Elle James - Her Christmas Hero

Besides, if they stayed in this cabin, Garrett didn’t know how much longer he could resist her. James would take him to the torture chamber if Garrett put the moves on his little girl.

“I need to take a look around and set a few pieces of equipment.” Laurel sent him a meaningful gaze. So she’d decided to work with him.

One surprise after another, this woman.

“Yay!” Molly twirled around and around. “We’re going on a picnic. We’re going on a picnic,” she repeated over and over again in a singsong voice.

She skipped around the small cabin.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Do you want to try to keep her inside all day and then get her to sleep tonight?” Garrett arched a brow.

Laurel’s gaze fell to Molly’s movements, and then she sighed. “I thought she’d grieve more,” she said. “I thought she’d be sad.” She reached into the box of staples Garrett had brought and pulled out the homemade bread, then grabbed the sandwich fixings Hondo had provided out of the small refrigerator.

“She will be. She’ll have a moment when she falls, but right now, something isn’t letting her process what happened.”

Laurel spread mustard over a piece of bread, then bent over the sink, clutching the porcelain. Her shoulders sagged. For a moment or two she fought the emotion. Everything inside Garrett made him want to hold her, comfort her, but he also knew sometimes grief needed space.

When her shoulders quivered, then shook, Garrett couldn’t stay away. He crossed the small kitchen in two steps and placed his hands on her shoulders. He bent to her ear. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

Molly entertained herself across the room. He turned Laurel in his arms. Tears streamed down her face. She buried her head against his shoulder to hide them.

“I miss Ivy. I miss my family.” Her voice had thickened with grief. Garrett rubbed her back, holding her close.

After he’d woken from the coma, alone in a hospital, with a new name, he hadn’t had time to cry. God, he’d wanted to, but there was no one left to comfort him or hold him. His family was gone.

He could hold Laurel, though. His arms wrapped tighter around her. He kept his gaze locked on Molly, who’d found an afghan and a small cardboard box and was creating a fort under a beat-up end table.

“Can she see me?” Laurel whispered, her voice thick with tears.

“She’s playing,” Garrett said.

Laurel trembled against him. Then a calmness flowed through her. She stood in his arms, soft, welcoming.

Comfort shifted to something more, something else. Something simmering beneath the surface. She cleared her throat and straightened, swiping at her wet cheeks. Through her lowered lashes, she looked up at him. “I’m okay now.”

He stroked a tear from her cheek. “You don’t have to be.”

She glanced over at Molly. “Yeah, I do.” Laurel pasted a smile on her face and strode over to Molly, hunkering down. “Whatcha doin’, Molly Magoo? Can I come in your fort?”

Garrett turned back to the half-made picnic lunch, thankful Laurel had crossed the room. She and Molly had reawakened his emotions, emotions he couldn’t afford to have.

He’d gone against his best instincts when he’d fallen in love with Lisa seven years ago. James had warned him, had told him that there would be secrets he could never tell his wife, lies he’d be forced to live. He’d even said there was a remote chance of danger from the enemy.

The enemy wasn’t who’d gotten him... He’d been framed by one of his own. Of that he was certain.

He snagged some bottled water and a juice box from the refrigerator, completing their lunch. “Ready, ladies?” he called out.

Molly scooted from under the blanket and ran across the room. She peered into the makeshift picnic basket Garrett had created using a box. “Cookies?” She blinked up at him, those baby blues innocent and hopeful.

“What’s a picnic without Hondo’s cookies?” Garrett said. “Can you take this?” he asked Laurel. She grasped the box and he strode into his room. He unlocked the closet and entered a combination into a hidden safe. Quickly, he pulled out his dad’s Remington.

He walked over to her. She tugged the box closer. “I’ll take this. I like your hands free. In case the big kitty shows up again.”

They walked out of the ranch house. The midday sun shone through a bright blue sky. Laurel gazed up. “I’ve never seen a color like that before.”

“Welcome to the desert,” Garrett said. “A little different from the East Coast, huh?”

“Considering they started today getting doused in snow, I’d say yes.”

Molly bent over and picked up a pinecone. “Ooh. Sticky,” she said, dropping it. She skipped around Garrett and Laurel, then ran a bit ahead.

“Molly,” Garrett said with a warning tone.

She stopped and turned. “Sorry.” She bowed her head and kicked a small rock.

“Just let me go first when we come to a thicket of trees,” he said.

“What’s a thicket?”

“A big group. Like right here.”

Garrett stepped into a small grove. He bent down. “See where the winter grass is bent over? An animal slept here sometime last night or this morning.”

He looked around and knelt beside a few tracks, two teardrops side by side. “Deer, probably mule deer in these parts.”

Molly crouched beside him. “You can tell that?”

“Everything and everyone makes its mark.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “Most everything can be traced or tracked. No one is invisible.”

“My job was to analyze data from sources no one can imagine,” Laurel said. “I know it’s difficult to hide. But not impossible.”

“Fair.” Garrett stood. “But if it were easy to hide, Ivy would never have found me at all.”

The admission didn’t come easy, but Laurel needed to understand how difficult her life was about to become.

“There’s a small pool nearby. We’ve had some rain this year, so it might be full.”

They climbed over some more craggy rocks to a granite outcropping. The sun had warmed the rock, and below, a large pool of water glistened in the light.

“Just the place for our picnic.”

He looked at the surroundings. Safe, and it was clear enough that he had a view where he could see anyone coming.

“Not exactly rolling hills,” Laurel said, sitting down with the small box holding their lunch.

“I want to sit by here,” Molly said, pointing at a small, flat rock.

“Just your size,” Garrett said.

“Nothing rolling or quaint about West Texas,” Garrett offered, pulling the sandwiches from the bag.

“It’s dramatic,” she admitted. “You can see forever.”

“I like this spot. I come here sometimes. To think. Nothing small about this land. About seventy-six miles that way is the border with Mexico. North fifty miles and you’re in New Mexico. On a clear day like today, you can see one hundred and fifty miles. Can’t do that on the coast.” He handed Molly a juice box.

“You miss D.C.?”

Garrett bit into his sandwich, swallowing past the lump in his throat, and considered his answer. “I miss the life I had.” He missed his family. Every day. He no longer wanted to die along with them. The need for revenge made a body fight. Just to make the guilty pay.

Laurel’s gaze fell to Molly. “I understand that. Going back will never be the same, will it?”

“Nothing is ever the same.”

Molly crossed her legs and gazed into the water. “Can I touch it?”

“It’s cold,” Garrett warned.

Molly tiptoed to the edge of the pool, squatted in front of it and dipped her hand into the water. She snatched it back with a yelp.

“I’m not swimming in there.” She raced back to Laurel and hugged her legs. “Too cold.”