Love, Lies and Mistletoe

He sighed and turned to lean against the counter. He’d leave and go someplace else, but the fact was there was nowhere else. No pizza places within a ten-mile radius, no sub sandwich chain stores, no familiar coffee shops...just Joey’s Diner. God, he missed the city.

He spotted Heather sitting alone at the corner booth near the window, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then headed toward her.

She had a laptop open on the table and was typing furiously with one hand, while eating—eggs Benedict, of course—with the other.

“That’s quite the talent,” he said.

“Lucky for me, I’m ambidextrous,” she said with a quick glance in his direction.

“Well, I can see that you’re busy, but if I promise to be quiet, can I share your table?”

She looked surprised when she finally gave him her attention. “You always eat alone.”

“And I would today, but all the tables are full, including the bar stools.”

“So you only want to eat with me because there’s nowhere else to sit?”

“Exactly.”

“Charming.”

“Honest.”

She laughed and gestured for him to be her guest. “Go ahead.”

He slid into the booth. “Look, if it makes you feel better—if I have to sit with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Heather’s expression was one of amusement as she said, “Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“Yes. You’re probably the only person in Brookhollow that I can actually tolerate.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tucked it next to him on the seat.

“Tolerate? Wow. Anyway, you promised not to talk, so shhh, I have five minutes to finish this,” she said, resuming her typing.

Jacob silently nodded and leaned back against the cushioned booth. He attempted to flag Tina for coffee as she passed, but she ignored him. “If only the food wasn’t so good around here,” he mumbled.

“You’re talking.”

“Sorry.” He stared out the window for a long moment, then he said, “What are you doing, anyway?”

She cocked her head as she glanced over the top of the computer. “You barely talk to anyone around here, unless it’s to yell at them about a hazardous front step or something, and now you can’t shut up?”

“I don’t yell. I ask. They ignore. So, what are you working on?”

“A résumé,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Don’t you already have two jobs in town?”

“It’s for a job in New York.”

“What kind of job?”

“One I won’t get if I don’t send this. Hold on,” she said, typing a few more things.

He watched her lips move as she scanned the screen in front of her.

Cute.

In fact, if he allowed himself the opportunity to look, she was cute. Long, dark hair that once again smelled like peppermint and waved around her shoulders beneath the purple hat she wore. Her hazel eyes had flecks of gold around the center that resembled a starburst, and her long, thin neck was exposed beneath her slightly open scarf.

“What’s with the hat and scarf inside?” It was like eighty degrees inside the crowded diner.

“I’m always cold,” she said, closing her laptop.

“Done?” he asked.

“Yes.” She gathered her things and stood, sliding her arms into her jacket.

“You’re leaving?”

Reaching for her coffee cup, she drained the contents. “Yes. You already said you just wanted my table.”

“But you were going to tell me about the job in New York.” Any opportunity to talk about the city made him feel better. Being around a fellow New York native somehow made him feel better, too. Probably why he found himself at the pool hall bar far too often.

“No, I wasn’t.” She tapped his shoulder as she passed him on her way to the door. “You’re not the only one around here who can be mysterious. Bye, Sheriff Matthews.”

Jacob turned in the booth to watch her leave, fighting an odd sense of disappointment. He had a table; what did he care if she wasn’t sticking around to eat with him? Eating alone hadn’t bothered him before. Doing everything alone in Brookhollow hadn’t bothered him before. But lately...

As the holiday season drew closer, he felt the void of family and friends much more than usual. For the two years he’d spent undercover, he’d been unable to slip away to see Amber and Kyle on Christmas Day. He swallowed hard. This year was supposed to have been different, their first Christmas together as a family. Some of their family, anyway.

Heather passed Sheriff Bishop on his way into the diner. She said something to him before leaving, and the man laughed, his gaze immediately landing on Jacob.

Great. He turned back in the booth and caught April’s arm. “Can I please order?” he asked, his glucose monitor beeping again.

“Sure.” She glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned closer to fill his coffee cup. “And I saw you helping Ginger just now,” she whispered, “so I’ll try to make sure they don’t do anything to your food this time.”

