What Mistletoe Is For (Blushing Books 12 Days of Christmas 2) Read online

  "I can't afford that, no," she agreed. Hopefully, she wasn't blushing—and if she was, she could always blame it on the cold. "Glad you're in charge of the place now. Though, I have to say, I liked Russ and Emily, too."

  "They seem like nice folks." With a gentlemanly tip of his hat, Preston promised, "And I'll keep an eye on Storm for you, personally."

  "Oh—I'd appreciate that."

  Waiting until he was gone, Casey swore under her breath.

  How was that for a sticky situation? Preston Fuller, the man she'd been seeing—the man she'd been serious about—before they broke up and she began seeing Gary Minter, who had eventually become her husband.

  Hastily, she put away the brush and let Storm back into his stall. Had Preston secretly reacted the same way? He might not have said anything, but she knew he had to have remembered those times during their relationship.

  Specifically, the times he had applied the back of a similar brush to her bare bottom.

  Because Preston also bore another distinction: He was the only man in her life who had ever taken her over his knee and spanked her whenever he deemed she was in need of being spanked.

  "'Night, baby," she cooed to Storm, stroking his snout and giving it a kiss before hurrying out of the tables.

  Was she being silly? Maybe he hadn't given it another thought. That was all ancient history, anyway. What had happened between them had long since been forgotten, by her and most likely by him, too.

  She nearly slipped on a patch of slippery snow on her way to the car. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she saw the "house," as she called it. The one-story building looked like a house. It actually served as the office for the stables, though it also had a kitchen and an outdoor area that was sometimes rented out for birthday parties, both for adults and kids.

  Well, Russ and Emily, the previous owners, had used it for that. Time would tell if Preston would do things differently.

  The three rockers on the rear porch were empty at that hour of the night. She spotted his profile in the window. He had taken off his hat and he looked to be leaning forward, as if reading or, as he'd told her, working on the stables' books.

  Preston Fuller. Of all the people in the world for Russ and Emily to have sold their business to! She swore again as she made her way out of the parking lot and turned onto the road for home.

  Her health had been in question that one night he'd toasted her rear. According to Preston, Casey was mostly well behaved; but she hadn't been taking care of herself during that time. She'd been working at the hospital as a nurse for a couple of years and she was really couldn't afford to miss work. Neither did she want to slow down, which was typical Casey... then and now.

  She had then lied about going to see the doctor. Preston had caught her in that lie. That night he'd made good on his threats to put her over his knee.

  In fairness, he had been warning her about taking her health seriously, and this was coming after a bout with bronchitis. Thoroughly done with warnings, Preston had pulled out a chair in the kitchen, hauled her over his lap, and pulled her pants and panties down before spanking her with a horse grooming brush.

  Hard, too. Casey remembered she'd wailed and bucked, trying to get her tail out of the line of fire. By the time he tossed aside the brush and righted her onto her feet, she was hopping from one foot to the other, trying to rub the heat and sting out of her soundly paddled derriere.

  "You can't spank me like a naughty child!" she'd protested.

  "Honey, I just did."

  He'd been so calm and smug about it. The nerve of that man!

  And she hadn't had the common sense to leave him after that. Even though he insisted on spanking her whenever she didn't behave or refused to take proper care of herself, she had stayed with him. It wasn't until later, until something else had happened, that she broke up with Preston Fuller.

  Then along came Gary Minter. The rest, as the saying goes, was history.

  Casey pulled into her driveway. The driveway to the home where she'd been living ever since she'd sold the home she and Gary had shared throughout her marriage.

  That had been her parents' advice, and she had seen the wisdom in it. She simply couldn't live there, with all those memories of Gary. Never mind that the house in Hendersonville was also too huge for a woman living alone. She and Gary had hoped to have two or three kids, a plan that, apparently, was not meant to be. The tests had determined that the difficulty lay with Casey, a fact that had broken her heart.

  Now she was a widow. It didn't matter that she couldn't conceive babies. She had also moved to that little, brick ranch house, which she enjoyed.

