Page 18 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
Jordan wraps his muscular arms around me and holds me until I calm down again. Quietly, he says, “I won’t try to stop you, if you really think you need to do this on your own, Stella. But I will say this—I’ve been friends with Wes for a long time. And he’s never lost a witness. But the one time a witness abandoned the program, they died. Wes doesn’t talk about it anymore, but I think that loss is why he did what he did to get you here. Wes Jennings is one of the best people I know. He’s got great instincts and just as importantly, he genuinely cares about the witnesses in his charge. If he thinks this is the right thing to do, then I can’t disagree with him.”
“I don’t?—"
“And just so you know,” he pulls a phone from his pocket, “since Wes had to tag me in, he wanted to make sure I can see what’s going on all the time, so he gave me this.” Jordan scrolls through the camera feeds in my home, then looks at me and smiles. He’s so proud of himself.
My eyes flutter as I try to control my rage. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because now you know you’re safe. You have me watching out for you, 24/7, and I can be here before you blink. It’s better this way. You’re safe now.” He smiles.
I swallow my bile. My voice is shaded with darkness, “You think the answer to me needing some space from all of this big brother madness isone more personwho has access to the cameras in my house?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I know I’mone more person, but I’m the only one who has access to the camerasandlives five minutes away. This is the smartest play. This way I can watch over you.”
My volume is out of my control. “I do not NEED A BABYSITTER!”
“Well, you sure needed one this morning, didn’t you?” he barks back.
“Get out!” I find my feet and stand over him.
“Are you kidding me? Stella, be reasonable?—"
“OUT!”
7
The roads haven’t been plowed yet, but that’s alright. My old pickup truck handles them just fine. The headlights reflect off the white blank slate, and I wish I had one of those for everything in my life. A blank slate sounds nice right about now. I’d drive all day long on snow—covered roads just to talk to a woman who isn’t Stella Collins. She’s nuts.
I can’t believe she isn’t grateful to Wes for hooking her up with some muscle to take care of her. What in the hell is that about? What is wrong with her? I know she’s been through a lot, but I would have thought that meant she would have had enough good sense to understand when she was being handed a break. Instead, she acts like I’m a problem.
I’m not a problem. I’m a benefit of being Wes’ assignment. How could I be a problem? And didn’t she have fun last night? Why is she pushing me away? It doesn’t make any sense at all. Ugh. I whack my head on the headrest to clear it up. What the hell is wrong with her? Why am I still thinking about her?
At least she had enough sense to stay put today. I checked the camera in her dining room this morning, and she was already up to make coffee, so my mind is at ease on all of that. Thought about checking her other cameras, but that one seems the least intrusive, so I feel like less of a jerk for watching it.
I park in front of the diner, and my feet crunch into the snow as soon as I step out of the truck. Inside, the diner is nice and warm and well—lit. Most importantly, Katie is here. She smiles, “Well, hey there, darlin’. Take a seat wherever. I’ll be by to get your order in a minute.”
“Thanks, Katie.” I take a booth in the corner and relax. Mr. Johnson, the liquor store manager, has his breakfast with Katie every morning. I know they’re not related, but he is like a great grandfather to her. He’s as old as Mr. Hanson, and I wonder if he knows about his health. They are friends and I wonder if I should be the one to tell him. As unpleasant as the topic is, it’s nice to think about people other than Stella.
It’s not like I don’t have other people in my life. Floyd is a town of a couple hundred people, half of whom are within dating age range of myself and half of them are women, give or take. Stella Collins isn’t the only datable woman around these parts. I have options, dammit.
Patricia, the librarian, for instance, sits four booths over. She has a crush on me, but it’s one—sided. We were at the Floyd Christmas Parade two years ago and got caught by the elves carrying mistletoe. They hung it over us, then sang some song about kissing, and waited until we did. It clearly meant something to her, so I haven’t been back to the library since. Shegives a shy wave, and I afford her a polite smile and nod, hoping not to stir her passions.
“What’ll it be today, Jordan?” Katie asks, as she pours my coffee. Her long blonde hair is tied up in a bun, and her warm brown eyes smile when she talks. She wears her sapphire high school class ring, even though school’s been over for her for near a decade. Katie Briar is as sweet as the pie she serves.
“Corned beef hash, four eggs over easy, hash browns, sausage, and rye toast. Oh, and country ham. And a small fruit bowl.”
“Well, of course, thesmallfruit bowl. Wouldn’t want to go overboard, now wouldja?”
I chuckle, then add, “And pancakes.”
“Damn, son, where you gonna put all that?” she winks. Her freckles dance on her nose when she does, and it’s adorable, but it doesn’t make my blood stir like it used to. Odd.
“I have had a very strange forty—eight hours, and I think I skipped some meals. I’m famished.”
“I’ll put the order in with Georgie right away, and when I come back, you can tell me all about it.” She flits to the kitchen, so I watch the view. Her round ass is distracting, but it’s not as nice as Stella’s. Dammit, why am I thinking about her again? I sigh. I need to get her off my mind. Maybe Katie can help me out with that. She returns fast, with a sly smile. “So, what’s happening?”
“I can’t get into the details, but the shorthand is that sometimes, even though I retired, I feel like my old life keeps calling.”
Katie lowers her voice and says, “You mean, the Special Forces stuff?”