This time? He’d been eating at Joey’s almost every day for weeks. How often were his meals tampered with? “Why are they messing with my food?” And they claimed people in small towns were nice.

“Because you keep messing with them,” she said.

“How?”

“The fine for the parking out back.”

“It’s a fire lane,” he argued.

“And then the expired liquor license thing.”

“They need a valid license.” Give me a break. They were angry at him for holding them responsible for breaking the law? Besides, those warnings had come from Sheriff Bishop—Jacob had just been the messenger.

“All I’m saying is, I know you’re probably bored out of your mind—”

Understatement.

“—with the lack of real crimes around here, but maybe don’t focus so heavily on the place that feeds you,” she said with a wink. “Now—eggs Benedict?”

“Yes, preferably without spit,” he mumbled.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said as Sheriff Bishop joined them. “How’s my favorite sheriff today?”

Subtle.

Jacob took a sip of his coffee. Lukewarm.

“I’m great, April. Just coffee, please,” Sheriff Bishop said.

“You got it. I’ll go grab a fresh pot.”

Jacob sighed.

“Eating alone?” the older man asked.

“Have a seat, please,” he said, staring out the window. Across the street, he saw Ginger chipping away at the block of ice outside her front door. Unbelievable.

“How’s it going?” Sheriff Bishop asked.

“Fantastic,” Jacob grumbled.

“It’ll get easier. Once they get to know you a bit, they’ll warm up.”

He didn’t want them to warm up; he wanted to get back to his life in the city. Besides, how was anyone supposed to get to know him when he couldn’t be honest about who he was and why he was there? And while everyone thought he was a major annoyance? So for that much, he couldn’t blame them. “Well, having to issue all of these warnings aren’t helping.”

The man smiled. “Ah, they’ll get over it. We’ve been down a sheriff since the last guy retired, and I’ve been too soft on them. Give them time.”

He didn’t want to give them time. He wanted to leave Brookhollow. “Have you heard anything?” Jacob asked quietly. He’d asked the same question every day for four months. The answer was never promising.

April returned with fresh coffee and poured a cup for Sheriff Bishop and graciously topped his up with the hot liquid, checking to make sure Tina wasn’t watching.

“Thanks.”

When she left, Sheriff Bishop shook his head. “Nothing.”

Jacob sighed. He knew the NYPD had guys on the case, and that they were doing everything they could to bring Lorenzo in, so Jacob could testify against him and then return to his life, but he also knew the department was being careful. They weren’t about to get aggressive, risking the lives of several other officers, just to bring him back. That was assuming he even had a job to go back to. Blacking out and compromising his position had raised flags about Jacob’s ability to do his job effectively.

Heck, even he was questioning his ability.

Which was exactly why he was here. He had an informant working on the docks at the Port of Newark Terminal, and Jacob was expecting the guy to give him a “wrong number” call when he knew Lorenzo would be there. And that would be Jacob’s cue to move in. Disobeying orders and getting involved with a case that he’d been removed from was wrong, but it was his only opportunity to prove that he could still be a valuable member of the force.

And if it was just his life to consider, he might be able to show more patience and resolve, waiting for either the department to catch Lorenzo or the call from Emilio in Newark.

“Anything from Amber or Kyle?” he asked.

“There may be something in your locker at the station,” Sheriff Bishop said quietly.

Jacob almost smiled at that. “Amber?” he asked, hopefully.

Sheriff Bishop shook his head.

Of course not. His sister was still far too angry at him for making her uproot her entire life and move into the federal witness protection four months ago. But he’d had no choice. Jacob couldn’t protect them anymore, and when Kyle had been approached outside of school by a stranger with a note for his uncle, meant as a warning, their only choice had been the program. Amber had been furious that Jacob expected her to leave her art gallery and take Kyle out of school to move to the middle of nowhere. They’d all had a life in the city—one that had changed abruptly.

Because of him.

He didn’t even know where they were, for their safety. Letters back and forth were the only form of communication allowed, and they were filtered through the US Marshals and Sheriff Bishop, who also read the correspondence.

