Eggnog and Candy Canes: A Blueberry Springs Christmas Novella by Jean Oram Read Free Book Online

snowflakes were falling. There was already a foot on the sidewalks. With a grin, she smoothed her ponytail. If this snow kept up, she’d be stuck at work overnight. Not something most people wished for on Christmas Day, when there was a delicious turkey waiting for them after work. But then again, most people didn’t have a mother who had gone nutso for the holidays and had terrified them with so many decorations their head spun like a pinwheel just thinking about it.
    Her mom had called at 5:00 a.m. to ensure Katie could find her Christmas cardigan—which she was to wear over her Christmas-themed scrubs, which were to go over her holly turtleneck, which was, of course, over her—yes, her mother went that far—mistletoe lingerie. Not to mention the Santa socks, the light-up Christmas tree earrings, the jingle bell hair elastic, and Rudolph pin complete with a blinking nose.
    Katie was ready to jump in a snowbank and hope for an avalanche rather than face her mother and yet more holiday cheer. Or admit to anyone that she had, in fact, dressed herself this morning.
    What would her mom do tomorrow when Christmas was officially over? Would she go into a deep depression as withdrawal set in? Or would she start planning how she could make next year even bigger and better? Possibly, Katie might slip her a sleeping pill, as the woman had to be exhausted by now.
    Turning away from the falling snow that was morphing the parked cars in the lot into hibernating bear humps, Katie moseyed down the quiet halls to the nursing station. Most patients who could be released had gone home to spend the holidays with their families. The rest would likely be having company later on tonight, assuming the roads were still passable.
    Humming “Jingle Bells,” Katie rounded a corner and bumped into Nash. She flicked his tie, which sported snowflakes. “All these flakes look suspiciously alike.”
    He smiled and smoothed his tie back into place under his doctor’s coat before she could adjust it for him. “How’s the weather looking?”
    “I think we may end up stuck here for the night. The wind is expected to kick up as well.”
    Nash leaned against the wall to study her. “You truly are happy to be stuck here?”
    “I am.”
    “Is it because I’ll be here?” he teased. “Or are you trying to get out of your Christmas dinner invitation?”
    Katie tried to ignore the blush that stole across her cheeks, burning a trail. “Or maybe because I get to avoid an even larger production than you witnessed at Chez Reiter last night.”
    “French?”
    “I do believe my accent is better than yours.”
    “That was not how you say Louboutin,” he said with a thick French accent, resurrecting an old battle.
    She moved closer. “I do believe it is.”
    “And have you ever been to France?”
    “Have you ever taken me?” she retorted.
    He leaned in, his lips almost touching hers. “Do you want me to?”
    “You could take me anywhere.”
    Oh, man. What was she doing? She was practically begging Nash to take her to bed. In France. Definitely not in the day planner. Not that one.
    But it should be. Someone hand her a pencil. No, make that a permanent marker.
    “Really?” he asked, his voice low. He still wasn’t touching her, kissing her. But desire flashed in his icy eyes.
    He would be good in bed, she thought. All that fire. It would translate into hot, sweaty sex for sure.
    Trey, a teen who worked in the hardware store and had picked up a few housekeeping shifts at the hospital over the holidays, tore by, his slushy boots squeaking, chunks of damp snow falling off his coat. He dangled a plastic piece of mistletoe over Nash and Katie, stretching to do so.
    “Kiss! You’re under the mistletoe.”
    They didn’t need prompting. Nash’s arms—surprisingly strong—tugged her tight against his body. Katie pressed her palms to his chest, unsure whether she should push him off with a laugh or perform a tonsil check with her tongue. There was a