The Christmas Eve Kiss: A Snow Valley Christmas Romance Read online

  By Taylor Hart

  To my four boys; Daniel, Grant, Jacob, Benjamin—you’re the best! To the man of my dreams, my husband, Mark—I love you forever!

  Copyright Information

  All rights reserved.

  © 2014 ArchStone Ink

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, Taryn A. Taylor. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC, South Jordan, Utah.

  First eBook Edition: 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Additional Works

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter 1

  Denver, Colorado

  If I hadn’t been a cynic, I might have found the mistletoe hanging above the apartment door romantic or hopeful or happy. But, I’d quit believing in Christmas miracles and love and fairytales a long time ago. Too bad my roommate, Christina, was still naïve enough to hope a plant, and a poisonous one at that, would lead to a handsome prince.

  The tape anchoring the mistletoe ripped easily as I pulled it down. I put my key into the lock and shoved the door back. “I’m not amused, Christina,” I said waving the offending plant in front of me as I entered the apartment.

  Laughter sounded from the kitchen and light Christmas music lingered in the background. I followed the sound down the hall. Gold and red lights lit up a Christmas tree and quirky homemade decorations set off strands of popcorn. I told Christina not to take the time to decorate, but she hadn’t listened to me. She never did.

  Christina held a piece of tomatillo out to me. “Try this, Molly, and tell me if it’s too salty.” Her green cat-looking eyes sparkled with mischief as she flipped her long, black hair off her shoulder. “And what do you have against mistletoe?”

  Her homemade tomatillos were enough to ease my irritation. The tomato flavor exploded into my mouth, both sweet and salty. I remembered why I put up with Christina’s eccentric ways—good cooking.

  “Yum.” I breathed out and closed my eyes for a second.

  Christina laughed. “You look tired, why do you choose to work insane hours during the best time of year? You need to relax, kiss more men. Kiss any man. Quit selling rings and get a ring on your finger.”

  I did work insane hours, but that was the jewelry business at Christmas time. “Can I just tell you how glad I’ll be when the most wonderful time of the year is over? Six days.”

  Christina batted her eyes at me. She made a kissing motion. “It’s because of that heart breaker, Kevin, isn’t it? The one from Snow Valley? That’s why you don’t like mistletoe?”

  I vaguely remembered letting his name slip one too late night over too much hot chocolate. “Please don’t say that name.”

  She shrugged, lifting a speculative eyebrow. “Well, it doesn’t matter; Luis and Sean are coming in ten minutes.”

  Luis was Christina’s three-month serious boyfriend. Which was really serious for Christina. Sean was his roommate that Christina perpetually tried to fix me up with. It wouldn’t happen. Not that he was a bad guy. Not really, discounting the fact that he sold bonds and constantly wanted to tell me how much money he made and what I should buy in the market that day. Plus, it didn’t help that he wanted to count my protein intake for me, either.

  “Christina.” I leaned down to take off my shoes, already tired from just thinking about an evening with Sean.

  The gas stove clicked on and then simmered as Christina put a pan of mild sauce on top. “I think you need to simmer it.”

  “What?”

  “The key to a good sauce is to simmer it. Mama always let the sauce simmer all day, but if you just give it all a good fifteen minutes, it works. Okay, chica?”

  I paused. This was another one of her things—always giving me tips on cooking this or that. But the cooking tips were really a cover for ‘the love tips.’

  I fluttered my eyes back. “Right, simmer it.”

  She let out a trigger of giggles. “Come on, chica, you need to loosen up, you and Sean could use some simmering. It would rev you up.”

  Christina was a beautician and took her calling to mean that she gave out lots of advice on hair, love, and cooking—in that order.

  “Luis seems nice for you.” I motioned to the spatula. “But I’m not simmering anything with Sean.” I snatched up a torn piece of tomatillo from the counter.

  She scrutinized my reaction. “More salt?”

  “No, it’s perfect.”

  Christina grinned. “You can’t keep eating the main dish.” She moved the plate of tomatillos. “We have company coming over.”

  I leveled her with a super glare. The fact I was anti-Christmas was a known fact. “I told you I didn’t want any parties this year. I have to get up at five-thirty tomorrow to get the store in shape.”

  After throwing her hip to the side and giving an exaggerated eye roll, Christina put her hand out in front of me. “Why do you hate Christmas?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t hate it. I just … don’t prefer it.”

  “I’ve known you for two years and haven’t seen a spark of Christmas spirit, it’s weird.”

  I sighed. “Let’s just say that I grew up in a town that went way overboard with Christmas and … I’ve just had enough.”

  She stirred the sauce. “Of the town or of Christmas?”

  I paused, not expecting the directness of the question. “I guess both.”