April brought over his breakfast, and he shot a look behind the counter at Tina. “Is it safe?” he asked April.

She nodded.

He picked up his fork and dove in. At that point, he wasn’t even sure he cared if they’d done anything to it. He was starving, and he knew he’d be helping Ginger Norris with her sidewalk in a few minutes. He needed his blood sugars up for the job.

CHAPTER THREE

JACOB ENTERED THE locker room at the station a few hours later. All afternoon he’d been dying to read the letter from his nephew, but a few emergencies had kept him busy. Pearl Howard, the woman who owned the flower shop on Main Street, had reported a lost cat, and it had taken nearly an hour to locate the tabby—locked accidentally in her coat closet when she’d come home from the supermarket. Unbelievable. In the city, he’d never have answered a missing cat call.

What constituted an emergency in Brookhollow was so different from in New York, and by now Jacob should have learned not to answer the more ridiculous calls. They were making him crazy. Unfortunately, he had to keep up the act.

“Hey, Jake,” Ethan Bishop, Sheriff Bishop’s son and head of the fire department, said as he entered the shared locker room, removing his jacket.

“Hi.” Jacob sat on the bench and removed his boots.

“I heard Mrs. Howard found her cat,” he said, hanging his gear on the hook and reaching for his jeans.

“She sure did.”

Ethan laughed. “I swear she locks him away on purpose to have us stop by for company.”

Pearl had looked slightly disappointed to see Jacob pull up in the squad car instead of the firemen. “I wouldn’t doubt it.” She had invited him to stay for tea and cookies afterward, which he’d refused, so instead she’d asked him to clear her walkway, which he’d done.

“Hey, man—do you ever wish there were real emergency calls around here? A burning shed, at least?” He couldn’t understand how guys like Ethan—young, fit, ambitious and hardworking—could be satisfied with the snail’s pace of life in Brookhollow.

But Ethan shook his head. “Nope. The last time there was a real fire here, it was in my wife’s garage.”

“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it worked out for the best. She wasn’t there, and the garage got rebuilt to code, which I’d been begging her to do for years. But it was still scary.”

“I guess in a small town, a real emergency could mean your own family or friends are involved.” Heck, even in New York, his job had affected the well-being of his family.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re totally fine being bored out of our minds,” Ethan said, grabbing his winter coat from the locker. “Hey, I know some of the guys asked you before, but...here,” he said, taking a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to him.

Jacob opened it. The bowling league again.

“We need a couple extras for the tournament in a few weeks. If you know how to roll a straight ball even just by fluke, you’re in, if you’re interested,” he said.

“Thanks. I’ll...uh...think about it.”

“Okay. See ya around,” Ethan said as he left.

Alone, Jacob balled the paper and tossed it into the trash can in the corner. Bowling was something he and Kyle used to enjoy together. They’d even joined a family league before Jacob had taken the promotion to undercover agent. The disappointment on Kyle’s face when he’d told him their weekly bowling nights would be suspended for a while had torn a hole through him, and participating in the sport now, without his nephew, would make him feel like crap.

Reaching into the back of the locker, he retrieved the already opened letter from Kyle. The return address had been cut from the corner of the envelope, and for the millionth time, Jacob wondered where they’d been sent. He hoped it was somewhere sunny and warm and fun, at least. He wished he was somewhere warm, sunny and fun. Hiding out on a beach in California surrounded by beautiful women and unlimited cocktails would be easier to swallow. An image of Heather behind the pool hall bar flashed in his mind. Okay, two out of three, but still no beach. And besides, she’d told him earlier she was applying for a job in New York. Pretty soon, the only thing making his time there bearable would be gone.

Unfolding the letter, he read.

Dear Uncle Jacob,

How are you? We are fine. Mom says hello, even though she said she is still mad at you. I’m not. The school here is better than the one in New York, they even have snowboarding lessons.

Snowboarding lessons? Colorado?

Mom says you’re probably lying around on a beach somewhere.

