The Meaning in Mistletoe - Rachael Bloome Page 0,65

Reed had resigned himself long ago to being perpetually single.

How could he settle down when his heart remained firmly in the past?

“Do you think they’ll give anyone else a chance under the mistletoe?” Grant chuckled, gazing at Jack and Kat canoodling under the arbor.

“I think it’s sweet.” Cassie snuggled closer to Luke, tucked into the crook of his arm.

“It’s kind of a strange tradition, when you think about it,” Colt pointed out. “Isn’t mistletoe poisonous?”

“It’s also a parasite,” Luke added. “Some of the lumber I work with comes from trees that were killed by mistletoe.”

Reed bristled on behalf of the misunderstood plant. It often got a bad rap, but as a horticulturist, he’d learned even weeds had their use. Plants—among many things in life—were rarely all good or all evil. And he often came to their defense. “While it’s poisonous to humans, many animals rely on it for sustenance,” he explained. “And early research shows an extract from the plant might be beneficial in fighting cancer.”

“Really?” Penny asked, sounding particularly intrigued by the information. “Mistletoe is quite multifaceted, isn’t it? It can mean so many different things to different people.”

“Yep.” He smiled behind the rim of his paper cup, appreciating her observation. She’d articulated one of the qualities he loved most about plants in general, especially flowers. Each one had been given a meaning. A white rose stood for innocence and purity, while a blue one, the rarest of them all, represented something wholly unique and unparalleled. And yet, each bud could also hold special meaning for specific individuals—whether it was simply someone’s favorite flower or marked an important occasion.

“Well, ten bucks says they’re next.” Colt nodded toward Jack and Kat, who still appeared lost in their own mistletoe-covered world.

“I’ll take that bet,” Penny told him. “Eliza and Grant already have their date set for the spring.”

“That didn’t stop you two from beating us to the altar,” Eliza laughed good-naturedly.

“That’s true.” Penny blushed.

“And it still didn’t come quick enough.” Colt swooped in for a kiss.

“Hey! Save it for the honeymoon,” Luke chided with a playful nudge.

“Where are you two going?” Reed asked, realizing they’d never mentioned it.

“Back to Greece,” Penny answered quickly, beaming in delight.

“Only this time, without my mom as a chaperone.” Colt grinned.

“Sounds heavenly,” Cassie said with a dreamy sigh. “Although, I’d go back to Paris in a heartbeat.”

“Me too,” Luke agreed with an affectionate smile, drawing his wife closer to his side.

As they chatted about all the places they’d traveled, Reed remained silent.

He’d only ever ventured outside of California once, on an ill-fated trip to New York City he’d rather forget. He shuddered, suppressing the unpleasant memory.

“How are the wedding plans coming along?” Penny asked Eliza.

“Slower than I’d like. There are so many little details to coordinate. I’ve always wanted a big, elaborate wedding. But I underestimated the amount of work.”

“If only we knew an event planner who could help,” Grant teased.

“Your sister lives all the way on the East Coast,” Eliza reminded him. “Not to mention, she has the busiest, most glamorous lifestyle I’ve ever seen. I doubt she’d have time in between all of her celebrity clients. Just taking time off to come home for the wedding is a huge favor.”

Reed shuffled his feet, fighting the urge to extricate himself from the conversation.

He’d tried not to think about the fact that Olivia would be returning to Poppy Creek in a few months for Grant’s wedding.

Because the only thing worse than running into the woman who’d broken your heart was seeing her on the arm of another man.

Especially a guy like Steven Rockford III.

While Reed lived in worn Levi’s with perpetual dirt stains and drove a renovated VW van, Steven wore Armani suits and had a hired car service. The two men didn’t simply reside on opposite ends of the country, they inhabited two completely different worlds.

“I’m sure she’s not that busy,” Grant assured her. “I bet she’d be happy to help. Want me to ask?”

No sooner than the question had left his lips, Grant’s mother, Harriet, pushed through the crowd, her usually composed features strained and ashen.

“What’s wrong?” Grant’s demeanor shifted the instant he spotted his mother’s worried expression.

“Have you heard from your sister?”

“No. I left a voice mail yesterday, but haven’t heard back yet.”

“That’s what concerns me. I’ve been calling nonstop the last few days. I figured she and Steven were busy with holiday plans. But she’s never not called to wish us a merry Christmas. I think something might be wrong.”

A cold dread