Mistletoe Magic (A Holiday Romance Novel Book 2) Page 2

  As she neared her front door, she couldn’t hold back her groan.

  “What a nice greeting from my sister.” Her brother, James, stood up from lying on her stairs. “I need some cash.”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Didn’t we just have those niceties. You know, where you groaned at seeing me.” He stepped down the two stairs, getting right into her face. “Just a little cash.”

  The strong smell of alcohol made her want to gag. Great. After her horrifying embarrassment with Officer Crowl, dealing with her drunk ass brother was not on her to-do list.

  “I don’t have any money for you. Get a job.”

  “You have a job. You have money.”

  “Go home, James.” She started to go around him when he grabbed her wrist, yanking her back.

  “Give me some damn money.”

  “For what, more booze?” Glancing at his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist, she tried to pull away. “Let me go.”

  The pressure increased. “I need some rent money.”

  “I know when you’re lying. You smell like a damn brewery.” Using as much strength as she had left, she tugged harder against his restraint, simultaneously pushing at his chest. She managed to break free and rushed for her door.

  The handle twisted with ease, making her curse out loud at the fact he broke into her house. She opened the door quickly and slammed it shut just as fast, twisting the lock. The pounding started instantly.

  “Let me in, Theresa! Just give me some damn money! I need it!”

  Even though she flipped the lock, it was flimsy as hell. Holding her body against the door, she debated what to do. This wasn’t the first time James had come around asking for money. She knew it wouldn’t be the last. The first time he did it, she thought he actually needed help, giving him a little cash to tide him over. A few days later, she found out he spent it all at the bar. Giving in the first time had been her undoing. Now he thought she’d hand over money any time. No more. She worked hard for her money. He didn’t do a damn thing but get into trouble and drink.

  She had to change her locks twice already because James broke in by picking her locks, and then swiped her spare key she always thought she hid well enough. Apparently, he did it again, because she knew she locked her door this morning. She never forgot to lock her doors, especially living in the not-so-safe neighborhood. How many times would she have to change her locks? Better yet. How many times could she afford to?

  The door shook as he pounded again. “You’ll be sorry if I have to break down the door. Where’d you hide the money?”

  Tears started to well up in her eyes. Why did her brother have to turn out like their deadbeat dad? The town drunk. Like father, like son.

  She didn’t always get to the bank to deposit her tips. Sometimes, she didn’t make a whole lot to make a trip to the bank. It seemed easier to keep it at home. She liked using cash instead of her credit card. Using her credit card was just a disaster waiting to happen.

  She was going to have to start changing her routine. Heading to the bank to deposit her money before coming home. Thank goodness, she hid her money well enough so he couldn’t find it, surprisingly, since she never hid the spare key good enough. She learned her lesson on that, though. Her brother was a shifty one, and smart. She never underestimated him.

  “Theresa!”

  “Go away, James. I’m not giving you any money.” Taking a deep breath, she hesitated. She didn’t want to do it.

  The pounding increased.

  She had no choice.

  “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

  “Yeah, do that.” Pound. Pound. Pound. “I hope it’s Officer Crowl working. I’d love to tell him the pathetic way you pine over him.” Pound. Pound. Pound. “Just a little cash to tide me over.”

  His voice held a hint of remorse. Just a hint. Then the pounding increased. She was more than a little worried he’d break through the door. He had never physically grabbed her before. Would he hurt her? Well, he was drunk, fear swamped her for the first time dealing with her brother like this.

  Digging in her purse, having difficulty locating her phone, she dumped everything on the floor. Her things scattered everywhere. Her phone slid across the floor, out of reach. A deep fortifying breath escaped as she lunged forward, snatched her phone, then pressed her body back against the door.

  Please, don’t let Officer Crowl respond. Although, did it matter? It wouldn’t be the first time he responded when her brother was drunk as a skunk and spouted how much she loved him. Officer Crowl never commented on it to her brother, or even her. She just didn’t exist to him, even when it was thrown right into his face.

  She dialed nine-one-one.

  Boy, what a great start to the holiday season.

  Chapter 2

  Aiden almost jerked the wheel into the ditch when he heard the address come through the radio. Her brother. Again.

  After relaying with dispatch, he was the closest one to respond, which was fine by him. He already felt horrible with the way he spoke to Theresa earlier. An apology was due. He needed to work on his manners and not act so abrupt with everyone, especially her. She was one of the sweetest women he knew.

  Her brother was the worst kind of loser. He couldn’t stand the jerk, always bothering Theresa, getting downright nasty with her. Yeah, he was more than happy to respond. He didn’t like it when her brother gave her problems.

  Less than five minutes later, he pulled to a roaring stop in front of her house. Her brother stood on the steps, banging on the door.

  Stepping out of the vehicle, he shouted, “Brennen, step away from the door.”

  He stopped banging on the door and turned towards him, laughing like a maniac. “Oh, look, Theresa, your knight in shining armor is here. Want me to see if he likes you as much as you like him?”

  The dumbass was drunk. Great. He kind of asked for it. He wanted something to do besides thinking.

  “It’s time to leave, Brennen.”

  “That’s Mr. Brennen to you, asshole.” He spit at him.

  Luckily, his aim was off; otherwise, his anger would’ve skyrocketed. Getting spit on was the worst. Truly disgusting. The call just went from a simple trespassing to an assault against an officer. Because yeah, he was going to be a dick and lock him up for spitting at him, regardless if it hit him or not.

  “Put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for assault.”

  “I didn’t assault anyone. Get off my sister’s property.”

  “You do realize she called us. You’re also trespassing. Let’s go, Brennen. Hands behind your back.”

  Just like that, the call went from a simple assault, that he was stretching to make, to an actual assault as Brennen jumped off the stairs and took a swing. Aiden was embarrassed to admit, even to himself, the move caught him off guard. Brennen’s fist connected with his mouth. He staggered, almost pitching to the ground before he caught his footing. Then another fist came at him, but this time he managed to block the punch.

  In a normal situation, Brennen was a strong guy. But drunk as he was, his reflexes were slower, making it easy for Aiden to take him to the ground. Now, getting the handcuffs on him might take a little work because he wouldn’t stop resisting. He was debating his next move, quite tempted to throw his own sucker punch himself, because that’s what the first one delivered to him was, when Officer Stockman appeared out of nowhere.

  They had him handcuffed soon after.

  “You mind taking him in for me. I…” He let his words trail off, essentially communicating he was still sorely tempted to beat the living shit out of him for getting that punch in.

  “No problem.” Officer Stockman nodded to him. “Lip’s still bleeding.”

  “Yeah, make sure to get assault on an officer, resisting arrest, drunk and disorderly, and trespassing.”

  “You got it.” Officer Stockman dragged Brennen to his vehicle as he spouted vulgar obscenities the entire way. Aiden i
gnored every word.

  He turned toward Theresa’s house, the door still securely closed. Most people would’ve been standing outside, either shouting to add in more charges, or screaming they didn’t want him arrested. Theresa was never like most people. She never opened the door until they had her brother under control. Then she would come out and ask as nicely as possible if they would just remove him from her property. Not arrest him. It drove him nuts. She never wanted to press charges. She was just too damn nice.

  Her generous spirit was one reason he liked her. Always so friendly. Always so happy. Always so beautiful.

  Wait, what?

  Sure, she had a beautiful smile, but that’s it. Nothing more. He couldn’t afford to think of anything else about her as beautiful. While he liked how kind she could be, he didn’t like that she always let her brother get away with his behavior.

  Knocking quietly on the door, he spoke in a soft voice. “Theresa? It’s Officer Crowl. Can you open the door? He’s gone.”

  The door swung open and his heart stopped beating. The pain in her eyes almost had him pulling her into his arms to take it away. Then, just as swiftly, it disappeared as he effectively pushed those annoying emotions away. No good would come from feeling that way.

  “Oh, my. He hit you. You’re bleeding.”

  Fireworks exploded in an instant when she grabbed his hand and yanked him inside. There was nothing gentle in the way she pulled him down the hallway and into the living room. Maybe she thought he’d resist. Damn it, he would’ve if not for the way her touch was playing hell with his body.

  The brief times they touched, just a little brush of fingers as she handed him a coffee, he felt it. That something. He couldn’t describe what it was, because he didn’t like to think about it. Thinking was bad.

  But right here and now. The way she grasped his hand, holding on with a firm grip, he couldn’t ignore what that something was.

  Desire.

  He hated it.

  Disengaging his hand from hers, almost rude-like, he took a step away from the couch where she wanted him to take a seat.

  She looked puzzled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…have a seat. I’ll go get a washcloth.”

  Before he could protest, she scurried away. His feet ached to run. To flee as fast as possible, yet he stood immobile. Her soft touch still lingered on his palm.

  No! It was all wrong. He shouldn’t—couldn’t—feel this way. He’d ruin her. Just like he ruined—

  He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to block his mind from any thought that would pull him down into the rabbit hole. His dizzying thoughts jumbled into one big mess until his heart skipped a beat. Her hand touched him again. Popping open his eyes, he stared straight into her emerald green eyes, not missing the pain that was back. Before, her brother put it there. This time, he did it.

  Her hand fell away from his shoulder, then her other hand hung between them with a wet washcloth. “For your lip. I can’t believe he hit you.”

  “Yeah, he’s not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree.” Aiden took the washcloth, careful not to touch any of her fingers. He couldn’t handle anymore touching. “Did he hurt you?”

  His gaze flicked to her wrist as she rubbed it furiously.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t lie.”

  He almost staggered back at the tone in her voice. He deserved that. Wiping his lip, unsure of what to say, if he should even say anything, he let the warm rag soothe the crack in his lip.

  “What did he want?”

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she shrugged. “What he always wants. Money. I told him no and to leave and he wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to call the cops.”

  “You never do.” He wanted to take a step closer. It took all his restraint to stay firmly where he stood. “It’s a good thing you did. He’s drunk. He could’ve hurt you.”

  “He’s my brother. He’d never hurt me.”

  Aiden didn’t respond to that. Not much he could say. Calling her a liar didn’t seem right, but he heard the doubt in her voice. Hell, he doubted it himself. Her brother’s drinking was getting steadily worse. He wouldn’t put it past Brennen to lay a hand on his sister. And if he did, he’d answer to him. No one would ever hurt Theresa. Absolutely nobody.

  Whoa!

  Where did these protective feelings come from? One little touch from her and he wanted—

  There he was thinking again. To think he thought he perfected not letting his thoughts get carried away.

  “You want to press charges, right?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Theresa…this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. Every time you call us, we come and make him leave without arresting him. He’s not going to stop if you don’t send a message. Because merely calling us isn’t sending the right message.” The warmth of the washcloth in his hand slowly disappeared as the temperature in the room chilled to an iceberg. If it was even warm to begin with. It normally wasn’t when he was around. “Regardless, he’ll be sitting on an assault charge.”

  “He has a problem. He needs help, not a jail cell.”

  “I know. But he always refuses help, so maybe a cell will give him time to reflect.” He could’ve laughed at that statement. Reflecting about things never led to anything good. “It’s up to you. Yes or no.”

  “I’ll talk to him when he’s sober. I’ll get him some help. I don’t…want to press charges.”

  His lips thinned into a tight line. Of course, it wasn’t his call. If she didn’t want to press charges, he wouldn’t press the issue. Without her statement, the case wouldn’t go very far. At least he could get him on the assault charge. The little punk needed to learn a lesson.

  He glanced away, unable to stand the hurt in her eyes. He did nothing but be a jackass all the time, and no matter how much he didn’t want to act that way, he couldn’t stop it.

  A Christmas tree stood in the corner of the room, close to the television. Almost a sad looking tree. Not full and bristly like his parents always got every Christmas. Oh, and they went all-out, venturing into the woods to pick the perfect tree, then his dad chopping it down like he was some sort of lumberjack when in reality he was an accountant.

  The branches on the tree were small, almost sparse in some spots, and a tint of brown towards the back. Obviously, Theresa was trying to hide that part, situating it against the wall with the hope people wouldn’t notice.

  Besides the sad, pitiful look, she had it decorated beautifully. Bright, colorful lights twinkled all around. Ornaments, from glass balls to homemade wooden crafts, hung from the thin, bare branches. On the very top, an angel rested with grace and beauty. Most people had a star on top, his parents included. He had to admit, he liked the angel there instead. Something about the delicate angel spoke to him. Like it could see straight into his soul and wipe clean the pain and regret with one simple look.

  “Nice tree.”

  She coughed, as if she was trying to hide a laugh. He whipped his gaze to hers. She thought he was being sarcastic, that he honestly didn’t believe it looked nice. Because it was, puny as it appeared.

  “It is a nice tree.”

  “Thank you.” She turned her eyes away. “Are we done?”

  “You don’t have any popcorn strings on there.”

  “What?” She looked back at him confused.

  He was a little confused himself. Why did he just say that?

  “You know, stringing popcorn. It’s a tradition in my family.”

  “Well, it’s not in mine. I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

  I could teach you. The words punctured his thoughts too quickly before he could stop himself. And so unwelcome. He might think it, but he’d never say it out loud. It was for the best if he kept his distance.

  “If you change your mind about pressing charges, let me know. I wish you would. He’ll see the judge tomorrow for a bail hearing. Have a good night, Theresa.”


  He set the washcloth on the end of the couch and walked out. It wouldn’t do well for him to think about Theresa in any manner other than how badly she made a pot of coffee. Anything else was unacceptable.

  ❄

  Theresa grabbed the washcloth before it soaked into her couch. Not that she could brag about her couch, but still. It seemed like every time she spoke to Officer Crowl it didn’t go so well. And like the jerk her brother could be when he drank, he had to spout out words of her love to Officer Crowl, who still had the manners to ignore it. One of these times, she wished he’d just come out and say, “Why does your brother keep insisting you like me? You don’t, right?” Then she could say, “Actually, I do.” Then she could sink to the bottom of the floor where he could stomp all over her heart. Then she could move on with her life.

  Of course, it would never happen. She was doomed to live with her secret, pining and hoping one of these days he’d see her as more than just the girl who made terrible coffee.

  Glancing at her Christmas tree, she shut her eyes for a brief second then swore out loud. “You idiot, Theresa. When will you learn?” Stalking to the tree, she yanked on the cord, unplugging it from the wall. She left the tree plugged in while she wasn’t home.

  Like she had a bad habit of doing, she left it plugged in last night before going to bed. She knew better than that. But she just loved seeing it lit, even if it wasn’t the prettiest tree out there. Sometimes money could be scarce, especially when her brother came sniffing around and stole from her. She couldn’t afford to be picky when it came to buying a tree.

  On December first, every single year, she was at Jeff’s Tree Lot to pick out her tree. She had it set up in the corner of the room, same spot every year, decorated, and looking as beautiful as she could possibly make it. Sometimes she ached to purchase a tree the day right after Thanksgiving, but she had a ritual. December first. She wasn’t going to change her routine no matter how much she wanted to. It was fun to go out searching for a tree, getting it home and decorating it as Christmas music swirled around the room with merry abandon. Bonzo was always sweet and transported it home for her.