  She sprinkled a touch of salt into the sauce. “Hmm, so that’s why you work so much?”

  I sighed. “What can I say? I’m living the American dream.”

  “Until you take over the world?”

  I grinned. “You know I want my own store…then another store, and another.”

  The way Christina’s eyebrows furrowed, I knew she didn’t buy it. “Right, the path to success…”

  I played along, she was quoting me. “…is paved with hard work. Exactly.”

  Her very red lips sealed into a noncommittal line. “You will never be happy selling jewelry.”

  “Why?” I challenged back.

  “You are not making a difference.”

  “I’m helping with the most important events in life—marriage, anniversaries, birthdays.”


  “And you care about those events?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “Okay, fine. I like selling things. I’ve always liked marketing and selling. It’s what I do.” She had me on the defensive. “How do hairdressers make a difference?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “We counsel others. We make people beautiful. They feel better because of us.” She gave a soft smile. “We don’t just sell, sell, sell. You have to believe in something.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I believe in not having to struggle your whole life. But don’t worry, I’ll share with you.”

  She cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “So, I had this dream,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Oh, dear.” I moved away from the stove, not ready to indulge Christina in another round of ‘guess what the dream means.’ Her grandmother had taught her about the power of dreams and she would spend hours interpreting them.

  Her bracelets jiggled as she cut me off. “Madre Mia—it’s serious.”

  I stopped. The normal look of superiority on Christina’s face was gone, replaced by wide eyes and distress in the corner of her eyes.

  Annoyance stirred through me. “This better not have anything to do with Sean.”

  Instantly Christina jerked her head back and forth. “This is serious,” she said again.

  “Christina!” I had to hand it to her, her blatant fear made me unwillingly shiver. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Christina, what did you see?” I didn’t care, but I couldn’t shake this insane feeling.

  “Muerto.”

  “What?”

  Tears appeared in her eyeliner coated eyes. “I am sorry. I—I felt death. I—”

  All my patience fled. You didn’t mess with that word. “What do you mean? Am I dying?”

  She gulped back a swallow. “It’s not like that—it’s all symbols.” She put her shaky hand on my shoulder. “I—I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t have this gift, but as you know with your natural gift to sell things, we get what the Lord gives us.”

  A nervous pulse went through me. “Tell me exactly what you saw.” It wasn’t that I put a lot of stock in her dreams, but I couldn’t discount the time I’d lost the key to the store and she’d dreamed that it was at the bottom of a swimming pool. The next day I’d found it in the filled kitchen sink, left overnight.

  She pressed her fingers into the side of her head and rubbed. “I don’t know.” It came out fast. “But I also saw love. I saw death and love. True love’s kiss on Christmas Eve. ” She exhaled like she’d run a marathon.

  Okay, now it had turned stupid. And typical of her. “Have you been watching Disney Princess movies, again?” I whirled away. “You almost had me.” This was also her thing—shocking me to keep me lively and vivid.

  She laughed nervously. “I’m not being a drama queen, I really saw something that freaked me out.”

  “Whatever,” I called over my shoulder and dropped my things onto my desk, promptly forgetting Christina’s dramatics.

  “Molly!” Christina called out. “Luis said Sean really likes you. He bought you a Christmas present. You will have dinner with us, won’t you?”

  I frowned. “Can I just eat in my room?”

  “No!”

  I traded my work clothes, black skirt and fancy top, for dark jeans and a snug, green sweater. Comfort clothes. I called out. “Fine, I’ll eat, but I should be running.”

  “You run too much.”

  I almost tripped on the cord that connected the lights from the tree to the outlet in the hall. I turned back. “I hate Christmas, by the way.”

  “Feliz Navidad.” Christina sang out to me.

  I roughly brushed out my red hair. It had an autumn color to it. Natural, but no one ever thought it was. I’d had it in soft curls earlier, but the curls easily fell out, going back to my usual straight. It took a lot of product and an hour of curling to get the curls just right. I did reapply my make-up, wishing I wasn’t a slave to my stomach and could make a stand about this holiday fun we were about to have. I didn’t like to have my boycotting sabotaged.

  I worried. Christina and her ‘dream interpreting’ didn’t sit well with me.

  ***

  Two hours later, Luis and Christina sat on one side of me. They made out as ‘White Christmas’ played on the television.

  Sean lightly traced my shoulder and slid his hand down my arm. He paused.

  I pulled away from him. “Umm, I think I need to get to bed.” I stood and tried to avoid the hurt look in his eyes. It wasn’t his fault he was Luis’s sidekick and I didn’t like him as more than a friend. Honestly, he was a pretty nice guy, even if he had talked about the bonds and protein again all night.

  Christina murmured, “Night, Molly.” But didn’t break from her make out session.

