A Tree, Mistletoe & A Sunset

Swan Harbor Town Square

December 1

9:00 p.m.

“That’s my bra!”

It took effort, but Harper Taylor pulled her attention from the giant Christmas tree in front of her to her grandmother, “What did you say?”

“That bra,” Terri Patterson pointed to the bright red bra, size 40 DD, hanging from a branch in front of them, “is mine.”

“Grandma,” Harper tried again, “there are several bras up there. How can you be so sure?”

Her grandmother gave her a disgruntled look, her dark eyes glittering in the lights of the tree, “I may be 90, but I’m not senile. I’m going to talk to the Sheriff!”

“But,” Harper sent her best friends Rachel and Eden a ‘help me’ look, “I never said you were senile, just…” Except it was too late, her grandmother had taken off, apparently in search of the Sheriff. “Now what?”

Rachel giggled, “You either help her get her bra back or—”

“—Stay here and wait for her to return,” Eden offered.

Harper huffed with annoyance and glanced up at the lighted tree, “How did this happen?”

“The answer depends on the question,” Rachel observed. “Are you asking how your grandmother’s bra ended up on the town’s Christmas tree? Or are you asking how bras in general ended up on it?”

“Does it matter?” Harper groaned. “And we were having so much fun too.”

“I’m still having fun,” Eden smiled. “This is the first lighting in years we’ve been together.”

Harper immediately felt bad because her friend was right, “I’m sorry, Eden. I should be looking on the bright side instead of being such a downer.”

“Come on, Harper,” Eden linked their arms as they started walking, “you’re not being a downer. Things happen, and it’s okay. You look at what happened, and if it was your fault, step back and try again. That’s life.”

Harper exchanged looks with Rachel before stopping to give her attention to Eden, “That’s very pragmatic of you, but you lost me.”

Eden sighed, “No, I’m sorry. I just…”

“Saw Cameron and his wife Jessie,” Harper tossed out, knowing her friend was still embarrassed about her behavior when it came to Cameron Hunter.

“Yes.” Eden blew out a breath, “It’s just…”

“Some things are harder to push aside than others,” Harper suggested, knowing she’d brought the conversation back to herself.

“Aren’t we a fun group?” Rachel offered. “I fell for Austin, who left me pregnant before running off to join the Army. Eden fell for a man who wasn’t available.”

“And I fell for Joel,” Harper took up the story, “who was sleeping with my roommate.”

“Do you think we need therapy?” Eden’s laugh sounded strained.

Harper looked back up at the Christmas Tree. The seventy-five-foot Balsam fir stood proudly in the center of the town square decorated with lights and large colorful balls. But when the mayor had yelled, ‘flip the switch,’ the citizens had gotten an eyeful.

“You have to admit,” she murmured, her lips fighting to remain still, “whoever did the ‘decorating’ was quite creative.”

“Because they hung bras on the tree?” a confused Rachel asked.

“No,” Harper exclaimed, “because of the colors. How many drawers did they have to go through to find bras that matched the balls already hanging?”

Eden glanced at the tree before looking back at her, and her lips twitched, “There are no drawers up there.”

 Harper was taken aback for a split second, and then Eden’s joke clicked, and all three women began laughing.

“That was bad, Eden,” Harper laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

Harper’s gaze bounced over one fellow professor before landing on the one who’d spoken, “Nothing important.”

“Are you sure?” Logan Clark pushed, his sexy smirk firmly in place. “That was some laughter for it to be nothing.”

She had to fight to keep the annoyance off her face, and her gaze flew to her friends before landing on Aiden Jones. Help! But since he was so quiet, she assumed her silent plea had fallen on deaf ears.

“I—” she began, a flippant response on the tip of her tongue.

“Leave her alone, Logan,” Aiden responded, almost as if he had understood her silent plea. “Have a good evening, Doctor Taylor.” And pushed his friend up the path.

“Who was that?” Eden whispered.

“Which one?” Harper asked, watching as the men were swallowed by the crowd.

“Both.”

“They work at Swan Harbor University with me,” Harper explained. “And I’m afraid Logan, the blond,” she clarified, “is my secret match.”

Rachel frowned, “What makes you say that?”

“My latest message,” Harper told her, pulling out her phone. “See.”

