Untangling Christmas (Silverton Sweethearts Book 3) Read online

  Bill raised a bushy, white eyebrow. “Well, you do tend to choose rather, um… colorful outfits.”

  “I know. And I plan to continue doing so until I’m forced to wear muumuus at the retirement home when I’m too old and senile to choose my own clothes.”

  Bill patted her foot again. “I hope that day never comes, honey. There’s nothing wrong with being uniquely you. Not a single thing.”

  Taylor embraced her uncle in a warm hug. “Thank you, Uncle Bill. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow when all those trees start arriving at the warehouse.”

  ****

  “Let me call him,” Brenna said, pulling her cell phone from her pocket.

  Taylor jerked it out of her hand and held it behind her back. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll figure it out. Maybe Brock can take a look later, or…”

  Brenna laughed and snatched her phone back. “I’m calling Mike. He won’t mind coming. I promise.”

  Taylor shook her head and placed her hand on Brenna’s, covering the phone. “Please, Brenna. I don’t want to bother him.”

  “Mike would want to know there’s a problem. Trust me, Taylor. He’ll fix it.” Brenna called Mike before Taylor grabbed her phone away again.

  In the three days since people had started bringing in their trees and donations for a live auction slated for the Saturday before Christmas, Taylor’s thoughts frequently drifted to the brooding, albeit hunky electrician. She missed seeing him at the warehouse and inhaling his wonderful masculine scent when he walked by.

  No matter how much she’d like to see him again, she hesitated to have Brenna call him. Fully aware of how much he disliked her, or at least disliked being around her, she didn’t want him to feel obligated to come. Since he hadn’t stopped by and returned her key via Brock, the idea that he wasn’t interested in seeing her again rang through loud and clear.

  Taylor held back a sigh when Brenna disconnected the call with a smug smile. “Mike will be here in about thirty minutes.”

  “I really wish you hadn’t bothered him,” Taylor said, working to untangle a knot in a string of lights. People all over town had donated lights. It hadn’t taken long for Taylor to decide the generous donations came about because every single strand was tangled and twisted beyond hope. She’d spent hours untangling about half of them and planned to finish the rest by the end of the week. If she wanted to implement all of her ideas for decorating the warehouse for the festival, she’d need every single strand.

  “Mike is happy to help out. If you don’t believe me, just ask him when he gets here.” Brenna fluffed a bow on the tree she’d decorated with fragrant homemade cinnamon ornaments, tiny oranges studded with cloves, and swags of red gingham ribbon.

  The tree had a colonial American appeal that had already drawn much interest. Whoever bid on it would be in for treat when they discovered an envelope among the branches for a gift card to Brenna’s bistro.

  Brenna’s mom and sister were also contributing trees to the event. Letty, Brenna’s mother, donated a flocked white tree trimmed all in silver ornaments that looked hip and trendy. It was a perfect example of the work the talented interior designer offered in her studio. Avery was waiting until the day before the auction to bring in her tree because it would feature fresh flowers from her flower shop.

  Avery’s husband, a professional landscaper, worked to create an elaborate winter garden scene in the lobby to lead people back to the big storage space in the warehouse where the trees and auction items were on display.

  Excited by the support from the community, Taylor could hardly wait for the evening of the auction just to see how beautiful everything would look.

  In the meantime, she tried to balance her other responsibilities as the director of the Silverton Foundation with overseeing the Festival of Trees.

  As the foundation’s only paid employee, her job duties included everything from answering the phone and sending out a newsletter, to spearheading events and coordinating volunteer efforts. To date, the foundation didn’t have an office. Taylor carried the foundation phone in her pocket and did most of her work from a laptop set up on Uncle Bill’s kitchen table. The arrangement worked well for her, especially when she needed to be at the house during Bill’s recovery from surgery.

  She answered three calls about the festival and one about the community canned food drive before Mike arrived. The moment he stepped behind her, she not only sensed his presence by the charged current pulsing between them, but also by the delicious smell of him.

