Page 23 of Must Love Mistletoe

“I have some,” Maddie said. “I’ll bring it over. Then there can be kissing.”

“My cabin doesnotneed mistletoe,” Cal warned. “Nor does the barn. Or anywhere else. Besides, Christmas is months away.”

“If you had a wife and children, Christmas planning would already be underway. You’d be buying Christmas tree lights now, before all the good ones are gone. Ask me how I know,” Jett said.

Cal rubbed at his temple, possibly with the patience of a saint.

Maddie picked up a plate and held it out. “Have another. Everyone knows they’re your favorite.”

“Subtle,” he grumbled, but he took another cinnamon roll because he’d finished the first and it had been the best he’d ever tasted. “Beth, thank you for the baking. This is heaven.”

“Thank you. I like baking for people. It’s like woodchopping for you.” Was Bethblushing?

What was she saying?

“One of his favorite chores,” Seth said, and Beth just knew they were making fun of Cal’s willingness to shoulder the hard work others avoided. He did it for them, and for her, and for all the others he allowed into his inner circle.

“Okay, maybe my baking’s not the same as Cal picking up mundane chores for us all. His generosity means a problem’s been solved for someone, maybe before they even realize it’s a problem. Me, I just spent the morning baking so we wouldn’t go hungry.” Which wasn’t quite the truth. “But, yes. I baked Cal’s favorite’s deliberately. You’ll just have to make of that what you will.”

Cal already had three other brothers. Who needed four?

He smiled at Beth, helpless in the face of her attempts to please him.

More to the point, the uneasy guilt he’d always felt when paying any attention whatsoever to her was gone.

Almost gone.

Maybe a smidgin still left, but surely he could work on losing it completely?

Because Red was gone and wasn’t coming back, and Beth was still here. Beth, who’d cooked all his favorite sweets and was now in his home, perched on a chair and shyly glancing his way, and well, now. Well.

I’ll be damned. She’s looking at me.

Wasn’t that something.

Hope was the craziest thing.

Chapter Eight

“Got a minute?”

Cal found his mother in the basement of the house he’d grown up in. She was halfway up a step ladder, hauling boxes of Christmas decorations down from the top shelf of a cupboard.

Tonight was Halloween. They hadn’t even had Thanksgiving yet. Wasn’t it a bit early for Christmas decorations?

He came up beside her to steady the ladder, and help retrieve the last of the boxes, nonetheless. “I’m not even going to ask what you’re doing with these,” he said, with the patience of a saint, and a deliberate lack of curiosity.

Sometimes it was best not to ask why.

“I’m looking for Halloween masks for Jett and Mardie. They’re taking Claire on her first trick or treat in Marietta this evening.”

“Huh.” Well, okay.

“Are you here to talk about your next move when it comes to courting Beth Evans?”

Mothers knew. Theyalwaysknew. Denial was pointless. “Could be. Yes.”

She came down the ladder and brushed her dusty hands against each other. “What’s on your mind?”

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