12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart Read online

  The elves hopped out the wagon a few seconds later and dropped back a few yards behind him, carrying the giant Santa sack between them. Candy still flew to both sides of the street and children continued to smile and laugh.

  Peter tried to wave a few times, but each time he put both reins in one hand that damned car would backfire again. He didn’t want to disappoint the kids, so he tried again. The car hadn’t backfired for at least a minute. Maybe the idiot had finally turned it off.

  No. Such. Luck.

  A huge crack split through the air as they passed the Grove apartment complex and with only one hand holding the reins, Peter couldn’t hold the powerful quarter horses back again. His arms were already shaking from keeping them calm for the last five blocks.

  One of the mares reared up, and the left rein slipped from his hand before he could tighten his hold. “Whoa!” he shouted, trying to reassure the horse and warn the people ahead of him at the same time. “Girls, move to the right!” he bellowed at the cheerleaders ahead of him. The horse would break left into the residential area. They wouldn’t run toward the storefronts.

  A second later, the wagon had hopped the sidewalk and they were running over flowerbeds and sidewalks. People were scattering in all directions. Screams from both sides of the wagon made his blood run cold. He could only pray everyone made it out of the way in time.

  He wrestled with the remaining rein in his grip and yanked on the mare harnessed to the right.

  Everything happened in a few seconds, but it felt like time had slowed to a standstill.

  “Whoa, pretty lady! Whoa!”

  A woman screamed and Peter’s heart nearly stopped beating. One of the horses bumped her, and she went sailing backward onto the lawn to his left.

  “Dammit!”

  Two huge animals —wolves—leapt out in front of the startled mares, snapping their jaws and snarling. A second later, there were two VonBrandts next to them, waving their arms and distracting the mares. The one on the left reared again, but seemed to be much more worried about the one-hundred-fifty pound hybrid wolf growling at her side than the long forgotten car exhaust.

  He recognized Aaron on the right, but he didn’t know the man on the left.

  Peter grabbed the side of the wagon to lower himself to the ground, but paused. Taking a deep breath, he contemplated the golden-eyed black wolf only a few feet away. “I really need to go check on her.” He pointed over his shoulder where he’d seen the woman get nearly run over. “Is he—”

  “Midnight won’t hurt you. Go ahead, we’ll stay with the mares,” the stranger said.

  Peter nodded and jumped to the hard ground. He sprinted toward the woman sitting on a nearby lawn.

  She was shouting at another man, who was standing over her, trying to help her to her feet.

  “Get away from me. I don’t want you on my property. None of you. I’ll sue this town for the damage! This stupid parade will never happen again!”

  Chapter 3

  Carolyn Myers bit her tongue. Her ankle hurt like she’d been hit with a two-by-four. Oh, wait. She’d been run over by a horse pulling Santa’s sleigh!

  Of all the things, it had to be a freakin’ wagon designed to look like a sleigh. The incompetence was intolerable. How dare they put jittery horses in a public parade.

  This was just another thing to add to her long list of reasons she hated the holidays. Hated Christmas, especially. At the top of the list, because her husband had left her on Christmas Eve for another woman.

  After that, the tinsel and lights had lost their charm. She hated the colors red and green. This stupid parade every year was just extra work. She had to go out and clean up the candy and crap they tossed to the onlookers who lined the streets and trampled her lawn. Every year she petitioned the town to pick a different street for the stroll and every year she was told the same thing.

  No.

  The Holiday Stroll was always a mess. So loud. The children squealing and parents hollering at them. The din of the off-key marching bands. The annoyingly chipper attitudes of all the carolers and other participants made her physically ill.

  Why couldn’t her husband have left her on Martin Luther King Day or Presidents Day? Why did he have to go and ruin a holiday she’d used to love?

  Now she couldn’t stand the sight of a piece of holly without wanting to scream. The hole in her heart had never healed. Ten years, and it still felt as fresh as the day Bill had walked out on her. Now Christmas had dealt her another blow.

  And it felt like a really bad sprain.

  “Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want me to call for an ambulance?”

  She looked up into the strangers’ face and frowned. “I’ll be fine. Just get off my lawn and leave me the hell alone.”

  The young man’s eyes widened and he backed away, as if she were an animal with its teeth bared. Kinda like those monstrous hybrid wolves standing next to the horses and sleigh. Good grief, they were huge.

  “That wasn’t very neighborly of you,” a gravely voice rumbled to her left.

  She turned to meet a pair of honey-brown eyes and a smile that made even her frosty wall of self-imposed-isolation melt just a bit.

  Two dimples creased his cheeks as a smile split the lower half of his face. A hint of silver peeked from beneath the white wig, and his cheeks were scruffy with a day-old beard as he tugged the bearded white sham down to hang around his neck.

  “Maybe I’m not a nice neighbor,” she spat out, instead of wincing at the pain lancing through her left ankle. “Maybe you should leave me alone, too. Didn’t you hear what I told him?”

  “Maybe I’m too stubborn to take orders from a beautiful lady who’s obviously in a great deal of pain.”

