Page 25 of A Little Christmas Wish

She guessed.

It still felt like she was a fraud. As they drove out of the underground parking lot, a man stepped in front of the truck and Matthieu had to slam on the brakes.

Betsy let out a small cry and slumped down, expecting something to happen. For the man to pull a gun on them. For an explosion.

Her heart raced, her hands shaking.

What was happening? What was going on?

“Mon chéri, what’s wrong?” Matthieu asked, his accent slipping out. That only happened when he was upset.

Why was he upset? Had something happened? Had he seen someone?

“Betsy? Talk to me. Wait, I’ll pull out of the way.” He moved the truck as she forced herself to sit up.

And that’s when she realized that man hadn’t actually done anything. He’d simply stepped out in front of them suddenly.

That was it.

She’d overreacted.

And the reason Matthieu was upset was because she was upset.

Crap.

“I’m fine. Sorry about that.” She sat up further and straightened her clothes. “Um, shall we head home?”

“Betsy,” he said warningly. “You panicked. Your breathing grew all shaky and you were trembling and as white as a ghost. Tell me what happened.”

She blew out a breath. “I’m just on edge, that’s all. I’m really okay. I think I’d just feel better at home.”

Matthieu was silent for a long moment, then nodded.

Betsy sighed, glad he’d let it go.

She should have known better.

8

“Betsy.”

She let out a scream, her hot cocoa flying into the air and landing all over her hand and lap.

Holy crap.

When she’d gotten home, she’d tried to send Matthieu away, telling him that she would be fine.

But he’d simply stared at her before going into the kitchen to make her a hot cocoa.

That’s what she was sipping on now as she sat on the sofa under her reindeer blanket. She had a Christmas movie playing on the TV and had been doing some online shopping on her phone.

“Ouch,” she cried as the hot chocolate burned her hand.

“Fuck! Fuck, sorry, Brown eyes.” Ink leaped toward her, grabbing her wrist so he could hold her hand still. “Shit. It’s red.”

“It’s fine. The hot chocolate wasn’t even that hot.” Well, it was a bit hot. And it did kind of burn. But it really wasn’t that big of a deal . . .

Only, she couldn’t seem to convince Ink of that as he scooped her up and ran with her into the kitchen.

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