No Mistletoe Required Read online

  “Hey, Betty.” She smiled at the older woman wearing reindeer antlers on her head and manning the cash register. “How goes it?”

  The woman smiled back. “Anna, sweetie. You know how it goes. Here for the cooler?”

  “That I am. Is it ready?”

  “Sure is. And if I’m not mistaken, they slipped some treats in there for you volunteers too.”

  “Fantastic. Thanks, Betty.” She angled her head to Dan. “Back here. With the thing full of ice and drinks, I’m definitely going to need a hand.” He followed silently, no surprise there. But when she went to grab one of the handles, he just stepped in front and hefted the entire cooler himself.

  “Uh, that’s going to get heavy, and we’re on the other side of the hospital,” she cautioned. Though really, watching a good-looking, strong guy hefting around a big object wasn’t a hardship. The cuffs of his short-sleeved polo cut across his biceps as they flexed with the weight. She had an unholy urge to trace one fingertip over the skin right there next to the cotton.

  “It’s fine. I’m not going to fall over. Just lead me back. This place is a maze.”

  “It’s not too hard once you get the hang of it. Thanks, Betty!” She waved as they pushed back through the doors.

  “Spend much time here?”

  So he was talking freely, which was an improvement. But really not the best topic. In the most neutral voice she could manage, she said, “The Kappas have been doing the Santa’s Workshop project for a few years now.” Total truth, and she’d been with them every year since they started.

  Her intimate knowledge of the hospital really wasn’t up for discussion.

  He stopped to adjust his grip on the cooler handles.

  “Are you sure you don’t want help?”

  He scoffed and kept walking. “No offense, but you’re kind of not much bigger than the cooler yourself.”

  “No offense taken,” she chirped. She was short. Small. Petite. Vertically challenged. However you put it, she was barely five feet, and she knew it. People tended to underestimate her strength and abilities, and that was annoying more often than not. But with a he-man by her side ready and willing to do the heavy lifting himself, she wasn’t going to say no.

  Mama didn’t raise no fool.

  She breathed in and closed her eyes for a moment on a sigh. “Christmas just smells different, don’t you think?”

  “All I smell is antiseptic mixed with what you get when you open a new box of bandages.”

  She stopped and stared at him. He could not seriously be this Grinchtastic. “Come on. Really? Is there nothing about the holiday you like?”

  He thought about that for a second. “Paid vacation time.”

  She tossed her hands in the air and kept walking. “I give up. I tried to cajole you into the holiday spirit and you refuse to be budged. Is your heart three sizes too small?”

  “Something’s not too small,” he muttered.

  “What?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.

  “Nothing. Look, some people just don’t get into the holiday thing. I’m one of them. I don’t need an intervention.”

  “Why volunteer for the project then, if you aren’t into the meaning behind it?”

  “Friday off from work?” he asked with a shrug as he waited for her to push open the door to the rec room.

  Instead, she paused, looking at him. “No, I don’t believe that’s true. I think if you wanted a Friday off, you’d just take it. Instead, you’re giving up your entire weekend to finish this project.”

  “I told you, Geoff signed me up.”

  “But you’re still here. You could have walked away and the rest of us would have been none the wiser. You stayed.”

  A slow smile crept across her face, one she didn’t bother to hold back. “I think there’s still a little bit of you that wants to get into the holiday. And you won’t, for whatever reason.”

  “Nope. Open the door.”

  She did then, smiling to herself again. Dan the Grinch was definitely not as grinchy as he wanted people to believe. And he was hot enough for her to admit she was attracted. Those two elements combined made up her mind.

  “I’m bringing you to the dark side.”

  “No. Please don’t.” He stood, cooler still in his hands, looking at her with a horrified expression. It was actually comical how terrified he looked.

  She nodded. “Yup. Resign yourself. Before the weekend is over, you’re going to be humming carols and decking the halls.”

  He let the cooler thump to the ground. Not taking his eyes off her, he called, “Drinks are here.”

  People rushed to them, and she had to step away and break eye contact to avoid being trampled. She saw him walking back over to the platform construction area, as if the conversation had never happened.

  She glanced once more at his butt as he squatted down to see the mess Geoff had made in his absence. Yeah. He was freaking cute. And a little holiday fling might be just the thing.

  Chapter Two

  Dan threw everything he had into finishing the platform as fast as possible. The sooner the project was done, the sooner he could escape the consistent sound of off-key sorority chicks singing carols—most of which they only knew half the words to. It shouldn’t annoy him as much as it did. But that was his problem, not theirs.

  And the true problem, if he was being honest with himself—which he tried to do, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear—was that the carols didn’t bother him half as much as Anna did. His eyes tracked her around the room involuntarily, as if he couldn’t help it. He’d glance up to find the clock on the wall, and she would be standing right under it. Turning his head to answer a question Geoff asked, she’d be over the line of his friend’s shoulder, in plain sight. He’d walk to the cooler to grab a drink, and she’d be behind him in line, cup in hand.

  If she were another female, even another of the sorority sisters, he’d think she was doing it on purpose. But he could already tell, just from the ten hours they’d spent in the rec room, that Anna wasn’t some flighty female who wanted to play mind games. Or someone who would waste precious time flirting when she could be working. She was serious about getting the Workshop set up and ready to go as soon as possible.

