Free Kissing Under The Mistletoe: The Sullivans (Contemporary Romance) by Bella Andre Page B

she told Jack, “Girls learn early in my town
how to walk in heels on cobblestone streets without tripping. And
once that flirting turns into something more, every couple in town
marries in our church. As a little girl I would watch the beautiful
women in their handmade wedding gowns. My mother made those gowns,
and I used to help her even though I wasn't nearly as good a
seamstress as she was.” Making herself focus on the other memories
that were coming at her one after the other, she told him, “I used
to love to watch the mustard grass bloom in the spring, the grapes
growing plump in the summer, the vineyards turning color in the
autumn. And Christmas was a time for celebration like none I’ve
ever seen anywhere else.”
    Realizing she was rambling, Mary stopped
herself with a laugh that was a little bit hollow from speaking
about her mother. “See, here I go acting like a travel agent, just
like I said I would.”
    “I could never tire of hearing you talk about
something that you love.”
    He was right, she realized. Regardless of
what had happened between her and her mother, Mary only ever looked
back on her childhood, and the people who had made it so special,
with love.
    Just as she had when she’d been speaking of
home in the diner the night before and emotion had threatened to
overwhelm her, she tried to dismiss it with a joke. “Next thing you
know, I’ll have you on a plane to Italy with an itinerary of the
best secret spots that no other tourist knows about.”
    “I’d like that,” he said, and she could
suddenly see it so clearly, the two of them holding hands as they
flew across the Atlantic. She’d never taken a lover to her country,
had never stolen a kiss with someone in a shadowed alley that had
been there since medieval times while the bells of the church
chimed above them.
    “Has your hometown changed much from when you
were nineteen?”
    Mary slowly stirred their espresso with a
spoon in the pot before pouring it into two espresso cups. Coming
to sit beside Jack on a bar stool, she said, “I don’t know.”
    He stopped with the cup halfway to his lips.
“You don’t?”
    “No, I haven’t been back.”
    She had never spoken about her family
situation with anyone outside her closest circle of friends and
confidants. A voice in the back of her head reminded her that it
wasn’t wise to reveal so much to Jack when they had met only a day
ago. Still, when he lowered his cup and reached for her hands, his
touch warmed her better than any cup of coffee could have.
    “I truly loved my family, my friends, my
town, but I always knew I was different. Because when everyone else
was dreaming of wedding rings and babies, I was dreaming of
adventures and airplanes. My father understood, and he would tell
me about the places he’d seen in the war. But my mother—”
    When she grew silent, Jack gently ran the
pads of his thumbs over the backs of her hands. As always, there
was a deep sensuality to his touch, but tonight she was more aware
of the empathy in the gesture.
    “Your mother wanted you to stay.”
    Mary nodded. “I was all she had, her only
child. And she was afraid for me, afraid that I’d be hurt. I
understand it better now that I’m watching over girls who are the
same age I was when I told her I’d met an agent who wanted to make
me a big star in New York City. I was so naive,” she said with a
laugh. “And very lucky that Randy—the talent scout—was honest and
legitimate.”
    “That’s why you look out for the girls when
you could be living the high life in a penthouse. You want to make
sure they make it home to their mothers safe and sound.”
    “Yes, and I’m not much for penthouse heights,
either,” she confessed. Though he smiled, she knew he hadn’t missed
the fact that she’d left out part of her explanation. “My mother
was angry with me for being headstrong and foolish. I was angry
with her for being stubborn and determined. We both said things we
didn’t