  She was proud of herself for figuring out how to string the Christmas lights on the porch. Gary had always done those outdoor things. Lord knew, she knew exactly what to prescribe for a pregnant lady's infection, and she knew when it was necessary to turn a patient over to Dr. Lister or Dr. Mills, but stringing up Christmas lights left her mystified.

  Closing and locking the door behind herself, she pet her Dachshund, Bobbie, named after a childhood friend, on the head and gave her a doggie treat. Casey then made herself a cup of coffee and turned on the lights on her Christmas tree in the living room.

  What bugged her ever more than seeing her old boyfriend—whom she'd once been head-over-heels in love with—was the fact that there was something about being turned over a man's lap and spanked that she'd found, well... not so objectionable.

  Yep, the verdict's in, she thought, sighing and tossing back her head. I'm crazy!

  Chapter Two

  "If any woman had ever needed to be taken in hand, it was Casey Jordan." Preston stopped for a moment before grudgingly adding, "Minter."

  "What's that?" his brother Gavin asked before polishing off his sandwich.

  "Minter. That was her husband's name. She was married. She's widowed now, poor guy died in an accident. Now she's Casey Jordan-Minter."

  "Oh. Sounds good together. But bet you wish it was Casey Jordan-Fuller." His younger brother washed down a bite of food with a large gulp of sweet tea. "And she's not yours to take in hand anymore."

  "Thanks. I really needed Captain Obvious showing up." Preston had ordered the grilled fish sandwich, thinking it would be lighter than a roast beef sandwich or a cheeseburger for lunch. He still only ate about three quarters of it before getting full.

  "You still have feelings for her?"

  "No. 'Course not. It's been years."

  "She's put on a lot of weight?"

  "No. Even if she did, she'd still be beautiful. And I got different tastes, little brother."

  Wasn't that the truth? Gavin liked his women to look like they'd just flown in from Hollywood. Skinny, little size 2s. Preston had always preferred a woman who was built like a woman. He certainly had nothing against curvy ladies.

  "It's been a long time." He reached for the check.

  "I got that," Gavin insisted.

  "You got it last time. My treat today. I have a few things to get before I get back to the stables."

  "That was a mistake."

  "What was?"

  "What else? The stables. You'll lose money on that place. Best-case scenario, you'll sell it back to the church."

  "I didn't buy it from the church, Gavin," Preston explained patiently. "I rent space from the church. The church owns all the property, both where the Shaded Oaks Stables are located and everything around it. I'm happy I bought it."

  "Yeah. Any reason besides it gives you an excuse to see Casey again?"

  Preston pretended he hadn't heard the teasing remark. He brought his credit card out from his wallet and placed it on top of the restaurant check.

  "I have to get some things for Christmas," he specified. "Including for you. So you gotta get lost after this."

  "No problem. Make sure my Maserati matches my eyes!" His brother was on a roll and laughed at his own joke.

  "Yeah, sure. You hold your breath waiting for a Maserati!"

  He bid goodbye
to his brother at the end of their lunch and walked from the restaurant into the mall.

  Preston hated malls at any time of the year, but they really become menaces during Christmas. True, his new assistant at the stables had claimed she did most of her shopping online.

  He was too old-fashioned for that. He was also worried that anything could happen and he wouldn't get all of his purchases done in time. So for him, the mall it was for all his shopping needs.

  But what to buy? His nephew and niece were twelve and ten, respectively. What were they into now, at that age? It was so much easier when they were little and he could collaborate with his brother and sister-in-law, getting them whatever toys Santa wouldn't be bringing them.

  He also had cut down his list by now. It wasn't just the expense; he was tired of the commercialism. Whatever happened to the side of Christmas that had nothing to do with price tags and the stores' sales figures?

  "Oh, that's nice. Real nice. I'll take that."