  And damn if that didn’t make him just want to watch her a little more. He smiled while she ordered around a group of guys who were shooting the breeze instead of securing the massive fake tree. She was like a miniature pinscher. One who hadn’t gotten the memo that it was of the miniature variety.

  “Dan?”

  Speak of the devil. He set his hammer down carefully and glanced over his shoulder. “Yup?”

  She waved her clipboard at him, papers fanning in the breeze. “I’m just making sure everything’s cleaned up for the evening. Can you help me bring the cooler back to the cafeteria?”

  “No problem.” He could send Geoff, but the guy would likely try to find a supply closet along the way and grab an innocent kiss, getting slapped—or sued—in the process. Saving Geoff from himself was an almost daily job.

  He hefted up the cooler—much lighter now without the drinks and ice—and said, “I remember the way. You don’t have to walk with me.”

  “But I signed the cooler out, so I’ve got to sign it back in.” Anna held the door open wide for him.

  They walked a few minutes, the halls almost eerily empty now compared to the busier tempo from the early afternoon. “Quiet now.”

  “Visiting hours are over. Less people in the building.”

  She said it so confidently, like she knew the hours personally. “You’ve been volunteering for four years, you said?”

  “Hmm. Yup.” She scribbled something on her clipboard, took a turn without even looking up. “Kappas started helping out four years ago, and I’ve been with them every year.”

  Four years with the Kappas. It only reaffirmed his belief that she was a senior. But still off-limits. You’re not getting into something with someone n
early ten years younger than you. And a Christmas nut, to boot. Back off. “When did the actual Santa’s Workshop program start?”

  “Four years ago.” She gave him a smile then, as if warming up to the whole topic. “We pitched the idea to the director ourselves. It was a huge project the first year, and I’m afraid a lot more low-key with a ton of mistakes. Big learning curve. But each year it’s gotten steadily bigger, especially now that we recruit outside help. Normally we ask the Sigmas help. Our brother fraternity,” she added. “But they got roped into another philanthropy project at the last minute from their national chapter and couldn’t spare any guys. So we sent out feelers for volunteers and...well, obviously you know, since that’s where you came in.”

  They reached the cafeteria and she signed the cooler back in, saying hello to the cashier—not Betty this time, but another older lady, this time wearing a Santa hat—before they took off back to the rec room.

  As they passed by one hallway, she trailed her fingers down the artwork that some kids, he assumed patients themselves, had drawn and put up on display. Pictures of stick figure Santas with cotton balls for snow, boxes with shiny bows glued on. A few brown blobs with sticks coming out of them, which he assumed were reindeer. And elves galore.

  “It’s an exhausting weekend to set up, and then keep the Workshop running until Christmas. I wish we could set it up sooner in the month. The hospital just can’t spare the space until now. But it’s so worth it for them.” Her voice was quiet, almost lost in the hum of the heating. “The little ones can’t seem to comprehend how Santa will get to them without a chimney in the hospital. The older ones get it, of course. They tend to grow up faster in here. Almost a requirement, dealing with things like surgeries, painful treatments...the possibility of dying. But even though they know it’s not real, their eyes light up all the same when they get wheeled into the rec room. And they might deny it, or play it off as so not cool. But they soak in the magic of that moment like sponges, as if it’s going to last them for the whole year. Like they could live on memory alone, that they just want to make it for another year. Experience it again.”

  The doors to the rec room loomed in front of them, but he didn’t want her to stop talking. Her voice was soothing, and though kids confused the hell out of him, she painted the picture almost perfectly in his head, the pure joy that any kid would feel stepping into a winter wonderland. Probably only that much more important if you were sick, maybe not going to see another Christmas.

  Kind of like his family. Only they hadn’t had the warning. One evening, he was being tucked into bed by his parents, hearing them say Santa would be here while he slept, secure in his home and his parents’ love for him. The next day, he was an orphan with a broken leg and no idea why Christmas meant losing the people he loved most in the world.

  But he wanted to wipe the sadness from both their minds, replace it with something happier. “I think it’s a fantastic thing. Giving them the memory.” Even if he didn’t dig the holiday.

  She brightened then. “Thanks. I agree.” She pushed open the door, then just stepped to the side, hands on hips, and observed. Then she gave a satisfied sigh. Like something he could hear in a bedroom and know he’d done his job pretty damn well.

  No. Definitely not the direction his mind should be creeping toward. No, no, no.

  He stood with her, for the first time taking it in. His mind had been so tunneled on his one specific project of building the platform that so far he hadn’t looked at the big picture. The full effect of the work that had buzzed around him all day.

  It was a freaking mess.

  Anna sighed a happy sigh. “Looks fantastic.”

  He raised a brow and looked down—way down—at her. But she only shook her head. “You’re not looking at the big picture. You work in details, right? What kind of lawyer are you?”

  “Divorce...” Where was she going with this?

  “Well, no wonder. All your mind is trained to see is the fact that things are not exactly right. You immediately see what’s broken. You see the mess.” She smiled. “I see the possibilities. I see that this might be the best year yet.”