  Carolyn opened her mouth and then snapped it back closed. When was the last time a man had called her beautiful? She couldn’t place a single instance in the last decade. Although, it wasn’t like she gave men much of a chance, either. She worked from home on the computer, ordered her clothes online, and ate takeout pretty much every day of the week. Putting on makeup was a thing of the past.

  She didn’t need or want the attention of anyone, especially a man.

  Seeing people wasn’t really on the need-to-do or want-to-do list. It was bad enough she had to come out and clean up her perfectly manicured lawn after the parade passed by. The service she paid to take care of it during the summer closed down in the winter. She’d tried to get the neighbors’ kids to do it for her one year, but they didn’t do a good enough job and she’d ended up having clean up after they left.

  “I’m Peter Gibson,” said the giant male looming over her.

  Ignoring the natural urge to introduce herself, she glared instead. “I was serious when I said I wanted you to leave me alone. Your parade is leaving without you.”

  He knelt, meeting her eye level. “Do you have pain anywhere besides your ankle?”

  “No,” she said, trying not to flinch when he gently moved her hand aside and raised the pant leg of her jeans.

  “Ouch,” he exclaimed.

  Her ankle was already double its normal size and turning purple.

  “Who can I call for you? That needs a doctor’s attention, ASAP.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll wrap it up inside, and it’ll be fine. Just get back to your—”

  He slipped an arm around her torso and another under her legs, scooping her up like damsel in distress.

  Damn it to hell. She did not need a knight in shining armor to save the day. There was no such thing, anyway. “What the he—”

  “Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear. “There are children. Watch the language.”

  She snapped her teeth together, barely missing her tongue. Her lips compressed and she huffed, instead of yelling at him.

  “I know a doc up at the theatre who can look at your leg, wrap it up, and make sure if you need to go to the hospital or not.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “I figured you’d say
that. That’s why you’re coming with me.”

  “I don’t want to come with you. You. You big oaf.”

  “I’m Santa,” he said, a chuckle shaking her against his strong chest. “Everyone wants to be with Santa.”

  “Not me.”

  “Can we make it the rest of the way, Aaron?” Peter asked, stopping beside the wagon/sleigh.

  Aaron VonBrandt nodded. “Who’s your friend? Is she injured?”

  “She won’t say. But her ankle is twisted pretty bad. I’m going to take her up to the theatre and let Doc Cooper look at her.”

  “My name is Carolyn Myers and I will be fine. Just put me down.” He had some nerve, talking to the man as if she wasn’t even present. She wriggled in his arms and he let his arm slip out from under her legs, but pressed her torso tighter to his firm chest. She couldn’t help but notice how in-shape he was. It’d been a long time since she had touched, much less been held, by a man under any circumstances.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he drawled out.

  She pushed away from his chest and huffed again. He was treating her like a child. She wasn’t one. Carolyn took a step and bit back the scream of agony that rose in her throat. Strong arms closed around her again before she could fall. When she caught her breath and opened her eyes, she was once again in Santa’s arms.

  “I believe that means you won’t be going anywhere without me, Carolyn.” He flashed a wide smile. “How about you come to the theatre with me? Let me hand out all the gifts. Doc Cooper can wrap up your leg. Then I’ll take you home.”

  “How about you take me home right now.”

  His lips scrunched together in the most adorable way, and he shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think so.”

  “I’m not dressed to stay out in this cold. I just came out to pick up the trash really quick.”

  “I have a coat you can wear,” he said, then frowned like he’d spoken to soon.

  He lifted her onto the wagon seat and looked up, meeting her gaze, a pained expression in his previously jovial brown eyes. “The coat is there on the seat. You’ll be plenty warm in it.”

  She looked to her right. A beautiful red velvet coat, lined with thermal material on the inside and trimmed with fluffy white fur along the edges was carefully draped over the seat.

  “Whose coat is it?”

  He walked around the back of the wagon, to the other side as she slipped into the soft warm coverup.

  “My wife’s.”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Where’s your wife?”

  “She passed away. I bring it with me every year to remember her by.”

  “Oh, God.” She choked on the words. “I’m so sorry.” Carolyn started to pull the coat off and hand it back, but he put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

  “She won’t mind. And it looks good on you.” The pain had disappeared from his gaze and been replaced with a different look. It reminded her of the look her husband used to give her when they’d first gotten married.

  The look of an interested man.

  She closed her eyes and turned to face the horses hitched to the wagon. This was a complication she didn’t need, whether her body craved to be touched by his calloused hands again, or cradled in his arms against his solid chest.

  I hate Christmas.

  Chapter 4

  Peter waved the men off standing beside the mares and they backed away, calling the wolves to follow them —one as black as night and the other whiter than the clouds in the sky. Beautifully terrifying.

  Both were larger than any dog she’d ever seen. Their backs were level with the mens’ waists they walked next to.

  “Pretty big, aren’t they?”

  Had she spoken out loud? “What?”

  “The wolves,” he said, a chuckle rolling up from deep within his chest. You haven’t stopped staring at them since we started moving.”

  “Why would anyone want a wolf as a pet?”

  “Technically, they’re hybrids. Not pure wolf. As for why…no clue. I guess if you have enough money, you end up with things that typical people don’t even consider an option.”

