Page 9 of Claimed and Catalogued
“Stop.” Cole runs his hand back through his messy dark hair and leans back against the bookshelf. “It’s Christmas, and it’s Shell-bell’s wedding. I’m not here to stir shit up. I just wanted to see my favorite sister.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You tell us both that, don’t you?”
“I love both my sisters. Is that a crime?”
“No, but something else you did is. Why were the police asking about you?”
Cole glances up and exhales before rubbing his hand across his jaw, scratching at his beard. “Your security guard is coming back. I better get out of here before he stares ahole through my head. You want to catch up at breakfast or something?”
“You going to tell me anything real or just question my life choices?”
“Probably the second one.” He laughs for a second at his own joke. “Love you, baby sis. Tomorrow morning at the diner?”
I scrunch up my nose. “It’ll have to be early. I need time to get ready for the wedding.”
“That works. See you at seven a.m. on the dot. Our usual.” My brother leans in for a hug, waves goodbye to Nick, and slides back out into the street before disappearing into the swirl of snow and headlights outside. The bell above the door jingles softly behind him.
I stand there for a beat, watching the empty doorway as I try to figure out what to say to my brother that’ll fix all his problems. I’m not big on tough love but my quiet jokes about starting therapy really don’t seem to be doing the trick.
Nick steps up beside me, his presence heavy and grounding. “He ran out of here in a hurry.”
“You spooked him.” I grin, tugging my coat on over the reindeer sweater. “What’s up with the tough guy thing?”
“Tough guy thing?” Nick narrows his brows and pushes open the front door, letting in a gust of blustering snow.
“Yeah.” I pass beside him, and we step out into the street. “You were so serious and intense, like you were sizing him up.”
Nick pulls his key fob out of his pocket and clicks toward a black truck parked on the side of the road. “Just naturally cautious. That’s all. You’re mine for the weekend and I’m protective. Don’t read into it. It’s natural.”
“Protective like a Doberman.” I snort at my own joke as he helps me up into the truck and makes his way around to the other side.
“A Doberman? No. I’m thinking something way cooler. Maybe a wolf or a big bear.” He starts the engine, and it roars low and steady as the dashboard lights cast a soft glow onto his hardened face.
I swear the man could be carved from mountain rock. He shifts the truck into drive and focuses on the road ahead as snow falls heavily. There’s no doubt about it. This man is intense. Intense and capable of commanding any room with a single look… or with a Santa outfit a few sizes too tight.
It’s then that I realize I know nothing else about him. He’s the same dude I thought might have murdered a family of circus travelers two hours ago. The same guy that’s likely done jail time for something involving an out-of-control motorcycle gang. The same guy that’s probably got a warrant for his arrest in three countries.
The truck rolls forward, tires crunching over the snow that’s fallen in the street, and I swallow the sudden lump in my throat.
Dinner. It’s just dinner.
I’m just going to dinner with a stranger.
That’s all this is.
Dinner.
I should ask questions. I want to know what he does, how long he’s done it, and if he has a family or kids.God, the man could have children.
I scan his hand for a wedding band again, but that doesn’t mean anything. Lots of men strip off their rings the second they leave the house. Not good men, but some men.
I clear my throat, trying to sound as casual as possible as I say, “So, besides being hot Santa, what other skills are you good at?”
Wow. I should really socialize more.
His face turns up in a half-smile, but his gaze never leaves the road. “Really? Sounds like I’m in a job interview. Are you looking for personal skills or professional?”
I shrug, trying to sound like I’m not desperate to know every detail about him. “Whatever… just making conversation.”