  She looked so pleased with herself, with the whole way things were going, that he couldn’t help but smile too. But he didn’t want to smile at her.

  Yeah, she seemed mature for a college student. And he couldn’t help but appreciate her dedication to a worthy project—despite his own reservations about the holiday.

  But she was just too young. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

  Geoff would rationalize that anything over eighteen was fair game for the night. Dan just couldn’t see it working. Not that he was big on flings anyway.

  “Feeling more in the spirit?”

  He glanced down once more. She was grinning up at him, excitement clear, and he hated to disappoint her. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  She lightly pounded on his chest with her fist. He fought the urge to grab her wrist and show her just where she could put that hand. “I’m going to make a Christmas convert out of you yet.”

  “Don’t put your hopes on it.”

  She stood, face tilted up at his, fist still on his chest. Then her lips curved into a sly smile. “I just don’t know how I can be attracted to a guy who is so against my favorite holiday. Defies nature, really.”

  Okay. That was definitely not what he wanted to hear. His gut screamed I’ll let you keep trying to convert me. Is there a naked portion of the program? I like that idea. But his mind had him saying, “Look...”

  Her eyes, which were so bright only a second ago, clouded. Her hand dropped and she rocked back on her heels, increasing the distance between them. It was like kicking a homeless puppy, and he almost stopped. But this was important to get out.

  “I think you’re doing a great job with all this, but the sorority thing just isn’t my deal.”

  She stared at him like he was talking in Mandarin.

  He tried again. “You know, college girls.”

  Her brows shot up. “You don’t date people who went to college?”

  “I don’t date girls who are in college.” When her face froze, he felt like an ass. “It’s just, you know, ’cause of the age...difference.”

  “Dan, my man.” Geoff appeared out of nowhere, and Dan couldn’t tell if this was a saving grace moment or the worst timing in the history of wingmen. “I was just talking to Beth here, and she suggested all the volunteers head out to pizza.”

  Dan didn’t take his eyes off of Anna’s shocked face. “I don’t think I’m up for that.”

  A sorority girl came up next to Geoff. He assumed this was the aforementioned Beth. “I think it’s a great idea. We should all relax over some pizza and beer. But then I said I had to ask our wise philanthropic advisor.”

  “Advisor?” What the hell was a philanthropic advisor, and why were they talking about this?

  “You know, someone who was in the sorority before, but graduated, and now helps out with sorority events. Our philanthropic advisor helps with our charity work. Organizing, fundraising, ideas. That sort of thing.”

  A slow smile curved over Anna’s mouth.

  “Uh-huh.” Why wasn’t she saying something?

  “So what do you say, Anna? Pizza?”

  “Anna?” He looked between Beth—who was giving him a look like he was touched in the head—and Anna, now with a very smug expression.

  “Yeah, Anna.” Beth spoke slowly, like he was a small child. “She’s been our philanthropic advisor for four years now.”

  “I started two years after I graduated from State. When I was twenty-four,” Anna added with the appearance of innocent helpfulness. But he knew better. She was teaching him a lesson.

  Didn’t take a genius to do the quick math and realize the Sarge, who he thought was twenty-one tops, was actually twenty-eight. Well within his typical dating age range.

  Nice move, dickhead.

  * * *

  She watched the realiz
ation cross his face. If it wasn’t so insulting, she’d have laughed.

  And that hurt worst of all, that she was insulted. Being as short as she was, it wasn’t uncommon to be mistaken for much younger. And long ago she’d resigned herself to not being insulted or upset by it. She would simply correct people and move on. Life was too short—pun intended—to get pissed about the small things—pun not intended.

  But the fact that Dan had thought her younger, young enough to not be interested in her, hit harder than normal.

  She crossed her arms, too annoyed with the situation to care that it was a clear defense mechanism, and felt her lips curl back in something that should have been a smile, but was more like a shark showing off its dental work. “If you’re doing the math in your head, I’ll save you the time. I’m twenty-eight.”

  “Uh-huh.” The flush creeping up his neck must have burned like hell, and he rubbed at it with his hand. “Right. Well, I mean—”

  “It’s fine, Beth,” she said, giving Dan her shoulder and facing the younger girl. “Pizza is a great way to relax. But I want one of you and the other seniors to monitor the alcohol please. Keep tabs on who’s drinking, and take their keys when they have their first glass.”

  “I know, I know.” Her tone was jokingly dismissive, but Anna knew Beth was one to trust with the task. “Don’t give the keys back until I’m sure they’re fine. Don’t risk having to fight them for the keys after they’ve been drinking.”

  “And don’t—”

  “Give beer to the underagers. Got it, Mommy.” She gave her a dazzling smile and called a quick thanks over her shoulder as she jogged across the room.

  Geoff made a snorting sound. “You really think college kids don’t drink underage?”

  She smiled, used to having this discussion. “I’m no idiot. I know they’ll drink at parties. But I don’t want my girls to drink out at regular restaurants where they might get carded and caught and have problems, especially not when they’re out on a job, representing the sorority. Plus, most parties are within walking distance. Restaurants and bars are not.”