  Preston hadn't found anything he liked, either for Gavin or Tamara, so he had been heading out of the department store back to the mall entrance. He was passing the perfume section when he heard a familiar voice. Turning, he saw her, spraying perfume on her wrist and sniffing it.

  Fate had to be a naughty woman. How else to explain that timing, seeing Casey again so soon? There, of all places, at the mall. Someplace he typically avoided like the plague, until Christmas shopping made that quest impossible.

  She had seen him, too. Was it his imagination or had she gotten even sexier after all those years apart? Preston knew Casey's mom was Caucasian and her dad was African-American. She had turned out to be a gorgeous blend of both parents, with a tawny complexion, her hair in long rivulets, and brownish-green eyes.

  "Christmas shopping?" she asked him, and he sort of gathered it was just her way of making small talk.

  He had never quite mastered the art of small talk, but his mom and dad had taught him manners.

  "And then I'm running out of this place as if my tail's on fire," he joked.

  "Me, too! I don't mind the mall. It's the crowds that drive me nuts. Oh—" pausing, she handed the sales associate her card, "make that debit."

  "Are you sure? We'll take an extra fifteen percent off if you use our credit card today," the woman tried to tempt her.

  "That's all right. Trying not to use my credit cards."

  Something in her tone of voice must have told the saleswoman not to push the matter. Preston nodded in silent admiration.

  "Good for you," he said when they'd walked away with her purchase. "Everybody's stuck with bills after the holiday."

  "Believe me, I will be, too. But I got a bonus at work. Trying to use that instead of my plastic."

  "Coming by to ride Storm later?"

  "Nah. Maybe later this week. I passed by last week, but... you weren't around."

  "Ah." Had she looked for him? He thought better about getting his hopes up. "Got plans for Christmas and New Year's?"

  "Christmas, going over my parents'. Erin and her family are going, too."

  "Erin! How's she doing? She's married?"

  "Married with twins!"

  "Twins? That's not easy, I'm told." Preston licked his lips and led her through a small crowd waiting to see Santa at his workshop, set up near a sporting goods store and a jewelry shop. "You didn't mention the last time I saw you if you had kids."

  "I don't. Um...it just didn't happen for us."

  Preston nodded, feeling slightly foolish for asking. No children and then Casey lost her husband suddenly. Tragically.

  "Very sorry about that," he murmured.

  Her response was a squeeze of his hand, as if to tell him there was no harm in him having asked.

  "Guess life doesn't always work out like we want it to," she mused out loud.

  "That's true."

  Like when you broke up with me. His pride prevented him from adding that part. Unbeknownst to her, he had taken that pretty hard.

  "What are your plans for Christmas?"

  "Dinner at my brother's."

  "Hmm. How about New Year's?"

  "I never do much for New Year's," he replied.

  "Me, either. I'm a boring reveler."

  "Not as bad as me. I have a beer and I try to stay up to watch the ball drop in Times Square on TV," he admitted.

  "I got you beat. I fall asleep before it does." Casey giggled and slid her arm through the crook of his.

  Quickly, she pulled it back... just when he had drawn close to her, a natural reflex.

  "Sorry. Didn't mean to be so forward," she mumbled.

  "You won't hear me complain. Look, speaking of drinking—"

  "Were we speaking about alcoholic beverages?"

  "I mentioned beer, but I'm open to suggestions." He was glad she smiled at that. "How about we get this misery—shopping—over with, and then you meet me later for a drink?"

  "Oh. Yeah. No, I… I don't think that's such a hot idea."

  Shot down. In a blaze of glory, no less.

  Should've known better, he told himself, holding back a sigh.

  "Maybe some other time."

  "Maybe. No, wait..." Casey shrugged. "Look, I'm so rusty at this. You just wanna meet, have a drink, talk about old times and stuff, or new times, whatever, right?"

  "That's—yeah. Look, I'm rusty, too. I'm an old cowboy who has investment properties and who writes mysteries. I'm not exactly a playboy livin' la vida loca."

  "You're not? Then why would I be interested?"

