The Meaning in Mistletoe - Rachael Bloome Page 0,20

eyes twinkling, “do you think you could spare a few hours to help Jack? I’m afraid he’s a little hopeless when it comes to decor.”

Kat’s eyes widened, and she looked as surprised as he felt. “Right now?”

“If you don’t mind,” Cassie said sweetly. “I’m sure Jack would appreciate having the task off his to-do list.”

Jack opened his mouth, but no words came out. Why did this feel like a setup?

“I have to open the shop in a few minutes, anyway,” Penny added. “Maybe focusing on some other tasks for a while will refresh our brains and stimulate new ideas.”

Jack had no clue what Penny was talking about, but it seemed to mean something to Kat, alleviating some of her reticence.

“Sure,” she answered slowly, offering him a timid smile.

It was the first time they’d made eye contact since he’d approached their table, and his breath caught in his throat.

He tried to reciprocate, but the muscles in his face refused to cooperate and wound up twisting into a goofy, lopsided grin—not his finest moment.

How on earth would he get through the next few hours without making a total fool out of himself?

Or falling even harder for this woman than he already had.

Chapter 10

After they’d ensured Jack still had the arbor in storage, they headed a few miles outside of town to gather the mistletoe.

Kat still couldn’t believe she’d been roped into the excursion. Although she’d enjoyed working on the display last Christmas, spending the afternoon with Jack Gardener made her uneasy. She found him much more appealing than she wanted to admit.

Not because of his charisma—she didn’t trust charm. To be honest, she couldn’t quite pinpoint why she felt so drawn to him. She suspected it had something to do with his kind eyes—the gateway to a person’s soul, as Fern described them. They were warm and unguarded, yet she could tell he’d seen his share of pain, too. She wasn’t sure if she believed in kindred spirits, but if she did, Jack Gardener would certainly come close.

As they rattled down a dirt road, she gripped the worn handle of the passenger door, cringing as every nut and bolt in the ancient Chevy pickup seemed ready to shake loose. In hindsight, she should have driven herself. At least then she wouldn’t have been forced to sit in such close proximity, inhaling his heady scent of chicory and woodsmoke.

“Are we almost there?” she asked as they turned down an even more dilapidated lane.

No sooner than the question left her lips, she gasped as a breathtaking home came into view.

Or rather, a mansion would be more accurate. Two stories tall, the palatial Colonial-style estate boasted a grandiose front porch, stately columns, and several chimneys. There had to be dozens of rooms inside, not to mention a wing composed almost entirely of tall, elegant windows.

“What is this place?” It appeared fit for royalty except clearly no one had lived inside in decades. The white exterior paint had all but peeled away and the windows that weren’t boarded were coated in dust and grime. She almost wept to see so much beauty in such horrendous disrepair.

“It’s nothing special. Just a house no one lives in anymore,” Jack said simply, parking at the end of the circular driveway.

“Are you serious?” Kat hopped out of the truck, her eyes wide and incredulous. “It’s the most stunning home I’ve ever seen. Why would anyone leave it like this?”

Jack shrugged, striding toward the bed of the truck to unload their supplies.

Kat surveyed the neglected structure, her chest swelling with emotion. What a gut-wrenching waste! Whoever owned this property should be ashamed of themselves. Didn’t they realize some people would give anything to own a building this beautiful?

“Ready?” Jack asked, arranging a ladder between a pair of slender tree trunks.

For the first time since their arrival, Kat pried her gaze from the mournful mansion and noticed it was surrounded by towering sycamores. Though they’d lost most of their leaves, they still looked regal, their blanched bark dazzling in the afternoon sunlight. Glancing up, she noticed large bundles of mistletoe draped in their spindly branches.

“I’ll chop them down, you catch them in this.”

Their fingers grazed as he handed her a five-gallon bucket, and he made no effort to release his grip. Her breath hitched as he tilted his chin, gazing up at the mistletoe above their heads. “You know…” he drawled, his eyes glinting.

Flustered, she yanked the bucket from his grasp and blurted, “Don’t worry, this is strictly professional. I promise, I