Mr. Taken (Mystery Christmas Book 3)

by Danica Winters

  “Are you the kind who moves too fast?” she continued, not waiting for him to answer. “Wait...are you a mouth breather?”

  “What?” He laughed. “Definitely not a mouth breather. Would that be a deal breaker for you?”

  Her smile widened. “I wouldn’t date a man who was unkind to his mother. I think that, with some exceptions, a man can be judged by his relationship with his mom.”

  “Do I pass that test?”

  Her eyebrow quirked. “What if I said no?”

  The way she teased made the little bit of hope inside him grow.

  “If you said no, then I suppose that I would have to hang out with you some more—I would show you what kind of man I really am.”

  “Hmm... I was going to say that your relationship with your mother was good, but now I’m rethinking it. So much so that we may need to spend a little more time together.”

  He laughed. “Before I commit to something so extreme, are there any more quirks that I need to know about? You know, major turnoffs?”

  She started to lead him toward the hardware store. She looked back at him with a smile, but had started to nibble her bottom lip. He’d noticed the little tic before, and he loved the way it made her lips grow redder—it was almost the same color as if she had just been kissed. And a kiss, just one single kiss, was the only thing in the world he wanted right now.

  “Let’s see...” she said as they walked into the store. The place smelled like old popcorn and motor oil. “I don’t like when a man thinks he can boss me around. And I need someone who’s patient.”

  He had patience in spades and he’d learned not to try to tell a woman what to do a long time ago. He couldn’t understand the women who let their lives be controlled by the men they said they loved, and on the flip side, he didn’t want or expect to be controlled, either. “The only relationships that I have found to work in my life are when we work in tandem, side by side, and raise each other up. By telling those who we care about what to do... Well, I think it’s kind of patronizing. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, it’s almost like you can’t think for yourself.” She let go of his hand and motioned toward the lumber department. “If you wanted to run and get what you need, I’ll get us some popcorn. Sound good?”

  She was running from their talk, but he couldn’t blame her. As much as he loved talking to her and learning about what made her tick, it was always uncomfortable and challenging to open up and reveal yourself to another person. She might not have realized it, but he held the same fears. It came with who he was, a part of him that was as deeply ingrained as his will to breathe.

  He grabbed a cart for the board and moved through the aisle, making quick work of getting the plywood. He pushed the monstrous, wobbling cart through to the front of the store as Whitney came walking toward him. She smiled and lifted up the popcorn like a peace offering. Yet, as she looked at him, she mustn’t have noticed the display of Christmas ornaments that were in the middle of the aisle and her foot connected with the corner of the boxes, sending the popcorn in her hands flying. The kernels flew through the air, and as she moved to instinctively correct herself, she fell forward, landing on the floor in a sea of yellow corn.

  She glanced up, her mouth opened in shock, and looked toward him to see if he had been watching. He let go of his cart and rushed to her side. She put her forehead down on the concrete floor as he neared.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling down beside her. “That was a hard fall.”

  “Ugh,” she said, the noise coming from somewhere deep within her. “I can’t believe I just did that...and you saw.” She started to giggle and she pushed herself up to her knees. “I swear I’m not the klutzy type—I’m no Bella Swan. Really.”

  “Bella Swan?” he asked, totally confused.

  “You know... The girl from Twilight.”

  He laughed. “So you’re a fan of vampire novels?” He took her by the arm and helped her to stand. He brushed the front of her jacket off, careful to avoid the gentle curves where her breasts pressed against the firm cloth of her coat.

  “I always love a good story,” she said, but he noticed that her already red cheeks grew a shade darker.

  “Taking out a thousand ornaments at a hardware store is a good one...” He laughed, motioning to the boxes of ornaments that had tumbled on the far side of the stack.

  She ran her hands over her face.

  He walked around to the other side and started to pick up the boxes and set them up on the remaining stack.

  “Are any of them broken?” she asked, moving to his side and picking up a box, flipping it around in her hand.

  He looked at the boxes in his hands. “None so far. But hey, if the first ornament that we have to buy together is a broken one, I’ll take it.”

  She stopped moving and stared at him for a moment, making him wish that he hadn’t pressed her about anything involving what might or might not have been his hopes of a relationship.

  Glancing away, she set the box in her hand on the top of the stack. “If, and only if, we had a relationship, I would hope we would start it without broken things.”

  The hope inside him grew one size larger, making him think of the Grinch and the little box exploding as his heart grew three sizes. “If we started dating... What would be your ideal first date?”

  She kept moving, but he could see her chewing at her lip. “I don’t know. What about you?”

  He shrugged, picking up another box. “I guess I would want to go horseback riding. It’s something I always did as a kid. It always calmed me down when I was having a hard day.”

  “If someone didn’t ride, would that be a deal breaker for you?”

  He nodded. “It would be hard. It’s a big part of my life. I grew up around horses, you know. They are like other members of the family to me. You know what I mean?”