  “Hello, Mr. Clarke. My apologies for dragging you away from your other work,” she said, smiling at him in greeting. The green plaid flannel shirt he wore not only hugged his muscled shoulders, but also accented the vibrant holly shade of his eyes.

  Disturbed by her attraction to him, Taylor glanced around for Brenna who conveniently disappeared.

  Mike cleared his throat as he studied her. She felt his perusal from the hair she’d gathered on top of her head in a messy knot, along the length of her blue and white polka-dotted dress, to the lace socks peeking out of the tops of her hiking boots.

  He pulled his gaze away from her and looked around the room. “Brenna said you had a blown fuse. Is that right?”

  “I think that’s the problem. None of the outlets on that wall will work.” Taylor pointed to a wall near the back room where the breaker box was located.

  Mike nodded. “I’m sorry, Miss Taggart. They should all be working. I tested them myself Sunday afternoon.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Clarke. I’m sure it’s a fluke you’ll easily fix.”

  Before he had the opportunity to explain flukes didn’t happen in his work, she sauntered off to greet someone arriving with a wreath to donate to the auction.

  It took Mike all of five minutes to discover the problem. Apparently, he’d been so distracted by Taylor Taggart, he’d forgotten to ground a wire. He never made mistakes like that. Not ever.

  The redheaded fruit loop had him so worked up, he could hardly think straight. Purposely staying away from the warehouse the last few days, his thoughts continually wandered to what she’d worn that day or if she’d brought her goofy dog to visit. A vision of her dancing with a garland draped around her neck would bring him up short and his crew would give him an odd look, as if he was losing his mind.

  Maybe he was.

  Losing it over a woman he swore he’d never give a second glance.

  Mike finished the repair, lambasting himself for his shoddy work, and stalked toward the door.

  With trees, wreaths, and a variety of other donations arriving, the floor space of the warehouse resembled a haphazard maze intertwined with miles of garland and balls of tangled lights.

  The second cord Mike almost tripped over made him stop and take a good look around. Someone should ensure wise utilization of the electrical outlets and oversee the number of light strands plugged together. The festival needed longer extension cords and better quality power strips. Tape or cord covers to fasten the cords to the floor wouldn’t hurt, either.

  Aware he was about to do something he’d most likely regret, he went in search of Taylor.

  He waited while she accepted a knit afghan and a crochet-trimmed set of dishtowels from Brock’s neighbors, Mrs. Hearst and Mrs. Phillips. The two old women looked nothing alike, one short and jolly, the other tall, thin and persimmon-faced, but they kept watch over Brock’s little family as though they were doting grandmothers.

  Taylor smiled and answered their questions with unwavering patience. She gave both women a warm hug and sent them on their way with peppermint puffs from a bucket-sized candy tub and a promise to see them at the festival.

  Mike stepped behind Taylor, inhaling the scent of sparkling champagne blended with summer flowers and winter spices that hung in the air around her.

  Everything in him wanted to lean close and breathe deeply of the enchanting fragrance. Instead,
he cleared his throat and took a step back.

  “Oh!” she said, startled by his appearance. Her hand rested at the base of her throat as she gaped at him with wide eyes. Lights twinkled in her pale orbs and Mike had the urge to explore what fired their depths.

  Annoyed with the direction of his thoughts, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the meandering path of trees.

  “There was a loose wire, but everything works now. I’m sorry about that.” He watched as a little girl tripped over a cord and took a few stumbling steps before righting herself. “I noticed the cords running everywhere and that’s a real safety hazard. You also need a better grade of power strips and extension cords. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d be happy to come in the evenings and help secure things. I’d hate for someone to get hurt or a bad cord to burn the place down.”

  Taylor’s eyes glittered with moisture. “Mr. Clarke, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kind offer. Thank you.” She lifted a big, bright yellow tote bag shaped like a 1950s telephone and dug inside it, pulling out the key she’d given him the previous week. Her fingers brushed his hand as she laid the key on his palm. “You take this. That way you can come and go when it is most convenient for you.”

  “Thanks, Miss Taggart. If you have any more problems with outlets not working or fuses blowing, please let me know.”

