In the end, Reid helped her put the tree in the stand, string up the lights, hang ornaments on the highest branches, and when the tree was ready for the angel on top, he lifted Nicholas and showed her boy where to place the finishing touch. Her heart gave a bittersweet throb. She’d have loved to have snapped a few pictures with her phone as they decked the boughs. Andrew’s parents lived out of state and were always tickled to get updates and pictures of their grandson. But her phone had been disabled in order to prevent them being tracked.
As Reid turned back toward her, Nicholas still in his arms, he tipped his head and crumpled his brow. “What’s wrong? Is she crooked?” He glanced back at the angel.
Pen waved off his comment. “Of course she’s crooked. She’s adorably crooked. Don’t change a thing.”
“Then what was the sad face about?”
“Just...wishing I could take a picture of the tree, of Nicholas...” Of you holding Nicholas. She cleared her throat. “Family times like this are meant to be recorded.”
“Hmm.” He ruffled Nicholas’s hair as he set him on the floor. “I wouldn’t know. Coltons aren’t big on warm, cozy family memories.” He flashed a wry grin that held a bit of regret before brightening his smile as he stepped closer to her. “But this was fun. Thanks for making me help.”
He stroked a hand from her shoulder down her arm, capturing her hand to tug her close.
The shift in mood from lighthearted to sensual was palpable, and her pulse rum-pa-pum-pummed along with “The Little Drummer Boy.” She swallowed hard, his searing kiss all too fresh in her memory, and worked to keep her tone airy. “Thank Nicholas. He spotted the tree.”
Reid angled his head toward the toddler who was examining every bauble and shiny light on their tree with rapt fascination. “Thanks, Nick!”
“Ooo, look, Mommy! Pwesent!” He pointed to an ornament shaped like a wrapped package with a large red bow.
Reid snapped his fingers and turned to cross back to the pile of discarded bags. “That reminds me. I got you something.”
“Me? Like a Christmas gift?”
“Uh, no. Like a safety gift.” He pulled two burner phones out of the bag. “I don’t like being out of touch when I go to the ranch or to run errands. I’ll set these up so my number,” he wiggled one phone, “will be on your speed dial.”
She nodded. “Good idea.” She watched him tear into the packages, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Have you been back by the ranch this week?”
“Not in a few days.” He glanced up. “But I’m thinking it’s about time I filled them in on what’s going on. That lead I was onto earlier?”
“Before we started down Candy Cane Lane?” she said, mimicking him.
He nodded. “Exactly. It concerned my father. His disappearance. It seems Hugh made a substantial payment to the ME who pronounced the burned body to be Eldridge, just before the man mysteriously disappeared.”
“You can prove that?”
“I’m close to proving it. I found the bank record of the money transfer. I plan to call—” he flipped his wrist to check his watch “—tomorrow morning when the bank opens and confirm the transfer. But evidence seems to support that Hugh paid the guy to lie about the body’s identity, then saw to it the guy disappeared.”
A shiver rippled through her. “Disappeared as in...killed?”
His lips thinned in a frown of disgust. “At this point, that wouldn’t surprise me.”
* * *
Nicholas was unsurprisingly keyed up that evening, and even after a warm bath and several stories, fought his bedtime ritual. When Penelope finally got him settled and asleep, she tiptoed back out to the front room to join Reid.
“Success?”
“At last,” she said, keeping her voice quiet as she entered the den.
Reid stood from the crouch in front of the stone fireplace where he had a cozy blaze crackling. He dusted off his hands and gave a lopsided grin of acknowledgment. “I’d have thought after today he’d have been exhausted and would have dropped right off.”
She threaded her fingers through her hair, her own fatigue dragging at her. “In the toddler world, there’s such a thing as overtired, and it actually makes it harder for the little ones to get to sleep.” She sent Reid a grin. “He loves the tree and all the decorations. Thank you.”
He nodded, holding her gaze, then a beat later, he waved a hand toward the couch where he’d uncorked a bottle of red wine. The room lights were turned low, so the Christmas tree glowed and twinkled with particular warmth and holiday beauty. “Come. Your turn to unwind.”
She paused, a nervous flutter tickling her belly. The setup was too intimate. Too ideal. Too...tempting. Memories of the kiss they’d shared earlier in the day roared to life like tossing gasoline on flames. And now he’d created this cozy setup...
Penelope shook off her hesitation.
If she handled it right, she saw no reason not to enjoy a glass of merlot and warm herself by the fire. She chose a spot at the end of the couch, and after toeing off her shoes, she angled her body toward the fireplace and tucked her feet under her.
Reid poured them each a generous serving of the wine and took the other end of the couch. Lifting his glass toward her, he said, “Sláinte!”
“Sláinte?” She gave him a dismissive grin. “You’re not Irish.”
“No. Neither was my father. He was born as Texas redneck as they come, but it didn’t stop him from using that toast at every dinner party he ever hosted. He thought it gave him class.”
She gave a disgruntled, “Hmph. Class isn’t created by saying a few magic words or having the right car and clothes. It’s about how you live your life, how you treat people.”
He leaned back against the cushions and took a slow sip of his wine. “Agreed. That didn’t stop ole Eldridge from trying to impress folks with his cash, though. He was all about the image.”
