Mistletoe Baby (Crescent Cove 9.50)

“So far, I’ve only been here. That’s hardly searching to the ends of the earth.”

“We get a lot of tourists for the winter festival.”

“And she happened to have bought a scarf from you just before she met me?”

“Met you with her lips, you mean, since you haven’t even said her name.”

I had no answer for that.

“It’s Christmas,” I finally implored as her daughter released another cry from her white carriage a few feet away. Her mother’s attention was obviously split, so I’d take advantage of any moment of weakness I could. She might not know I wasn’t a serial killer but I did. “You have a baby and a husband. Or wife,” I amended when she glanced back at me. “Surely you believe in romance.”

“Making out under mistletoe is not necessarily romance, but okay, fine. How about this? I’ll meet you halfway.”

I waited.

“I’ll contact her and let her know you’re looking for her. If you leave your information with me, I’ll pass it along if she’s interested.”

I frowned. “That’s smart and very kind of you. Thank you for being so protective of your customers.”

It was her turn to blink. “Are you warming up for her? I have to admit that’s a good line.”

I laughed as I scrawled my cell number on her mailing list signup pad and pushed it toward her. “Tell her my name is Callum. MacGregor,” I added after a second. “I’m twenty-nine, single, and oh, I love vanilla ice cream. I’m staying in town a bit longer.”

Mostly due to her, since my car would be ready in not too long. But I couldn’t just walk—drive—away without making a real effort to find this woman.

Why? Because she has soft lips? Because she can kiss? Because her moan made you want to hear it when she was naked and on top of you?

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very thankful for my long coat. I hadn’t expected to develop a semi in the middle of Kinleigh’s vintage clothes and home goods shop, but Crescent Cove was turning out to be an experience in a number of ways.

“Maybe you should stop before the ice cream part,” Kinleigh suggested, jotting down what I’d said just the same.

“She’ll know what it means.” Maybe, if I’d pegged her taste correctly.

“If you say so. Now if you’ll excuse me…” She trailed off. “Luna, c’mere a sec.”

A bouncy blond emerged from the back, jingling from her impressive collection of earrings and bracelets. “Sure thing, boss. What’s up?”

Kinleigh unbuttoning her blouse was my cue to split. “Thanks again,” I said before heading out. “Tell her to call day or night,” I added just before I closed the door behind me.

Way to sound desperate.

I glanced up and down the block. I wasn’t even certain I could recognize her in the daylight. Her hair had seemed pinkish in the dark. But I didn’t know if it was straight or curly, since she’d had it in braids.

Hell, for all I knew, she’d run because she was dating someone. Or engaged. Or married. Maybe she’d done both of us a favor, and I’d just have to chalk it up to a good moment not meant to be repeated.

A great moment.

Feeling moronic, I wrapped the red scarf I still carried around my neck. Then I lifted the fringes to my nose and took a long sniff. Not even the faintest scent of vanilla. Nothing but cold, crisp air singeing off my nose hairs.

I didn’t have a clue how to spend the day. My Christmas shopping for my family and Bryce and a few other friends had all been done before November 1st. I wasn’t one for putting things off. But my mom might enjoy a trinket I found in one of the shops here.

Just give her the scarf. Pretty sure it’s cashmere.

Nah, I’d just bide my time there.

I wandered in and out of a few shops. I found a kitten sun-catcher in one of them with a lake motif that I thought my mom might like in the dead of winter. A cat steering a boat was kind of weird, but she had a wacky enough sense of humor to appreciate it.

Then I took a walk near the water. Last night, I’d gotten a few clothes at a funky store called Vintage December so that I wouldn’t have to wear the same outfit today and possibly tomorrow. Most of them were back at my room, but my messenger bag was still bulging from the sweater I’d brought with me for the day. The button-down was soft and a hell of a lot nicer than most of the things in my closet. I’d dropped a few hundred dollars in that shop since I hadn’t exactly been prepared for an impromptu vacation in a lakeside town that had to be at least ten degrees colder than Syracuse.