Ha! He wished he’d been able to be honest with his sister about his plan when he’d told her he wasn’t going into the program with her and Kyle—it might have made her a little less angry with him. Maybe.

I’ve made some new friends and I’m ahead of everyone with math and English, so the teacher asked me to be her helper. Isn’t that great?

Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. That was great. For a kid who struggled with Asperger’s and being bullied, it was great to hear he was doing well in this new place. No doubt a small town, where their story wasn’t being questioned as much as his own, and where people were accepting of them as a young single mom and son starting over in a new place.

I’m going to see Santa next week at the mall. I’m going to ask him to make sure the police catch the bad guys wanting to hurt us, so we can all be together again in time for Christmas. You ask for the same thing, too, okay? Maybe if we both ask for it, we’ll get it.

Love you Stinker,

Kyle

Jacob sighed as he folded the letter. If only he still believed in Christmas miracles...but he’d stopped believing in holiday magic a long time ago.

* * *

IT WAS GOING to take a Christmas miracle to get her out of Brookhollow before the holidays, Heather thought as she stared at the returned email notification. Invalid email address was the reason the résumé she’d sent to Mike Ainsley hadn’t been delivered. Almost twelve hours later! Shutting down the email on her phone, she dialed her sister’s number.

“Hello?” Cam’s sleepy voice said after the fourth ring.

“Were you asleep?” She glanced at the beer-can-shaped, neon-rimmed clock above the bar. Her sister was a night owl, so she hadn’t thought twice about calling after ten.

“No. I’m going over some testimonies for court tomorrow, what’s up?”

Cam was a prosecuting attorney for the DA’s office in New York and often brought her work home with her. Heather marveled over her sister’s ability to juggle her important, high-powered career with being a wife and mom. Cameron had inherited their parents’ work ethic and ambition, but had somehow gone above that and developed a work-life balance. Tonight she sounded stressed, though, and Heather almost hesitated before saying, “You gave me the wrong email address for Mike Ainsley.”

“No, I didn’t. You must have written it down wrong.” This was exactly why her sister was so great at her job. She was never wrong and had a way of wording things that made people question their own arguments.

“Maybe,” Heather mumbled. “Either way, the résumé I sent today bounced back.”

“Come on, Heather. One sec...” She heard the sound of shuffling papers. “Okay, write this down...”

After Heather copied the insane email address for the second time, she tucked the paper into her apron pocket. “It’s a wonder any of his emails actually reach him. What’s with this crazy email address anyway? I doubt M Ainsley at Highstone Acquisitions was taken,” she mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Cameron said distractedly. It sounded more like I don’t care. “Send it again now.”

“I can’t. I’m at work. I just checked the email on my phone.”

“Well, leave work and go send it. This is more important.”

Her sister didn’t get that she had responsibilities here that she couldn’t just abandon. “Cam, I’ll send it again in the morning. I have to get back to work. Talk soon,” she said, disconnecting the call as the front door opened and Sheriff Matthews entered.

If I was going to eat with someone, it would be you. Not exactly a charmer, but his earlier words in the diner seemed to almost mean more, coming from him, than the most flowery compliment from anyone else. Niceness was obviously not his forte. “Hello again,” she said as he took his usual seat at the bar.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you put stuff in my drinks?” He removed his leather jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his dark blue crew neck sweater as he sat, revealing several scars on his left forearm. They only enhanced his rugged, manly attractiveness.

He was a great-looking guy. If he could work on his game a little bit, he wouldn’t have any trouble attracting women around town. “Like what—roofies?” She’d never had that much trouble securing a date, she mused.

“No, like spit.”

She laughed so hard her sides hurt, and she bent at the waist. When she looked at him again, his unamused expression made her laugh even harder. “I’m sorry...” She struggled to catch her breath. “Tina and Joey are actually tampering with your food at the diner?” Wow, they must really not like this guy. She almost pitied him. Sure, he was rude, and arrogant, and condescending... Wait—where was she going with that thought?

“Can I get a beer, please?”

She nodded, suppressing another laugh. Reaching into the mini-fridge, she took out a bottle of the brand he usually ordered, twisted off the cap and handed it to him. “Want to start a tab?”