  Her shoulders fell and she turned her back to him. She stopped moving and he could see her shoulders start to quiver. Reaching over, he touched her shoulder and turned her around. A tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Are you okay? Did you hurt something when you fell?” he asked, trying to make sense of her spontaneous crying.

  “I...I don’t ride anymore. I can’t.” She wiped the tear from her face, the motion so hard that it left a red mark behind. “We...can’t... There are so many reasons.”

  The last thing he had wanted to do was upset her. The hope in him receded. He couldn’t fix her. He couldn’t make her feel something that she didn’t want, or wasn’t ready, to feel.

  “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, but the disappointment rattled through him. “Did you ever ride?”

  He scooped the popcorn into a pile and left it beside the stack of ornaments. He was so attracted to her, and all of her perfect imperfections, but she had rejected him.

  He had been stupid to hope for anything more than being her friend. He gave a resigned sigh. He needed to be happy with that, and he would just have to keep reminding himself that it was better to have her as that than nothing at all. At least this way, he could keep her in his life.

  She picked up the last ornament. “I used to have the best horse. He was from the Secretariat bloodline. He was worth so much money and I had plans to start using him to stud. His papered name was Runs Like the Wind, but I just called him Rudy.”

  “What happened?” As soon as he asked, he chastised himself for asking her something so personal. When would he learn that she would balk if he pressed too hard?

  Sucking in a long breath, she slowly made her way over to his cart.

  The look in her eyes reminded him of a skittish horse—one that had been hurt in the past so badly that it would take a long time for it to be able to trust again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he continued, trying to make her
feel at ease.

  “He was... He died in the fire.”

  “The fire your ex set?”

  She glanced around the store, but he couldn’t tell if she was looking for her ex or an exit. “He... I tried to save him.”

  She pushed the cart toward the checkout stand and they stood in silence as the cashier rang them up. He wanted to talk to her to ask which he she meant—her ex or the horse—but as they pushed the cart through the parking lot, it clanged and jingled so loudly on the asphalt that he would have had to yell to be heard over the sound.

  He slid the board into the back of the truck and looked back at Whitney as he pushed the cart to the front of the store. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Something she feared, or was it something that she feared admitting to?

  She was texting something on her phone as he got back into his truck. Before he could see what she was doing, she stuffed the phone into her pocket and out of his sight.

  He got into the truck, sliding into the seat next to her. He started to open his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. If she wanted to talk, she could do so on her own time.

  He knew better than most that some secrets were better left alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Whitney couldn’t decide what she was more embarrassed about—falling all over the Christmas display, or falling all over her words and opening up to the one man she wanted to share her secrets with, but knew she couldn’t. If she told him everything, he would be just as much in danger as she was. She couldn’t protect everyone in her world; she couldn’t even protect herself. And if Frank found her... This time she doubted that she would make it out of his grasp alive. She had only been lucky last time.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand as her mother texted her. It was another one of her invitations to come home for Christmas, but they both knew that it wasn’t an option. She kept asking where Whitney was and asking if she was safe, but the conversation only frustrated Whitney more. She couldn’t tell her mother anything, and the loneliness and secrets were starting to get to her. She’d never been one to keep everything hidden, so she hated living this kind of life.

  Colter was humming with the radio as he drove and she longed to reach over and take his hand back in hers again. It felt good to be touched again, and he clearly liked her. Yet she thought of the thousands of articles that she’d read in magazines and on the internet that talked about starting a relationship and dealing with stalkers. If Colter posted a picture of her online or said anything on Facebook, Twitter or any social-media site—it would only be a matter of time before Frank would track her down. She would have to run again.

  She was so tired of running. So tired of hiding and the constant fear that came with it. And if she wasn’t done running, no matter how badly she wanted a man like Colter in her life, she had to do what was best for both of them. And this time—it was just to let things go. He could find a woman who didn’t have such a ridiculous amount of drama in her life. He could have a woman who wanted to get on a horse again. Or he could have a woman who was ready to simply start living again, who wasn’t afraid of having her picture taken out of fear that the ghosts of her past would come back to haunt her. He could have a woman who was safe.

  They parked in front of Pretties and Pastries, Sarah Rizzo’s little café. Ever since her little accident at the hardware store, Whitney had nearly forgotten their other errand. Her stomach balled with nerves as she looked up at the pink-striped awning that sat over the front window of the café. The glass had a painting of Santa’s workshop, complete with three little elves as they worked on parts of a train.

  Everything about the caterer was too perfect for words. She owned a business. She could cook. Her hair was the perfect shade of blond. And unlike Whitney, she didn’t have two little love handles around her waist when she sat down. Moreover, she didn’t have drama.

  Whitney swallowed back her insecurities, or at least she tried to, but they crept up from the depths of her belly like tiny mites climbing up the leaves of a rose.