  Her playfulness set him at ease. Not too much at ease. He thought of reaching back and giving her a sharp, but teasing smack on her behind in mock retaliation. Fortunately, he stopped himself in time.

  "Because I know a place where they play grownup music and we get a nice view of the mountains. Carly's." Preston glanced at his watch. "Pick you up or meet you there?"

  "Meet me there."

  "Okay. Seven?"

  "Seven's good."

  "Cool. See you later. Don't stand me up. Or else."

  "Or else what, tough guy?"

  Preston had turned to leave but stopped at her challenge. Her head was tilted to the side and she looked pretty naughty, with a come-get-a-piece-of-me expression on her face.

  Was there more to her little game? Was she trying to arouse him? Because it was working. On the other hand, if she thought he was going to make it easy on her, then she had another guess coming.

  "Or else... I've got your horse."

  She laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "That means you don't have a choice. You'll have to see me again."

  Casey narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll see you, but you don't get to spank me again, Preston. I'm not yours anymore. This is strictly a friendly meeting for drinks."

  "Yes, ma'am. That's all it's gonna be."

  "Good! See ya tonight."

  He arched an eyebrow at her backside as she flounced away in those black leggings and black ankle boots with fur trim folded down.

  Pretty cocky for a woman who, whether she realized it or not, still had plenty of unfinished business to tend to with him. Who had gone and married someone else while he was still in love with her.

  Preston walked down the corridor, intent on finishing the business of shopping for presents. Even more intent on trying not to notice his growing excitement at the prospect of seeing his former girlfriend again that evening.

  Whether he was too stubborn to admit it or not, Casey had made off with a huge chunk of his heart years ago. She still owned it, too, judging by the feelings she was once more bringing to life in him.

  *****

  There were other stables within reasonable distance where she could board Storm. Hopefully, by the end of that evening, she wouldn't be rushing to find one to replace Shaded Oaks Stables.

  Not only had she, in a moment of recklessness, let herself get talked into meeting Preston for a drink, but she'd also brought up the 's' word with him. Only one person knew about
the 's' word and that was Lisa. Not even Erin knew about it.

  She could have gotten there on time, too. Then she'd gotten to thinking about what he said about not getting stood up. It was silly and it was petty, but she still sat in the parking lot for a full ten minutes, waiting until 7:10 before entering Carly's.

  Live music! Preston had mentioned grownup music, but not the fact that there was a real, live band playing that evening. A real, live singer was doing Michael Bublé's "Feeling Good" some serious justice.

  Preston was seated at a booth for two by a window when she strolled in. He waved her over, not appearing the least bit angry that she was late.

  Why should that surprise her? He'd never been a hothead. That was something maddening about him. He rarely, if ever, lost his temper. In the past, when he had spanked her, he'd been fully in control of himself.

  You're not getting spanked tonight. This is a friendly, little get-together. One drink and you're outta here.

  "Sorry, I'm late, cowboy," she apologized. "I don't want you thinking you were getting stood up."

  Surprise registered on Preston's face. "You weren't trying to test me, were you, Casey?"

  "Uh-uh. Couldn't decide what to wear," she replied, all innocence and light.

  Preston didn't look totally convinced. Still, he flagged over the young waitress.

  He, too, had changed. Still casual, in dark denim jeans and a black sweater. Honestly, the man looked amazing in anything he wore.

  She had changed into a slinky, rose-colored sweater dress, accentuated with heels and understated jewelry. Just a necklace, hoop earrings, and her watch.

  The waiter took their orders—a Long Island Iced Tea for him, a glass of Chardonnay for her—and was off to fetch their drinks.

  "So... not trying to get off on the wrong foot with you," Casey began. "But why would you think I was testing you?"

  Cool as a cucumber, Preston sat back and shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe for old time's sake?"

  "Oh, c'mon. I wasn't that bad back then. Was I?"

  "You were a handful."

  His chuckle made her smile in spite of herself.

  "I guess it's fun testing a man," she purred, "who always thinks he's right."