  She shrugged. It was a good answer if the men were rich, but their clothes looked the same as anyone else wandering town square during the parade.

  “Do you know them?”

  “You don’t know Aaron VonBrandt?”

  “I know his name, but I’d never seen him face to face. Who was the other man?”

  Peter was the one shaking his head this time. “Not sure. Never met him. But the VonBrandts have a lot of family living out on their ranches. And a lot of people that visit regularly. He was probably family or a friend. Since the wolf knew him. My best guess is family.”

  “Hmmm.” She pulled the coat a little tighter, cutting off the bite of the cold wind.

  He pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the theatre and hopped to the ground. He handed the reins to a man she didn’t recognize, but who bore a striking resemblance to the men with the wolves. He was much younger, though.

  “Tell your dad thanks again for the horses.”

  The younger man gave a half-smile. “Sorry Lady gave you a start. We’ve never had trouble with her like that before. She’s always so calm.”

  “It’s okay, Noah. Even horses can have a bad day.” Peter circled the wagon and came around to stand beside the bench seat. He raised his arms. “You’re going to have to scoot off the bench into my arms. I promise I won’t let you drop.”

  Using her good leg, Carolyn did as asked and slipped off the seat. His hands caught her around the waist and he let her body slide slowly through his grasp against his chest. Her breath hitched as her breasts pressed against him once more. She licked her lips without thinking.

  “Something look good, Miss Myers?”

  Heat rushed up her neck and spread through her face. He hadn’t just flirted with her had he?

  “I…wha…” Her lips parted, but she couldn’t form a coherent thought.

  Peter smiled again. Those perfect dimples gave him a boyish charm even at his age…whatever that might be. She couldn’t be sure. Early fifties, maybe.

  “Lean against the wagon for a sec.”

  She did, and frowned when he tugged the white beard up from where it hung limply at his neck. After fixing it in place, most of his handsome face was covered. Instead, she saw the icon of the holiday she hated with every fiber of her being. Carolyn remembered she was wearing his dead wife’s coat.

  Her emotions were getting the better of her and that needed to stop. After this doc looked at her, and Peter Gibson took her back to her house, she’d be done with this. She’d never have to see him again. In fact, she would call up a realtor tomorrow and list the house for sale. It was high time she moved to a bigger city. Maybe leaving the quietness of Somewhere in the past would finally help her leave her past behind as well.

  She loved this small town. But it hurt every time she stepped foot outside her front door. Memories of growing up with her ex-husband. Dating him. He was the only boy she’d ever dated. And the only man she’d ever loved.

  And he’d ripped out her heart and stomped all over it.

  She’d vowed that night to never let another man that close. Even if it meant being alone for the rest of her life.

  His hand cupped her chin and lifted her head until she met his honey-brown gaze again. “Where did you go, Carolyn? Why are you so sad?”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. “You’re the one carrying around your dead wife’s coat.”

  Oh, God! How could she have just said that?

  His expression behind the white beard was crestfallen. She was pretty sure she saw a tear escape one eye before he quickly wiped it away.

  He coughed and scooped her up into his arms again like she weighed no more than the children she could hear squealing from inside the building.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was a horrible thing to say. I shouldn’t have. I’m sure you have your reasons.” Her face burned and
she wanted to shrink from sight. Instead, she was trapped in the arms of a nice man who’d been nothing but kind to her and was only trying to make sure she got the proper care for her injury.

  In return she’d been a bitch and insulted his wife. His dead wife.

  She’d let her bitterness over what’d happened to her ten years ago drag her to a new low.

  “It was a horrible thing to say, but I’m sure you had your reasons as well.” His voice rumbled low, through his chest and rolled through her body as well.

  Peter pushed open the front door of the Piper Theatre with his shoulder and more Christmas cheer assailed her from every angle. Tinsel. Strings of popcorn and cranberries. Garland. Holly. Lights. Lights. And more lights.

  Children screamed in excitement.

  “Santa!… Santa’s here!… And Mrs. Claus too!… Yay!… Santa brought Mrs. Claus this year!” The cheers rang from every corner of the room.

  “I’m no—”

  “Shhhh,” he commanded. “Don’t ruin it for them. You can be Mrs. Claus for an hour or two.”

  “I don’t want to be Mrs. Claus for five minutes. Put me down and take this coat.”

  He shook his head. “Merry Christmas,” he bellowed. “Can you bring another chair for Mrs. Claus? She hurt her ankle and can’t stand up.”

  Several adults moved quickly, and another rocking chair was set next to the large wooden one already in the center of the large hall. An endless pile of brightly colored gifts was stacked around the rocker and an enormous, festively decorated Christmas tree was set up behind it.

  Oh, God. “They’re going to take pictures, aren’t they?” Her voice came out softer than a whisper.

  “Yep. Which means I get to see you smile. I’ve been imagining what that might look like since I first picked you up.” He winked and she scowled. He clucked his tongue and set her gently in the rocker. Then arranged the oversized robe to hide her clothes beneath it. He hooked the button at the top of her neck and brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw.