crisis had shaken Fred enough that he’d started courting her again. Josh had what all children-of-divorce secretly dreamed of—his parents back together, his family a healed whole.

  With Brenna as the fly in the ointment. Awkward.

  Ancient history, she told herself. She’d risen above her unorthodox upbringing, loved the entire Pierce family; she was a productive member of society. Whose previous boyfriend dumped you because you relate better to animals than people.

  Funny, he hadn’t seemed to mind that about her when he’d hired her; her last serious boyfriend was also the town veterinarian. She’d enjoyed working in the clinic, but had always known that she wouldn’t be working as his receptionist/critter referee forever. Their breakup nearly two years ago had helped motivate her to get her small business off the ground.

  Adam parked the car, and Brenna snapped her cell phone closed. Now that she’d taken care of Patch, nothing else in her evening was time-sensitive. No doubt she’d see at least a dozen people she knew inside. She’d try to reach Josh, but if he wasn’t home, either, she was sure she could get a lift from someone. Maybe even someone who owned a pet and would be amenable to trading a favor in exchange for future discounts.

  Geoff didn’t wait for his dad to remove the keys from the ignition before bounding out of the vehicle. His sister, the moody one, took her time.

  “This is the home of phenomenal food?” she asked skeptically. “Doesn’t look like much.”

  Brenna slanted a reproving glance over her shoulder. “Friendly word of warning—don’t diss the Diner within earshot of any Mistletoe natives. They’ll run you out of town.”

  The girl pursed her lips as if she wasn’t entirely certain Brenna was kidding—which she only half was. Folks around these parts took the Diner pretty seriously. The mayor’s son proposed to his fiancée here over a shared dessert of gooey, sweet pecan pie.

  “I’m not that hungry,” Eliza finally said.

  Brenna rolled her eyes inwardly; she was tempted to call the sky blue just to see what color the contrary girl would argue it was. “You may not be hungry yet, but you will be.” No one, not even a rebellious preteen in the throes of a snit, could resist the smells inside.

  As they strolled up the sidewalk, Brenna enumerated the local favorites on the dinner menu. After the past forty minutes of detailing great food and Mistletoe summer activities, she felt as if Belle Fulton from the Chamber of Commerce might pop up any moment to offer her a job. And Brenna was uniquely qualified to tell the Varners about the Chattavista Lodge on the outskirts of town, where they’d be staying, because her stepbrother worked there.

  Josh had always been a big fan of the outdoors. In the year between her mom’s defection and Maggie’s illness, Brenna had lied shamelessly to Josh and Fred about her supposed love for fishing and camping, desperate to fit into the testosterone-driven household. She’d wanted to be the Perfect Daughter. Eliza’s polar opposite. If Fred had told Brenna the sky was taupe with chartreuse polka dots, she would have agreed just to ingratiate herself with the Pierces.

  These days, Brenna could appreciate the fresh air her occupation provided, but she hadn’t voluntarily slept on the ground in decades. Josh had been seeing the same girl for two months, and Brenna teased him that if he wanted to keep her, he’d make sure any romantic getaways included indoor plumbing. Not that Brenna had teased him recently—she was currently dodging him. Now that Josh was happily in love, a newfound convert to committed relationships, he seemed gung-ho on setting up Brenna with every eligible bachelor between here and Atlanta. His girlfriend, Natalie Young, was just as bad. Of course, she was also the local florist, so she considered flourishing romances good for business.

  The Diner hostess warned that there would be a short wait while someone cleaned off a table. Brenna tried reaching her stepbrother but got his voice mail, then started to call Arianne Waide but realized that, with her sister-in-law, Rachel, having a baby, Ari was probably at the hospital with the rest of the family. Brenna dialed Quinn again and left a message for her to call whenever she could. If nothing else, some local firemen she knew had just walked in and Brenna could bum a ride from them.

  Considering the crowd, they were seated pretty quickly. Dinner rush at the Diner started a few minutes before five and lasted well into the night. The hostess showed them to a booth, and Morgan slid in first, followed by her father. Geoff sat opposite them and Brenna chose to sit next to the boy rather than his thoroughly attractive dad. Eliza surprised her by practically leaping in after her, sandwiching Brenna. She didn’t get a strong sense that Eliza liked her, but the girl must really dislike the idea of sitting with Adam.

  Had he actually done something to bring on her wrath, or was Eliza just one of those clichéd mutinous adolescents?

  Fifteen minutes later, after the waitress delivered a round of lemonades and took their orders, Brenna thought she was getting a clearer picture of why the girl was so hostile. When Adam tried to draw Eliza into a discussion by asking if she would play soccer again this coming fall, the girl snorted. Brenna wondered if anyone had ever pointed out how unattractive that particular habit was.

  “I haven’t played soccer in two years,” Eliza said, her tone reading duh but her expression telegraphing genuine hurt. “I play volleyball now. Mom said only two activities so that my grades don’t slip, and I picked volleyball and dance.”

  Adam visibly cringed. “Right. I’m sorry I forgot that.”

  Seated on the girl’s left, Brenna barely caught her muttered, “Like you even knew in the first place.” Adam engaged his son in less-charged conversation about what kind of car he wanted to save up for, but then made an apparent misstep when Geoff mentioned that he couldn’t wait to take his girlfriend out on an honest-to-goodness car date.

  Managing not to look too nervous about that prospect, Adam asked, “So how did you and Deana meet?”

  Geoff shook his head, sighing loudly, and Brenna assumed that the boy was embarrassed to have his love life be the topic of dinner conversation. But Morgan tugged on the side of Adam’s shirt.

  “Daddy, it’s Gina,” she said, her little face pinched with worry. As if she feared his mistake might create even more tension. “Remember?”

  Though the situations probably had nothing in common, something in the girl’s voice made Brenna flash to her own past, the careful way she’d had to treat her mother. How she’d hesitantly vacillated between reminding her mom that no, they were no longer in Lexington, they’d moved on to Tennessee, and not wanting to say anything that might set her off. As an adult looking back, Brenna suspected her mother had suffered from some sort of bipolar disorder and hoped that, wherever the woman was now, she’d sought help. But as a child, Brenna had never known what to think about her mother’s moods and their nomadic lifestyle. Brenna had spent more than a decade walking on eggshells—the unpleasant habit had stayed with her far longer than her mother had.

  Morgan, on the other hand, showed few signs of emotional scarring and had already bounced back from her moment of concern. She was chanting, “Geoff and Gina. Gina and Geoff. They both start with Gs that think they’re Js. I can spell my name! Who wants to hear?”

  By the time their food arrived, Morgan had spelled out her siblings’ names, as well as her own and the words cat, fox and Dan.

  “Wonderful job,” Brenna praised her.

  “I start kindergarten next year,” Morgan said. “And Liza’s teaching me to read.”

  Eliza ducked her head closer to her plate of cheddar garlic mashed potatoes as if embarrassed to be caught doing something nice for her kid sister.

  “Kindergarten?” Brenna echoed. “That must make you, what, eleven years old?”

  Morgan giggled. “Four! But I’m almost five.”

  Adam ruffled her hair fondly, looking more relaxed than he had since he’d first pulled over for Brenna. She imagined that
sitting in front of a plate of pot roast beat the heck out of interminable hours cooped up in a car with antsy kids. “That’s right,” he said. “We’ll have to search Mistletoe for the perfect way to celebrate your birthday next Thursday.”

  Eliza’s fork hit the edge of her plate with a clatter. “Friday! Her birthday is Friday. Don’t you even know that?”

  Adam flushed darkly. “I know exactly when each one of you was born. Morgan’s birthday is June twenty-sixth.”

  “That’s Friday,” Eliza said, less forcefully.

  “Oh.” Her father leaned back against the vinyl bench. “I was just confused about my days.”

  His oldest daughter nodded, while his younger daughter looked on apprehensively. Geoff continued to shovel in food at warp speed, sparing absolutely no attention for the people around him.

  “I promise,” Adam added. “I know every one of your birthdays. June twenty-sixth. February tenth. November third. You’re the most important people in my life.”

  Brenna was moved by the declaration but also vaguely uncomfortable at being present for it. She was barely at ease with open sentiment in her own family, much less a stranger’s. She focused on her fried-chicken salad with all the intensity of a grad student taking a final, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adam reach across the table for Eliza’s hand. And saw the girl reflexively jerk away.

  Ouch.

  Eliza shoved her plate to the side. She waited a beat before asking, “Can I go play air hockey? Geoff can go with me.”

  The boy had emptied his plate, stopping just short of licking it clean.

  Reluctantly Adam nodded. “I guess. You need quarters?”

  “No. Mom gave me money.”

  There was some shuffling as Brenna stood so that the two adolescents could get out of the booth.

  “Can I go, too?” Morgan implored. “I wanna watch.”

  “Don’t you want to finish your cheeseburger?” Adam asked.

  “Nuh-uh. My tummy feels funny.”

  “All right. But I’ll save it for later in case you change your mind.” His expression was nakedly poignant as he watched his children walk away. Whatever his shortcomings, he adored those three. Brenna hoped for his sake that he found a way to convince them of that in the next few weeks.

  With a sigh, Adam looked at Brenna. “You must think I’m the worst parent in the world.”

  “Far from it. Trust me.”

  “I do surgeries where another person’s life is literally in my hands, and it doesn’t make me half as nervous as a two-minute conversation with my daughter.”

  “I don’t know.” She feigned confusion. “Morgan didn’t seem that scary to me.”

  His laugh was deep and appealing, and his dark eyes crinkled attractively at the corners. “Believe it or not, I—”

  “Brenna!”

  She turned her head, knowing her transportation dilemma had just been solved. “Josh. Hey.”

  Her stepbrother dropped his arm from Natalie’s shoulders long enough to extend a hand across the table toward Adam. “I’m Brenna’s brother, Josh Pierce.”

  “Dr. Adam Varner.”

  The two men shook, then Josh took a step back to continue the introductions, gesturing toward the very pretty blonde at his side.

  “This is Natalie Young, my girlfriend,” Josh said. He looked from Brenna to Adam, then back again, grinning from ear to ear. “And we are so glad to meet you.”

  Chapter Four

  Brenna almost groaned at the naked joy in her stepbrother’s expression. No, she wanted to tell him. Josh had made no secret of the fact that he wanted Brenna to date more, but Adam Varner was not an option. This was a critical time for her small company, her first potential “growth spurt,” a chance to turn a profit, instead of living bill to bill each month. Brenna needed to work hard this summer, not get distracted by a man—no matter how good looking he was, or how endearing his efforts with his kids. Besides, Adam had his own summer plans and would be gone in a few weeks.

  “Dr. Varner here is just passing through Mistletoe,” she said quickly. “He gave me a lift when my car died. Would you and Natalie mind taking me home?”

  “Of course not,” Josh said absently. His bright smile had dimmed to a frown. At first Brenna thought he was upset about the car situation—he and Fred had both nagged her to let Fred cosign on a car loan. It’s no more than he would do for me, Josh had said.

  Brenna had barely stopped herself from insisting that the situation was different. Instead, she’d simply told him, “I want to be self-sufficient. Need to be.” When you grew up subject to the whims of an unstable parent, you found that as an adult, you liked to be in control. Reliant on no one.

  “So, Dr. Varner, you’re an out-of-towner?” Josh asked. His tone had subtly shifted from Welcome to the family to You’d better not have any outstanding warrants for your arrest. “How convenient that you just happened to be driving by in time to pick up a lone woman in distress.”

  Adam looked unsure how to answer. “We were glad to be able to help.”

  “We?” Josh echoed, his gaze darting to Brenna. “Just how many strangers were in the car?”

  She sighed. “Four, three of them not even old enough to drive. Stop looking at Dr. Varner as if he’s suspect. And stop being so overprotective! I’m the older sibling, remember?”

