Page 129 of Noel Secrets
At her house, she parked in the garage. He joined her as she moved wordlessly to the dogs, feeding them as if auto pilot carried her more than intention. He stood guard, watching her. Once inside, she collapsed into a chair, eyes on her phone.
She groaned and turned the screen toward him.
A photo of the Holmes’s house filled the screen—her van parked front and center, logo glaring like a bullseye.
Be Careful Who You Let Into Your Home.
Clay’s stomach dropped.
“This is going to kill my business,” she whispered.
He sank into the chair across from her. “I’m sorry, Darby. I should’ve gotten to you faster.”
She didn’t respond. Just turned away, as if swallowing whatever words she didn’t trust herself to say.
He saw the truth in what she must be thinking. He should have seen the danger sooner. If he had, the intruder might not have gotten away, and they would have the answers they needed about who had hired him and why. He was no closer to figuring out who was behind this, and the countdown was on. If they hadn’t solved this by the time her son returned home, he’d haveto place them into hiding, meaning she might never be safe. That was no kind of life for her or her child.
He glanced at a photo of Darby and David on the mantle. She held him in her arms, and they both laughed and smiled. She had a great smile. Clearly, her son was the most important thing in her life. It was up to Clay to protect them both from an unknown threat.
He had to do better. He would do better.
Protection detail didn’t mean standing around watching Darby’s every movement. His job was to remain close to his protectee but blend into his environment. Still, watching her work with the dogs, laughing and praising them, he couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest. That smile—genuine and unguarded—felt like sunlight after a long storm. He wanted to see more of it. He needed to.
While she trained a black and white border collie, Clay finished hanging the outdoor lights he’d watched her start yesterday. The job took less than an hour. He carried the empty tub toward the shed but paused when he saw her leading the dog to the kennel. The smile had vanished, her shoulders sagging under invisible weight.
The joy had slipped away, just like that.
And man, he wanted to bring it back.
As he replaced the empty crate, he spotted a shelf that held a box labeledChristmas Tree—Living Room. An idea sparked. Maybe a bit of holiday normalcy would help. He hoisted the box onto his shoulder just as Darby hurried over.
“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing the box.
“I figured we’d decorate a little. Something to welcome David home.”
She hesitated, but a flicker of emotion sparked in her eyes. Not quite a smile, but something warmer than the shadow she’d worn all day. “I’ll grab the ornaments.”
Inside, they worked in sync. Clay assembled the artificial tree while Darby unpacked boxes. The pre-strung lights clicked on, blinking in a soft, steady rhythm. It cast a warm glow across her features, and he caught himself watching her more than the tree.
“Have you ever had a real tree?” he asked, breaking the silence between them.
“A few times. Brent always wanted one, but the scent upset my allergies. David’s too. So since then, we’ve always had artificial ones.” She glanced his way. “What about you? Does your family like real or artificial?”
“Growing up, we always had a real tree. But I haven’t put up a tree in years.”
“What about your family? Do they still have one?”
“My mother died when I was a teenager. My father a few years ago. I have a sister with a family of her own. She invites me every year, but I rarely go.”
Her brows furrowed. “Why not? I’m sure they’d love to have you.”
He rarely talked about this—never on assignment—but something about Darby’s presence disarmed him. Her vulnerability made him want to match it. To meet her in that raw, unguarded place. “It reminds me too much of what I lost.”
“What does that mean?”
“I had a wife and a little girl, Olivia. She was only eighteen months, but she was my world.” He saw Darby’s face light up then she frowned again, obviously noting his use of the past tense.
“What happened?”