Dear Rosalind,

Thank you for your message. I’m not going to say I’m the man you’re looking for because I want you to listen to your heart. And perhaps on New Year’s Eve, you can let me know.

When asked what kind of woman I’m attracted to, I’ve been hard-pressed to put it into words. Every woman has their own ‘something’ special. But I can share what I admire with you.

I admire a woman who is comfortable in her own skin. One who is loyal, not only to her family but also to her friends. One who is alright with silence and is just as interested in what I have to say as she wants me to be in what she says.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Your Secret Match,

Clark

“Sounds romantic,” Eden sighed. “But why do you think it’s from Logan—?

“—And not the dreamy dark headed one with the accent?” Rachel finished.

Harper pointed to the name, “Hello, Clark…as in Logan Clark. How unoriginal can you get?”

“But he’s gorgeous, Harper. What’s not to like?”

Harper once again looked off in the direction the men had gone and tried to put her thoughts into words. “You’re right. He’s nice to look at, but he knows it. And he talks all the time. He’s exhausting to be around. Besides, he reminds me of Joel.”

“That would do it,” Eden acknowledged.

“What about Aiden?” Rachel asked, a dreamy smile on her face. “He’s easy on the eyes and seems very sweet. In fact, I just found out he lives in my apartment complex.”

“He seems very awkward and unsure of himself,” Harper offered, thinking of his behavior the few times she’d been around him. “He makes me feel…like I need to fill the empty spaces.”

“But those few words are said in an oo la la voice,” Rachel murmured, “and he makes you feel. That’s no small feat after what Joel put you through.”

“Maybe,” Harper shrugged as if it didn’t matter, “but there are also my matches. And while I have no interest in Logan, there was something…sweet about Orlando and Rhett.”

“Wouldn’t it be romantic if—” Rachel began.

“—Harper, come with me.” Grandma Terri interrupted. “I think one of your bras was on the tree too. They need you to identify it!”

Harper sent a panicked look to her friends, “Could this night get any worse?”

***

Swan Harbor Town Square

December 1

10:00 p.m.

“You want me to do what?” Aiden sent his cousin, Killian, an annoyed look, wishing he’d left with Logan.

“Man, the box,” Killian, who was an investigator with the Sheriff’s Department, repeated.

“And why does this box need to be ‘manned’ again?” huffed Aiden.

“Because we want to find out who appropriated these.” Killian fingered one of the bra straps hanging over the edge of the box he was to ‘man.’ “And I can’t do it all.”

The innocent look on his cousin’s face had Aiden taking a step back, “And there’s no one else to take on this task?”

“Come on, Aiden,” Killian pushed. “It’s no big deal. You act like you’ve never handled ladies and their lingerie before. All you need to do is write their name and phone number with the item claimed on a piece of paper. And we’ll do the rest.”

Aiden hmphed, “All I have to do is take names and numbers?”

“Don’t forget the item information,” Killian reiterated. He picked up a bra, separating the tag, “For this after the owner’s name and number, write pink bra, size 34C.”

“Well, alright.”

“Thanks.” Killian tossed the bra back into the box and turned to go, “You know, it might be easier if you separate them all. That way, the women can just look for their size.”

Aiden watched Killian leave and wondered where he’d gone wrong. His brother, Quinn, was off chasing some new story. And his sister was back in Cornwall, researching their pirate relative. Whereas he was, “Complaining,” he muttered, pulling out a handful of bras to sort.

He fingered the colorful material gingerly, feeling much like he was privy to information not meant for him. But through trial and error, he finally developed a system that seemed to work. And had taken out the last handful when a new pile of bras was tossed onto the table, and he looked up into the laughing eyes of his other cousin.

“Bloody hell, Liam,” Aiden shouted. “What are you doing?”

Liam sent him a look that said, ‘are you daft, what does it look like I’m doing?’ “I’m, bringing you more of the colorful clothing.”

“Then ask where to put them,” Aiden grumbled. “I’m trying to sort.”

“Excuse me,” Liam quipped, moving his pile into the box. “I didn’t mean to interfere with your system.”

“Good,” Aiden grunted. “Your bloody brother asked me to help, so here I am.”

“Liam!” A petite, gray-headed woman exclaimed, running into the tent. “Killian sent me to claim my brassiere.”