  “As bossy as you are,” he said lightly, “how could I forget?”

  Natalie politely smothered her laugh.

  Adam scooted over on the bench. “Would you two like to sit down? We probably won’t see my kids again until they run out of quarters.”

  “Thank you.” Natalie sat next to him, and Josh took a seat on Brenna’s side.

  The waitress reappeared, clearing plates and promising a box for Morgan’s cheeseburger. When she asked if Josh and Natalie needed time to decide on their orders, Josh laughed. He had the menu memorized and had probably known what he wanted even before he parked his truck out front. He asked for the barbecue plate, and after a moment’s consideration, Natalie ordered a half-size fried-chicken salad.

  “So, Dr. Varner…” Natalie began.

  “Please, call me Adam. ‘Doctor’ seems too formal for vacation. And I desperately need a vacation,” he added with a rueful grin.

  Considering his traveling companions, Brenna doubted he’d get any real rest or relaxation.

  The blonde returned his smile, her interrogation techniques a lot more amiable than Josh’s. “What brings you to Mistletoe?”

  “Three weeks of bonding with my kids. I have two girls and a teenage son. We’re looking forward to hiking, exploring the town. We’ll be staying at the Chattavista.”

  “What a coincidence!” Natalie said. “Josh works for the lodge.”

  It wasn’t that big a coincidence—there were only two real places for tourists to stay around here. The Mistletoe Inn located downtown, as it were, and the more rustic Chattavista Lodge outside the town proper. Nestled among hills dotted with Georgia wildflowers, the lodge was in perfect proximity to a river that offered fishing, tubing and rafting. People made the most of outdoor sports in the spring, summer and brilliantly colored fall. During the colder months of the year, when holiday visitors were more likely to stay at the inn, the lodge offered discount space for corporate retreats, attracting businesspeople from Atlanta and surrounding states.

  “I take groups out on the river,” Josh said. “Well, and answer the phone and other stuff. But white-water rafting is a much more exciting job description.”

  Brenna smiled in his direction, feeling a big-sister rush of pride. And also feeling suddenly, inexplicably old. The quiet, shaggy-haired boy who’d seemed unsure how to react when his father married Brenna’s mother was now a broad-shouldered, confident man. Despite his joking about “playing outdoors” for a living, she knew how committed he was to doing a good job. “Josh is a trained guide, a CPR instructor and a certified Wilderness First Responder.”

  Josh flashed a grin across the t
able at Natalie. “Brenna’s just trying to make me sound good for you. Is it working?”

  His girlfriend chuckled, but before she could reply, the waitress returned with their food.

  Josh offered his heartfelt thanks, then stole a glance at Brenna. There was a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Now, if I wanted to repay the favor and make Brenna sound good for anyone’s benefit, I might mention how she kept making the dean’s list and got her MBA.”

  Apparently he’d weighed the potential risks of Adam’s being a total stranger against the likelihood of Brenna finding another boyfriend soon and had come down in favor of the good doctor.

  Well, can’t fault his taste, anyway.

  “You have an MBA?” Adam asked, looking at Brenna in surprise.

  Some people found it perplexing that she’d busted her butt for six years in higher education and now walked dogs. “I interned at a corporation after I got my bachelor’s, then tried jobs at two other places once I completed my MBA. After three false starts, I realized that cubicles and Monday-morning meetings just aren’t for me. I lack the corporate group-think mentality.” More alarmingly, she’d felt restless, edgy. For the first time in her life, she’d worried about turning into her mother, so she’d abruptly quit and come “home” to Mistletoe, wanting to feel grounded.

  And it had worked. Creating her own business from the ground up was challenging but immensely satisfying; she was carving out her own unique place among family and friends. “My MBA isn’t being wasted, though. I am my own marketing staff, HR and accounting department.”

  “Lot of responsibility,” Adam said.

  “It’s not exactly on a par with heart surgery,” she said with a wry smile, “but I am very aware that people are trusting me with keys to their homes and members of their family.” Furry, four-legged members, but still.