  Sarah was the woman Colter should have been with. He had sworn that he didn’t feel anything for the woman, and that she wasn’t the one for him, but on paper even Whitney could see all the reasons he was wrong. Sarah had everything that a man like him, a man who was stable, could want.

  “Do you want to wait in the truck?” Colter asked, motioning toward the oh-so-cute shop.

  What she wanted was to be back in the confines of her office, safe and secure and not overwhelmed by the confusing mess of emotions she was feeling, but since that wasn’t an option and she was forced to face reality... Well, she had to make the best of it. That started with her facing the fact that there were other women in the world who wanted to be with Colter. As his friend, she couldn’t be jealous or possessive of him. She needed to point him in the right direction, even if that meant pointing him toward Sarah Rizzo.

  He needed to realize that maybe the pretty chef really was the best fit for him, but he would never do that if he thought there was something between Whitney and him.

  In the fight between her head and her heart, she needed to let her head win this one—even if it went against everything that she felt and wanted to continue to feel.

  “No, I’ll go in with you. I should pop in and say hello to her at the very least,” she said, forcing herself to smile.

  He frowned as he looked over at her, but no matter how long he looked, she was sure that he would never start to understand exactly what she was thinking. Men were smart, but they were never going to understand women.

  “Okay.” He drew the word out as if it had more than two syllables. “We don’t have to stay long.” He grabbed the note his mother had sent for Sarah. Next to it on the dashboard was a red envelope, and as his finger brushed against it, he jerked back as though it had seared his skin.

  For a second, she thought about staying behind and looking at whatever it was that had made him recoil from the letter, but she shook off the thought. Just like her, he was allowed to have aspects of his life that she knew nothing about.

  He helped her out of the truck, their hands brushing against each other, but he didn’t move to take her hand. She appreciated him not moving closer. It would make what she had to do that much easier if she didn’t feel the heat of his skin against hers.

  The door of the café opened with a jingle, and he stood holding it open for her to walk in. She took a long breath and stepped inside. The place smelled wonderful, like fresh bread and butter. It was warm and there were antique teapots and cups on shelves throughout the room. The place made her imagine a little English tea shop. It even had a kind of matronly air that was in direct contrast to the slim blonde who made her way out of the kitchen.

  Sarah was wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Colter she beamed, but as her gaze moved to Whitney, some of the brilliance in her smile faded. It was okay—Whitney could understand her disappointment. She had felt the same way when she saw Sarah with her arms wrapped around the man—it was a competition to her, a competition that no doubt she thought she was losing.

  “Heya, guys,” Sarah said. “How can I help you?”

  Colter smiled. “My mother said she’s been trying to reach you all day but couldn’t get ahold of you. So she sent us here with a note about the menu.” He handed her the piece of paper.

  Sarah opened it, mouthing the words as she read. “Tell her that this shouldn’t be a problem. I hadn’t started to wrap the shrimp yet. I can make the change.” She stuffed the note in her pocket. “Do you guys want to come in and take a peek at everything?”

  “No, we better get—” Colter started, but Whitney cut him off.

  “Actually, that would be great,” Whitney said, trying to sound far more excited than she was feeling.

  “Okay.” Sarah looked surprised and glanced over at Colter like she was tryin
g to make sense of what was happening by reading his face.

  She turned away and led them to the kitchen. Inside the doors there was a team of three young women. One was rolling dough, and the other two were making what looked like some kind of chocolate confections in the shape of horseshoes and Christmas trees.

  “I was hoping to get as much done ahead of time as possible. That way I only have the final touches to do and put things in the ovens before heading out to the ranch.” Sarah waved around the kitchen. There was a small table in the back. “Why don’t you guys sit down?” She pointed toward the table.

  Colter motioned for Whitney to lead the way, but from the way his body stiffened, she could tell he was deeply uncomfortable.

  If he was that upset with her and Sarah being civil toward each other, and in the same room, then he had to feel more toward the woman than he was admitting to. The thought made a new tendril of jealousy grow through her. Even though Whitney had told herself this was what she had wanted, standing here in Sarah’s den, it was harder than she had imagined. It almost felt like she was the other woman, infringing on Sarah’s territory.

  Maybe Colter had been right and she should never have come in, yet there was no turning back now. She had to simply be strong and face her fears, even if it meant watching Colter being attracted to another woman.

  Whitney sat down in the chair at the table with as much grace as she could muster.

  “Let me grab us some plates,” Sarah said. As she rushed around the kitchen, the other women looked over at her like she had lost her mind. “Oh, by the way, these are my cousins,” she said, almost as if she had completely forgotten they were there until now.

  “Nice to meet you,” Whitney said, forcing herself to sound much happier than she was feeling.

  Colter dipped his head in acknowledgment.

  The cousins working on the chocolate whispered something to each other and they both started laughing as they glanced over toward her. Uncomfortable, she ran her hands over her hair, even though she was sure that what they were laughing at had nothing to do with what she looked like, but more to do with the man and the situation that she was in.