Kissing Under the Mistletoe

Trying to change the subject to something lighter, she said, "I hope you’ll be able to come to our grand opening next month. Especially since we’re having an absolutely beautiful summer here. You both should try to come out for a visit."

"Perhaps we could rearrange our schedules, although we wouldn’t want to get in your way," her father said. "Is the house next door still a vacation rental?"

"Not anymore," she said, unable to keep the smile off her face. "The Sullivans bought it back just this week."

"The Sullivans have moved next door again?"

In the middle of carefully popping the lightly chilled truffles from her refrigerator out of the molds and onto the counter, Brooke didn’t catch the edge to her mother’s question. "Well, Rafe is the one who bought the house, but since his sister and one of his brothers have already come up to visit this week, I’m sure the whole family will be using it quite a bit. They’re all still very close."

"He must be married by now, surely?"

She frowned at the tone of her mother’s question. "Rafe is only in his early thirties. He’s not married. But he does own a very successful private investigation agency in Seattle."

"You sound like you know an awful lot about him after all these years, Brooke."

Though they couldn’t see her over the phone, she lifted her chin in defiance. "We’ve spent quite a bit of time together since he bought the house. In fact," she added, in direct opposition to the voices in her head telling her not to, "he’s been staying with me for the past week."

She could only imagine the coronaries they’d have if she added, in my bed. Her parents likely thought—or hoped, anyway—that she was still a virgin.

"Don’t you have the common sense to know it isn’t safe to let a man you barely know spend the night in your home? Haven’t you learned anything at all since you snuck out of the house at sixteen, drank too much, and got into that car with a boy who’d also been drinking?"

"I made one mistake ten years ago. One! But you keep bringing it up as if I’ve repeated it over and over every day since then." Hurt radiated from every word she spoke. "Why can’t you trust me, and believe that I know what I’m doing, just once?"

"Why can’t you be smart enough to say no when one of those wild Sullivans tells you he wants to spend the night in your home?"

"Because he’s my friend." But she knew it would be dishonest to leave it at that. Her chin lifted yet another inch as she told them, "And more." Rafe Sullivan was the man she was falling head-over-heels in love with. She didn’t want to hold it in anymore. "So much more."

"Oh no," her mother said in obvious horror. "This was always what we were so worried would happen. We begged your grandparents to put some distance between you and that family and were so thankful when they had to sell the house. But now, after all these years, exactly what we feared has happened."

Brooke’s hands fisted in chocolate as she stared at her phone. "How could you?" Her question was little louder than a hiss of pain. "They were like family, and you wanted to take them away from me? You were actually glad when they lost their house?"

But it was as if she hadn’t spoken as her father said, "Even as teenagers, those Sullivan boys were dangerous. We always knew one of them would take advantage of the easy pickings next door."

Easy pickings?

My God, was that what her parents really thought she was? Just some naïve girl who couldn’t think for herself? Who didn’t have the strength of will—or enough common sense—to turn away a man she didn’t want? Whom she didn’t care for with every beat of her heart, and every last part of her soul?

But she already knew the answer to that, didn’t she?

It was what her parents had always thought—that she was too fragile, too innocent, too foolish to know how to keep herself safe from harm. Only, now they’d pushed her too far.

It was one thing for them to think she wasn’t capable of making good decisions. But to say that Rafe had pulled the wool over her eyes like he was a dirty old man on the corner in a trench coat drawing her in with promises of candy?

That was what finally made her see—and speak—bright red.

"I’m the one who propositioned him." She barreled on despite her parents’ shocked gasps. "He was trying to keep his distance, but I wouldn’t let him. And being with him was the best decision I’ve ever made. Rafe Sullivan is the most wonderful man I’ve ever known. Better than any of the men you thought were so great, so safe. None of them cared about me the way he does."

Maybe he hadn’t actually said he loved her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t see how much he cared about her in every look he gave her, and feel it in every kiss, every time he was moving inside of her and making her soul take flight.

She heard Rafe’s boots on her front porch and purposely said the one thing she knew would send her parents into even more of a tizzy. "Speak of the devil," she said with particular emphasis on the word devil, "he’s just coming up the stairs now. I’ve got to go."

"Brooke—"

She didn’t just hang up on them, she actually pulled the entire phone from the wall, leaving chocolate handprints on everything she touched.

"Thank God you’re here," she said to Rafe when he stepped inside.