Chloe’s eyes shine and she grins. “Was she good?”
“Definitely. She was as competitive as I was and put a lot of talented guys to shame when it came to skill.” I chuckle at the memory of just how many guys she put to shame that were foolish enough to challenge her.
“What are your parents like?”
“They’re great. My mom was a pediatric nurse. Now she spends her time refurbishing discarded furniture and selling it. Dad recently retired from his job and helps her. The two of them have created quite the little business.” That keeps them both happy and busy.
But not too busy for Mom to ask from time to time about my (non-existent) girlfriends.
“What about your family?”
A cloud briefly crosses Chloe’s face. She picks up a knife and starts chopping the parsley on the cutting board. “There isn’t much I can say about them. As you know, none of them are in my life anymore.” She chews on her lip for a second, as if contemplating whether to tell me something, but then releases it and shrugs. “But before that, my mom and I were close. She’s an amazing woman. She always manages to find the bright side in everything.”
Chloe grins, and it feels as though a cloud has drifted from the sun and the world is suddenly brighter. “I remember one time when I was eight years old, and I’d painted a vase for her birthday. It was bright and had lots of yellows and reds and oranges. Her favorite colors. I was so excited to give it to her, but I accidentally dropped it and it broke. Mom glued it together, but a piece was missing. It was impossible to use as a vase.
“Mom told me that it didn’t matter because she had an even better use for it. She turned it into a plant pot. The hole worked great for drainage. The last time I saw her, she still had that vase with a plant growing in it.”
Chloe’s eyes grow shinier, but this time for a different reason. It’s clear she misses her mom, but unlike me—who can easily hop on a plane and visit mine or any of my family—Chloe doesn’t have the same luxury.
And for the thousandth time since I first learned about the Orlov family, I mentally curse Vadik and his criminal activities.
An itch to pull her into my arms bites me on the ass.
But before I have a chance to satisfy the urge, Chloe blinks away the tears and checks the contents of the saucepan. “So, how’s the couch working for you? I really feel bad taking your bed.” She dumps the parsley into the pot.
“Don’t be.”
“I can sleep on the couch. I fit it better.”
“Yes, but you’re the guest.”
She returns the lid to the saucepan. “More like your fake girlfriend who’s here for protection from the bad guys. That’s hardly a guest.”
“It’s really okay.”
“How about we alternate nights? You get your bed tonight, and I get the couch.” She has that tone I recognized from Isabelle. It’s her don’t-even-bother-trying-to-argue tone.
I ignored it. “Look, tell you what, once I grow tired of sleeping on the couch, I’ll let you know.”
She opens her mouth.
“I’ve made my decision,” I say before she can object.
“God, are you always this stubborn?”
“I like getting my own way.”
“I can see that.” She looks over at the living room, and a small frown furrows her brow. “Where’s Whiskey?”
I follow her gaze and quickly scan the area. “Good question.” A scowl takes up residence in my tone.
We both search the living room.
It doesn’t take long to find him; you just need to follow the trail of stuffing spewed across the hardwood floor.
He and what was once a couch cushion are having a wrestling match in the foyer, and the cushion isn’t coming out the winner.
“No, Whiskey,” I say in a firm tone.
He ignores me, attempting to get his teeth into cushion again. He chomps onto the corner and drags it backward, almost colliding with the side table.
“Whiskey, drop.”
Again, he ignores me, and I grunt.
Chloe laughs softly next to me. I scowl at her, which makes her laugh harder.
She bites her lower lip, holding in her laugh. “Sorry,” she whispers, attempting to arrange her face in a serious expression but failing spectacularly.
She walks over to the puppy. “No, Whiskey.” She disengages what’s left of the cushion from his mouth. “We don’t chew on pillows.”
Whiskey barks at the cushion as she takes it away and hands me the drooled-on remnants. “I hope this didn’t have any sentimental value.”
“I’ll live,” I grumble, throwing the little troublemaker a stern glare.
Grinning a puppy smile, he wags his tail, not at all threatened by my expression.
15
Chloe
A player from the opposite team slams into Landon, sandwiching my fake boyfriend between the plexiglass and himself.
“Ouch, that’s gotta hurt,” I say. The other team is currently down a point, which is making them rather testy.
“Landon’s tough,” Isabelle tells me. She’s sitting on one side of me while her fiancé flanks me on the other side. Her very hot fiancé, may I add.
Jayden’s super friendly, too. They both are.
“This is nothing compared to when he and I were serving in the SEALs,” he says. “And some of our missions now aren’t exactly about cuddling kittens.”
Isabelle snorts a laugh. “When have any of your missions been about cuddling furry baby animals?”
I snicker and sip my hot chocolate, appreciating the skill level on Landon’s team. Not that the opposition are slackers either.
“Landon’s really talented,” I say, stating the obvious.