  Sean stood too, flattening his tight t-shirt over his abs. “Yeah, I get that you have to get up early. Can I give you something?”

  I really didn’t have any desire to be mean to him. But, I didn’t want anything from him. Not to mention the fact I didn’t have a return present. Awkward. “S-sure.”

  He moved to the coat rack next to the door.

  I followed, ready to face the impending hurt when he realized I had nothing to give him in return.

  He unfolded a brown bag from his coat pocket and extracted a small box.

  I took a quick step back. No. No. No. This couldn’t be a ring. Nooo. There had been no kisses. Not even real hand holding. Nothing that would warrant a ring.

  He chug laughed. “It’s not that kind of ring.”

  I exhaled and reluctantly took the box.

  It wasn’t wrapped. I hesitated.

  Sean licked his lips. “I know we’re not...” His eyes averted to Luis and Christina, then back to me. “I just thought that you might need a reminder.”

  My heart sped up. “What?”

  Gingerly, he pulled the top off the box to reveal a small silver ring. “I figured since you work in a ring shop, you must like jewelry. It reminded me of the star that guided the wise men.”

  My hand hovered over it. “It’s…”

  He picked it up and held it out. “It’s a Christmas star.” He rolled his eyes and blushed. “Christina told me you hate Christmas and I noticed you seem...” He trailed. “I just thought you might need something to help you find your way.” He slipped it onto my left pinky finger.

  I was speechless, my throat tightened and I thought about the star that my father used to help me put right on top of the tree. I pushed the thought away and tried not to think about that.

  A nervous breath huffed out of Sean. “Whenever I see the star, it makes me feel like I know where I’m going. I hope it can guide you to whatever you need right now in your life. Even if that’s not me.” The side of his lip went up. “Merry Christmas, Molly.”

  Sincerity. I would give him that, but I wouldn’t say those words … Merry Christmas. Even though it felt awkward not to say them back. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 2

  After a brutal thirteen hours of managing sales attendants, customer returns, and manic gift buying, I stood in front of the computer at Hollingsworth Jewelry and got ready to shut down for the night. At least doing retail for a boutique chain had its perks—we closed at seven.

  My phone buzzed and I picked it up, expecting it to be Christina.

  My mother’s number.

  I hesitated and then pushed ignore, guilt pressing down on me. I would call her after I got off work. She’d been bugging me to come home for Christmas this year, even offered to pay for my flight, which I knew they couldn’t afford, not with everything on the ranch this year. But, I couldn’t. It’d been hard not to go back to Snow Valley when I’d first left, but now it wasn’t hard at all. The letter flashed into my mind. The one I’d found in my parents' attic. The letter that had finalized my decision to leave.

  The shop door dinged. Even though my cheeks ached from fake smiling all day,
I pasted my smile into place without looking up. “Happy holidays, how can I help you?”

  “Molly O’Hare!”

  The voice was loud, boisterous, and completely in command, Bob Hollingsworth. President of Hollingsworth Jewelry.

  All thoughts of guilt fled. I pushed my shoulders back and hurriedly slipped back into my ‘too tall’ heels. “Hello, Mr. Hollingsworth.”

  Usually this ‘Mr. Hollingsworth’ didn’t come down to the store. Stan, his son, was the store manager. Nervous jitters went through me as he sauntered over to the counter next to the computer, lovingly running his hand over the glass that encased the diamond rings. “No need to put the shoes back on.” He grinned. “Tell me we’re up in sales. Tell it to me, Molly!”

  I pushed away the jitters and tapped on the sales screen and compared it to the day before. “Up by two-thousand dollars, sir.”

  Mr. Hollingsworth grinned, fiddling with his string tie with Texas horns that held it into place. The horns were important to him, as he’d told me on more than one occasion. He grinned, his yellow, tobacco-stained teeth hammering a warning of death through hard living, into my gut.

  “I’ll be.” He clicked his tongue. “You’ve done it, again, Molly. Your ad campaign has given us the edge on the competition.”

  I relaxed and gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir.” Bob Hollingsworth didn’t want a lot of talk out of me. He would do the talking.

  He leaned across the counter and peeked at the spreadsheet on the computer. “I told my son that you could do this job. I think women have a softer touch.” He paused. “A touch that, in today’s market, we need. Especially since women can reach other women.” He winked and did a fake gun trigger at me. “They can get men to open up their checkbooks.”

  I really loved the Hollingsworth family. Even if Bob was very old school when it came to men and women’s roles in life. They’d been good to me, immediately taking me in when I’d come to Colorado looking for a new life. Hardly any money to my name, with no set plan on how I would ‘make it big’, Stan had hired me on the spot. It helped that the Hollingsworth Empire was growing and they wanted people to buy the franchise and expand. I almost had enough for the buy in.