  “I will.” She nodded and turned away from him before the impulse to wrap her arms around him and kiss those full lips overcame her.

  Chapter Six

  “She’s perfectly lovely.” Brenna spoke over her son’s head as she walked between Mike and Brock up the front steps of Lewis Kingsley’s imposing home.

  Levi and Kat had invited Mike, Brock and Brenna to join them for dinner in Portland. Mike had only been to the house a few times in the months since Kat and Levi moved there, but he never failed to be impressed by the home or the man who owned it.

  “Taylor Taggart is not perfectly anything, unless you take crazy or downright strange into consideration,” Mike said, tickling little Alex beneath his chin and making the baby giggle. Alex waved mitten-covered hands, wanting Mike to hold him. He took the toddler from Brenna and bounced him on his arm. While Brock rang the bell, Mike continued their conversation. “With that red hair going every direction, bizarre outfits more suited to an enrollee of a school for psycho fashion, and her nonstop cheerfulness, I’ll tell you what Miss Taggart is — a demented pixie.”

  Brock hooted with laughter and Brenna couldn’t suppress a few giggles, but they all stood stone-faced and subdued when Kat’s grandfather swung upon the door.

  “Come in, come in,” Lewis said, motioning them inside. A crooked smile caused more wrinkles to appear on his aged face. “By all means, let me in on the joke that had you so amused when I opened the door.”

  “It was nothing, sir,” Mike said, continuing to hold Alex.

  The baby smiled and babbled in his own language, pointing to Lewis. Brock helped Brenna remove her coat while Mike pulled off Alex’s hat and mittens.

  Brenna took her son and smiled at Lewis. “How are you, sir?”

  “I’m fine, Brenna, but I’d be so much better if you’d all call me Lewis instead of sir. That sounds far too formal for the way we do things around here. Besides, I thought we’d gone over this particular topic once or twice before?”

  She nodded. “That we have. Where are Kat and Levi?”

  Lewis grinned and ushered Brenna toward the dining room down the hall as Brock and Mike followed. “Levi is on his way home from work and Kat is setting the table.”

  Kat looked up from placing the last napkin next to a gleaming plate when they walked into the dining room. “Hello, everyone! It’s so good to see you!” A few quick steps carried her around the end of the table and she hugged Brenna. She took Alex and swung him up in the air, blowing on his tummy.

  The little one laughed and flapped his hands. “Mo! Mo!”

  Brenna interpreted his baby words. “That means more, please.”

  Kat smiled and blew on the round belly again. “Happy to oblige, little man.”

  Kat placed Alex in an antique Jenny Lind high chair then handed him a cracker to gnaw on while they waited for Levi to arrive home. She welcomed Brock and Mike with hugs.

  Mike kept his arm around her shoulders. “So did my brother forget how to tell time? What’s his excuse for being late tonight?”

  Kat grinned at him. “He left early, but there was a wreck and traffic has been crawling the last hour. He phoned a few minutes before you arrived to say he was about fifteen minutes away.”

  “Good, I’m starving.” Mike studied his sister-in-law. “I wouldn’t say this to just anyone, but I think you get prettier every time I see you.”

  A becoming shade of pink tinged Kat’s cheeks. “Flattery will get you an extra serving of dessert.”

  “Aw, man, I should have buttered her up first,” Brock said, winking at Kat.

  Their lighthearted conversation continued after Levi arrived home. They took seats at the table and enjoyed the meal Lewis’ cook had prepared.

  Eventually, the discussion rolled around to the Festival of Trees and Center for Hope’s upcoming gala.

  Kat caught Levi’s eye and grinned before she stared at Mike with a thoughtful expression. “Are you bringing a date to the gala, Mike?”

  “I, um… I hadn’t planned on it.” He wiped his mouth on a linen napkin and draped it across his lap. Levi had sure come up in the world from the days when they warmed cans of beans on a hot plate. Now, his brother dined on the finest cuts of meat money could buy and ate off expensive china plates.

