Terri Reed - Murder Under The Mistletoe

* * *

The next morning dawned with a cloudless blue sky bathing the living room in soft light. Heather rubbed her stiff neck and glanced at the time on her phone. Early still. The farm employees wouldn’t start their day for another couple of hours. Good. She needed some time to figure out how she was going to explain why she’d formed a partnership. She’d just buried her brother.

The thought brought the ache of loss to the forefront of her mind, diminishing the physical pain of stiff muscles from falling asleep sitting upright on the couch, her feet tucked beneath her. With a little start, she realized Tyler had spread the blanket that had hung on the back of the couch over her while she slept.

She was touched by Tyler’s thoughtfulness, and her gaze landed on the man sleeping in the chair across the room. After the second menacing phone call, he’d double-checked that all the windows and doors were locked. He’d taken her rolling pin and placed it into the channel of the windowsill in Seth’s room, saying the window would be too easy to jimmy open.

Now his eyes were closed, his legs spread out in front of him and his arms hugged a pillow to his chest like a favored toy. For some reason the sight stirred something inside her, something she hadn’t felt in a long time and refused to feel now. Not for this man. Not for any man. She’d had her one true love.

In the light of day, Tyler was even more of a presence than he’d been last night. His day’s growth of beard darkened his jaw, emphasizing the contours of his face. Dark circles rimmed his eyes beneath the splay of long lashes resting against his cheeks.

Despite her anger at Agent Tyler Griffin, she appreciated that he accepted the responsibility for her brother’s murder. He didn’t make excuses, but he’d pushed her brother to risk his life, a means to an end. He’d put his mission before her brother’s safety.

Ken had been like that. Quick to assume responsibility. Always putting the military before his family. She hated the little whisper of bitterness that floated at the edges of her mind. She’d admired Ken’s dedication at first but came to resent it in time.

It had been five years since he’d left on that final mission, promising to return soon. And not a moment went by when she didn’t hope there’d been some mistake and he’d come home to her and Colin.

Ken had been the love of her life. She doubted she’d ever find anyone she could love like that again. The thought filled her with a stinging emptiness.

One of Tyler’s eyes popped open. Caught staring, she felt a heated flush creep up her neck. She took that as her cue to stand and divert her attention, which was hard to do considering every fiber of her being was aware of the man stirring in the chair. Plus the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was interested in him in any way.

The sooner they found Seth’s journal, the quicker Tyler would be gone from her life and she could grieve in peace without worrying about drug lords and murderers.

Tyler sat up and tucked his sidearm back into its holster. He met her gaze. “G’morning.”

“Morning,” she replied and stretched out the kinks from the awkward position she’d maintained through the night. She went to the front window and pulled the curtains back all the way. The view of the acres of trees stretching out in all directions usually brought her a nostalgic sense of pride. This morning however, she felt only anxious.

Someone living on the farm had probably killed her brother.

And threatened her.

Who?

She clenched her fists at her sides. A sense of betrayal wrapped around her, making her pulse pound.

The quick footsteps of her son racing down the stairs forced back the tide of anger. She rounded the couch and caught him in her arms.

Lifting him high, she said, “Whoa, slow down, little man.”

He stared at her with frightened eyes. “You weren’t in your room.”

She hugged him to her chest, sensing his unspoken fear that she, too, would go away. “I’m right here, buddy.”

Colin pulled back and leaned to peer around her shoulder. “Good morning, Mr. Tyler. Are you having breakfast with us?” Colin asked.

Heather’s heart hiccupped. Her son was so accepting, so trusting. She prayed he never lost that ability.

“Not today, buddy. But thank you for asking me.”

Heather met Tyler’s gaze. He clearly wanted to talk to her. She ruffled Colin’s hair. “How about pancakes?”

Colin let out a whoop. “Pancakes!”

The second she set him on his feet, he was off at a mad dash to the dining room. The sound of a chair being dragged across the hardwood floor to the kitchen counter filled the house. A cupboard banged open. She tensed, hoping the glass bowl she imagined Colin reaching for didn’t slip from his hands and break on the counter.

Tyler came to stand beside her. Her senses flared as waves of heat coming off him warmed her chilled limbs.

“I take it pancakes are a special treat?”

Tyler’s low voice washed over her, making her pulse spike. Uncomfortable with her reaction to him, she stepped away. “Yes. Pancakes are a special treat.”

One corner of Tyler’s mouth curved upward, making him look boyish and roguish at the same time. “I’d love a rain check.”

Words stuck in her throat. She nodded.

“I’m going to retrieve my truck,” he said, keeping his voice low so Colin wouldn’t hear him, which she appreciated. “I left it out on the shoulder of Johnstone Lane. I’ll return with my colleagues Blake and Nathanial.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” she replied. “We’ll be okay.” She hoped.

“Let me program my number into your phone,” he said. “Just in case. The guys aren’t staying far away. We’ll be back within the hour.”

As she watched him punching his numbers into her phone, she had the strangest urge to plead with him not to go. She lifted her chin in determination. She would not let fear rule her life.

* * *

Tyler hesitated, suddenly loath to leave Heather and Colin, even for as long as it would take him to get his truck, go to the motel to retrieve his travel bag and the guys and then drive back here. He had a sneaking suspicion that the reason he didn’t want to leave was much more complex than he wanted to admit.

This whole assignment had become extremely unpredictable. Heather and her son were distractions he couldn’t afford, yet he had to stick close. To protect them.

Yeah, that was right. Wanting to stick close to the stunning widow had nothing to do with the fact he found Heather appealing.

He couldn’t forget his primary objective was to bring down the drug ring and discover the identity of the mastermind. Not yearn for the dark-haired beauty.

Stalling, he found the restroom and freshened up as much as he could. But he wished he had his to-go bag handy. The stubble on his face itched. He stepped into the living room and made a decision.

Making sure his sidearm was concealed beneath his shirt, he entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks. Colin stood on a chair pushed up to the counter. Heather was pouring milk into the measuring cup Colin held over a large bowl. The domestic scene looked like something one would see in a greeting card. Tenderness flooded his system.

“That’s enough, Mommy,” Colin exclaimed, then dumped the milk into the bowl.

Heather set the milk carton aside and handed him an egg. “You remember how to crack this?”

“Yes, I can do it myself,” Colin insisted, snatching the egg from her hand.

Heather met Tyler’s gaze over Colin’s head. “Honey, I’ll be right back. Try not to let any of the shells get into the mix.”

Heather moved to stand in front of Tyler. She’d tied her dark hair back with a ribbon. White flour dusted her cheek. She looked so pretty and so fragile. The oversize sweats she wore hid her feminine form, but her beauty went deeper than her skin. It was in the gentle way she related to her son, in the way she’d taken care of Tyler’s injury. An injury she’d inflicted out of fear and the need to protect her child.