He usually paid cash, and it annoyed her, as she had to constantly ring in his drinks and cash him out each time. But still, she always asked, and that evening, he surprised her.

“Sure.”

She smiled. “Great. ID, please.”

“Really? I’m sitting right here. And I’m a police officer. I’m not going to skip out on the bill.”

“Rules are rules. Aren’t you always going around trying to enforce the rules?” she said, hands on her hips.

Jacob reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, then hesitated for a second before handing her his driver’s license.

She took it and glanced at the photo. Then glanced at him. Then back at the photo.

“I was a little heavier then,” he said, gulping his beer.

“A little?” she asked. “And what’s with the bushman’s beard?” The guy in the picture was hardly recognizable as the man sitting in front of her. His brown hair was longer, and his expression was dark, making him look more like a criminal than a cop.

“Do you always criticize people’s ID photos?” he asked, as she tucked it away with the others behind the register.

“Usually not in front of them,” she said with a grin.

She went to grab a food order from the kitchen, and when she returned to gather cutlery and condiments from the bar, she asked, “Is the station entering a float into the Christmas parade?”

“Christmas parade? Really? The only street long enough to accommodate a parade around here is Main Street, and how many floats could a parade here possibly have?” He shrugged before answering her question. “I have no idea.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, adding glasses of beer to the tray. “Our float is going to win anyway. Melody Myers and Brad Monroe are back in town for the holidays, and I’ve convinced them to perform Christmas songs all along the parade route.” She wasn’t sure if Jake had ever heard of the country music stars, but whether he had or not, he nodded.

“What theme are you going with?”

Heather shook her head. “Uh-uh, you’re not getting any more information from me about our entry.”

He sighed. “I was just trying to be polite. It seemed as though you wanted to talk...as usual.”

“I was just wondering if you guys were competing. The float designs every year are a big deal and kept under wraps. We don’t want people stealing each other’s ideas.” She reached for extra napkins and picked up the loaded tray.

“Seriously? It’s a parade float.”

She shot him a look. “Well, our team is not disclosing any information—we know we have a winning design.”

“Team?”

“Yeah. Each float is only allowed to have four people working on it, and their names have to be submitted before construction starts.”

“Wow, this thing is pretty regulated...more than anything else in town.”

Heather laughed. “Christmas is a big deal around here, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said, coming around the side of the bar.

“The house across the street from me looks like it was decorated by Santa’s elves on crack—believe me, I’ve noticed.”

Heather laughed again as she made her way to the bowling alley to deliver the order.

On her way back, she stopped at a corner booth where Lindsay Harper and Noah Parks sat cuddled together on the same side. They’d been together for four months, and it was rare to see one without the other. It was even rarer to see them without five children in tow—they’d recently adopted Lindsay’s nieces and nephews. “Hey, guys. Date night?”

Lindsay nodded “The kids are with Ben and Lily.”

The kids’ godfather had moved to town recently to help Lindsay with the five children who’d been left in her care after the sudden, tragic death of her brother and his wife. And to everyone’s surprise, he’d soon started dating Lindsay’s friend Lily, who owned a clothing store on Main Street.

Families really did come in all shapes and sizes, Heather marveled.

“What can I get you guys?”

“A beer for me and...” Noah glanced at Lindsay.

“A Bloody Mary, please, with extra celery sticks and pickled veggies,” she said.

Noah glanced at her. “Hungry?”

“Twelve-hour shift, remember—I’m starving,” she said, removing her coat to reveal her nurse’s uniform.

“Menus, too, please, Heather,” Noah said, glancing toward the bar. “Oh, great. No one have fun—Sheriff Matthews is here.”

Since Jake had arrived in town, he’d butted heads with no one more so than Noah, a former MMA fighter who ran the at-risk-youth program at the local community center. Both men had the town’s best interest at heart, but they had different ways of dealing with things. Completely opposite ways, in fact.

“He’s easing up a little, I think,” Heather said, not sure why she felt the need to defend Jake, except that he was a nice guy.