  “What about Taylor Taggart? She’s pretty and full of life,” Kat said, ignoring the scowl Mike shot at her. “She’d make the perfect date for you.”

  “I’m not asking that cuckoo cocoa puff. She’d probably show up dressed in an elf costume complete with the pointy-toed shoes.” Angrily, Mike jabbed at the potato on his plate and took a bite.

  “Now, now, brother dear, why don’t you give her a chance? Levi and I have met her several times. She’s genuinely kind and sweet. She seems so tireless in her work for the Silverton Foundation.”

  Begrudgingly, Mike had to agree. “She is a nice girl, and she can run circles around everyone else without taking a break, but I’m not asking her.”

  “Why not?” Levi asked, pinning his brother with a questioning look. “Who cares if she dresses with a little more flair than most people? She’s a great girl, funny and smart.”

  “A great girl?” Mike repeated with a snarl. “If Mary Poppins and the Energizer bunny had an illicit affair and produced a love child, it would be her. Taylor Taggart is the most annoyingly perky, irritatingly upbeat, take-charge, can-do person I’ve ever met! If you think I’m gonna ask her on a date, you need your head examined.”

  Even Lewis laughed at that comment. The remainder of the meal, the conversation turned to the children from Center for Hope where Levi worked, Brenna’s bistro, and happenings among their friends.

  At the end of the meal, after everyone had indulged in a piece of rich chocolate cake, Levi kissed the back of Kat’s hand and studied her face. She nodded and he glanced around the table.

  “Kat and I asked you to join us for dinner this evening because we have news to share with you all and we didn’t want to wait until Christmas.”

  Lewis set down the cup of coffee in his hand, staring at his only grandchild and living relative. “What is it? You two aren’t planning to move out and leave me rambling around this big old house alone are you?”

  “No, Gramps,” Kat hurried to assure the older man.

  Levi smiled. “In fact, Lewis, we’re hoping you won’t mind if we fill one of those empty bedrooms with a new member of the family.”

  The old man beamed while the rest of them stared at Levi and Kat in question.

  Teary-eyed, Kat beamed with joy and excitement. “We’re expecting! The due date is late June.”

  “Oh, that’s the b
est news!” Brenna hopped up and hurried around the table to hug Kat while Mike and Brock slapped Levi on the back.

  Mike gave Kat a big, brotherly hug and whispered in her ear. “I’m so happy for you two. Just remember, Uncle Mike is always around if you need him.”

  “Thank you, Mike.” Kat kissed his cheek and brushed at her tears. “I hope you’ll make a pest of yourself and visit often.”

  “You can count on it.” He gently patted her shoulder before reclaiming his seat.

  Lewis disappeared and returned with a bottle of sparkling cider. He filled glasses and passed them out. “This calls for a toast,” he said, holding out his glass. “To Kat and Levi, may your child bring you as much joy and contentment as the two of you have given me.”

  Glasses clinked as Levi smirked at his brother. “And may my brother find the courage to date a demented pixie.”

  Mike joined in the laughter but tossed his napkin at Levi.

  ****

  “It’s now or never, man.” Brock nudged Mike with his elbow as the two of them taped down an extension cord near a grouping of Christmas trees at the warehouse.

  “How about never?” Mike growled.

  “You have to ask her out. If you don’t, you’ll just prove Levi is right and you’re a coward.” Brock gave him a taunting look. “Never thought I’d see the day Mike Clarke was scared of a girl.”

  “I’m not scared of a girl. Just shut it, Brock, before I shut your big yapper for you.” Mike’s furious look coupled with a hint of warning in his eyes silenced Brock, at least for the moment.

  Aware that Brock and Levi would nag him to death if he didn’t ask Taylor on a date, Mike decided to get it over with. He held out hope she’d turn him down. After all, he was sure he wasn’t her type, if a kooky doll like her had a particular type. He tried to envision a man well suited to Taylor Taggart, but the thought of anyone else spending time with her sent a healthy dose of jealousy surging through him.

  He might not want to date her, but the idea of some other guy holding her close and tasting those luscious-looking lips of hers left him unsettled and slightly mad.