I don’t know a huge amount about hockey, but I do know enough to appreciate the game and some of the intricacies of the sport. I learned from the best—Kiera’s husband.
“He spent his childhood training for it,” Jayden says. “And like most kids who train hard for a sport, his goal was to become a professional athlete. It didn’t pan out in the end, but that hasn’t killed his competitive nature.”
“I bet he has a lot of girls after him because of that.” All right, there’s a slim chance I’m fishing for information.
Not that I’m interested in him that way.
Nope, not at all.
But there’s something about Landon that has me curious to learn more about him.
From a purely professional standpoint, of course.
“He’s had his fair share of them. But he’s not a player, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I feel my eyebrows pinch together, and I look back at the ice. “He looks like a player to me. Isn’t that the idea of him being out there? To play the game?”
“What I meant is that he’s not a player when it comes to women. He doesn’t hook up with a lot of women. But he’s also not looking for someone to settle down with.”
“Ahhh. Got it.” I have no idea why Jayden’s telling me that. As far as I’m aware, I don’t have “Looking for a future husband” stamped on my face.
I subconsciously lift my hand to my forehead, as if searching for a message I didn’t realize was there.
“Of course, I’m sure if he found the right woman,” Isabelle says, “he’d be more than happy to be in a long-term relationship, maybe start a family. It’s like anything. You don’t realize you need something until you have it. And then you wonder how you survived without it.” She smiles at him.
He returns it and winks at her.
I pretend they aren’t having a moment, and I turn my focus to the game.
A player passes the puck to Landon, who races down the rink with it.
The goalie gets into position. Just as I figure Landon is going to shoot at the net, he passes the puck to his teammate.
The goalie had been thinking the same as me. He was prepared to block Landon’s shot, and can’t move fast enough to prevent Landon’s teammate from scoring.
&
nbsp; The puck flies into the goal, and Jayden, Isabelle, and I are on our feet, yelling our appreciation.
We aren’t the only ones. The seats are filled with girlfriends and wives and kids, all cheering for someone they love on the ice. All being part of something meaningful to their boyfriend, their husband, or their father. All sharing something that gives them great joy.
They could’ve been at home, doing something else. But they chose to be here.
Just like Isabelle and Jayden chose to be here. I mean, sure, they’re here as my bodyguards. But there’s so much more to it than that. From the way people say hi to them or nod at them in recognition, it’s clear this isn’t the first or second or fifth time the pair have been at one of Landon’s games.
This—their coming to his games to support him—is a normal part of their lives.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve experienced something like that with a boyfriend. And strangely, it makes me feel like I belong here. That, for a few hours, I’m part of something bigger than just being a job for Landon and his two colleagues.
By the time the game is finished over two hours later, I’m bouncing with excitement. Things got tense in the second period when the opposite team’s luck turned around. But in the end, Landon’s team won—with Landon scoring the winning goal.
He eventually joins us at the main entrance, his dark hair damp. “So what did you think?” he asks me.
I fling my arms around his neck, surprising us both, temporarily forgetting we’re not alone. Isabelle and Jayden are with us.
But as his girlfriend—okay, fake girlfriend—it’s my duty to show him how amazing I believe he is.
“It was great. You were great.”
Before I have a chance to release my arms from around his neck, he wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me close. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“Definitely. I can’t wait to see your next game.…” The enthusiastic words quickly fizzle in the air.
Because of what they imply.
Naturally, I’m hoping whoever wants me dead will be caught ASAP. But once that happens, Landon will move on to his next mission, and I’ll move on with my life.
A life without him in it.
And that includes no more of his hockey games.
“When’s your next game?” I ask, only too aware that my body is tingling where we’re touching. I release my arms from around his neck.
My body shouldn’t be reacting this way. Landon works for my cousin, and as much as I love Nikolai, he’s still the one who’s no doubt taking over my grandfather’s role of crime boss. He’s still the bad guy.
Which makes Landon the bad guy by default. Right?
Except Landon has already told me that he and his team work on the right side of the law—and that’s why Nikolai hired them.
Plus, Landon is nothing like the men who associated with my grandfather. Those men always left me with the sensation of a thousand tarantulas crawling over my body.
But with Landon, that’s not the case. Nothing about him has set off my “bad guy” alarms.
“Saturday,” Landon says, answering my question.
“Do…do you think by then you’ll have caught the person who wants me to disappear?”
“That would be preferable. The sooner everyone involved is in prison, the better. Is it likely?” He shakes his head.
For some strange reason, relief rushes through me at his words, like a warm summer breeze.
But the relief isn’t from the thought of having my life back, which, according to Landon, isn’t going to happen soon. It’s for a reason I don’t want to put a name to.
“Can I see your next game?” I ask.
Landon threads his fingers with mine. “That can be arranged.”
“You really were great out there.”
“I think you brought me luck.”
From beside me, Isabelle snickers.
“What?” I ask her, confused at why she’s laughing.
“I…Jayden just told me something funny?”
I look at him, waiting for him to explain. He doesn’t say anything. He stares at his fiancée with the same level of confusion that I feel.
“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Isabelle asks as we head to the vehicles. I drove to the arena with her and Jayden, but I’ll be returning to Landon’s town house with him. “Are you spending it with family?”
“I don’t exactly have a family anymore. Or at least not a family that I’m part of,” I say. “Which means I don’t get to spend the holiday season with them. It was part of the deal I made to gain my freedom from that life.”
I don’t need to mention what life I’m referring to—they all know.
“What do you usually do for Thanksgiving and Christmas?” Isabelle asks.
This why I don’t usually tell people about my holiday plans. Being on the receiving end of their pity is never fun.
“Watch a lot of bad Christmas shows and drink eggnog.” I laugh. It’s neither forced nor faked. If there’s one thing I don’t feel when it comes to my lot in life, it’s sorry for myself. So many people in the world are doing so much worse than me.
“And I hang out at Golden Sunshine Retirement Village,” I add, “spending time with the seniors who aren’t visiting with family during the holidays. It’s a lot of fun.” And that’s the truth.
“You’re more than welcome to spend Thanksgiving with us,” Isabelle says. “Well, more like with my grandmother. And her friends. Some of whom you’ve already met. She already told me she would love it if both you and Landon joined us.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be.” A mischievous smile spreads on her face. “In fact, you don’t have a choice in the matter. We’ve been hired to keep you safe, which means you have to do what we tell you. And that includes joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” The smile this time is directed at Jayden.
Grinning at her, he shakes his head as though trying not to laugh out loud. To me, he says, “That’s right. You don’t want to make our job harder than it already is, do you?”
Landon chuckles. “I don’t think she’s giving you a choice,” he tells me.
“He’s right about that,” she says.
I laugh. “How can I say no then? I’m helping at the senior home with their Thanksgiving lunch, but I’m free after that.”
Landon lightly squeezes my hand. “You really like that place, don’t you?”
“That’s because they’re like family to me.”
The best kind of family. The family who’s always there for you.
16
Landon
Thanksgiving Day, I find myself at the seniors’ residence with Chloe.
“You know what would make me truly thankful?” a man whom she introduced as Samuel says. His sorrowful gaze is directed at the glass of milk she set in front of him.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A scotch neat.”
Chloe smiles sweetly at him. “Unfortunately, that isn’t on today’s menu.”
“Or any day,” Frank grumbles. “I miss the good old days when we got to drink whatever we wanted. Even when I was a kid, I managed to get some of the good stuff.”
“Kid?” I park the glass of milk in front of him. “How young are we talking?”
“Twenty.”
“That’s hardly a kid.”
Frank guffaws. “It is when you’re my age. Anything under forty makes you a kid, kid.”
That has all six men at the table laughing heartily.
Once their laughter dies down, Frank looks me over. “So you’re our Chloe’s new man, are ya?”
I nod.
“What makes you so sure you’re worthy of such a fine young lady?”
They all regard me with the same look a lion gives an antelope before toying with it.
Christ. I’ve had all kinds of expressions leveled in my direction over the years, both on this job and wh
ile in the SEALs. Many were enough to strike fear in the hearts of plenty of men, myself included.
But all that pales compared to how I feel about the way these six men are scrutinizing me.
“Because I care about her and couldn’t imagine not spending a single day without her in my life. Because she makes me laugh and makes me want to make her laugh. And because I want to be the man who’s there for her, protecting her.”
All right, I’ll admit some of that comes from a cheesy romance Mom made me watch with her and Dad a few years ago. He and I got into trouble after we burst out laughing when the love interest said it.
I have no doubt she busted Dad’s balls after that.
I got away with the standard line of how one day a girl will break my heart, and I’ll be too much of an idiot to realize those cheesy lines I was making fun of were the ones that would’ve saved the relationship.
I highly doubt that.
But right now, those same corny lines appear to be working wonders with the six elderly men.
And Chloe. Her eyes have adopted a dreamy look, which works perfectly for our cover.
“If my dear Sophie were here,” Samuel says, “she’d be tearing up something fierce. She always was a romantic.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being romantic.” Lawrence narrows his eyes at me. “That’s the problem with the young men these days. They don’t know the first thing about romance.”
I laugh. “I’m not too sure about that. I’ve got plenty of male friends who have no problem in that department.”
By plenty, I mean two: Liam and Jayden.
And maybe a few guys on my hockey team.
“What do you do for a living?” Samuel asks me.
“I’m a substitute teacher right now. That’s how Chloe and I met. I’m currently on assignment at her school.”
“You don’t look like no elementary school teacher,” Frank says.
Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2) Page 12