She sipped her own wine, letting the mellow flavors linger on her tongue. “Past tense?”
Reid blinked. “Hmm?”
“You referred to Eldridge in the past tense. Does that mean you think he’s dead?”
He cocked his head slightly. “You sound like a cop.”
Penelope turned up a palm. “Well, I did marry one. I picked up a few things over the years.” She sipped again and narrowed her gaze on him. “So? Do you think of your father in the past tense now?”
“Not really. But if he is alive, where the hell is he? Why hasn’t he contacted anyone? Why no ransom note?”
“So you don’t believe my father really saw him last month, I take it?”
“Would you? When we have so much evidence showing he arranged for the burned body, paid off the ME to say it was Eldridge when it wasn’t. The whole story, sighting included, was pretty obviously a ruse to get my father’s will read.” Reid angled a surly look toward her. “Did I mention Eldridge’s will conveniently left controlling interest in Colton Inc. to you father? Fowler was quick to contest that, let me tell you.”
“You did.” She wrinkled her nose, still stunned by the news. “Why did your family believe your father left the majority of his company to his lawyer? Why didn’t you question the will from the start?”
Reid took a large swig of merlot. “Because it would be just the sort of attention-seeking stunt Eldridge has pulled in the past. I gave up trying to figure him out years ago. We were shocked, of course. But it sounded like just the sort of final ‘screw you’ from the grave Eldridge would give to his family.”
“I didn’t realize things were that dicey at the Colton ranch.”
He sent her a dubious look.
“Well, other than Fowler being a first-class jerk most of the time. And Marceline being rather catty,” she amended.
“Catty.” He flashed a wry smile and rubbed the musc
les at the back of his neck with his free hand. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it.”
“But the rest of your family...” She tried to remember the few occasions that Reid talked about his siblings or the rare occasion when she’d been invited to Colton Valley Ranch for special events. What had the family dynamic been like?
“Let’s just say, Eldridge’s disappearance and presumed death brought out the dark side of the Colton clan.”
“Oh?” Her tone invited him to continue.
He raised his eyebrows and twisted his mouth in disgust. “Like I mentioned before—all the finger-pointing and backstabbing in the past few months related to Eldridge’s disappearance and other trouble we’ve encountered. I’d rather not rehash it.”
“I’m sure that was stressful.”
He patted his chest. “Ah, warms the cockles of my heart to know how my family comes together in a crisis,” he grumbled.
She thought of how her father had pushed her mother away, shut her out when she was sick, as if he could pretend the disease wasn’t ravaging his wife. “I can relate. My father was a real ass to my mom while she fought her cancer. Treated her as if she were already dead or just too much trouble to bother with.”
He sent her a commiserative glance. “I remember you telling me that, years ago. How hard it was on you.”
“More so for my mom. I already had a strained relationship with Hugh. But seeing the way he dismissed my mother, rarely stopped by her room to visit her when she was bed-bound...”
“Sounds like our fathers were cut from the same cloth. No wonder they got along so well. I guess you remember I’ve always had a pretty contentious relationship with my father.”
She winced. “Sorry.”
He waved her off. “Not your fault. Eldridge didn’t go from redneck thief to billionaire oilman and rancher because of his parenting skills. He was always a cunning, ruthless businessman and opportunist. He married his first wife for her money and surrounded himself with people who would protect his interests and weren’t afraid to be just as ruthless as their employer.”
“Like my father,” she finished for him. He fumbled a bit, and she shook her head. “No, no. Don’t try to backtrack or be polite. It’s true. I think we have ample proof of that in recent days.”
He raised his glass toward her again. “To the children of sorry, distant fathers.”
She grinned and clinked her wineglass to his. “We turned out okay, though. Right?”
He flashed a coy smile. “Well, you did. I’m still working on some rough edges.”
She chuckled and raised her wine again, teasing, “I’ll drink to that!”
He playfully clutched his heart as if she’d wounded him. After contemplating the fire for a moment he said, “For what it’s worth—speaking of rough edges—I think the worst of the undercutting is behind the family. I’ve sensed a shift toward cooperation and mutual goals.”
“Because everyone is falling in love, happier with their lives and moving forward.” She finished for him, remembering his earlier comments about the family changes. Her calf began cramping, and she stretched out her legs and rubbed the stiff muscle. “And you?”
He paused with his wineglass almost to his lips. “What about me?”
“Are you...happy with your life?”
He sipped, set the glass aside, and unexpectedly took hold of her foot which was only inches from his thigh.
His touch sent shock waves through her. The first blast of adrenaline was rooted in surprise, kicking her heart rate into high gear. But as his fingers dug into the tired tendons of her feet and worked the cramping muscle in her calf, heady sensations rippled through her, as sweet and intoxicating as the wine. A moan of pleasure slipped from her throat before she could squelch it.
His hand stilled momentarily, and her breath stuck in her lungs as their eyes met. Neither of them moved, but the earth seemed to shift under her. Neither said anything, but a clear message passed between them. The air vibrated. The mood changed. They hurtled past an invisible guardrail into an abyss from which she wasn’t sure she could ever return.
Reid slid his hand up to grasp her ankle, tugging her leg closer and dragging her feet onto his lap. Her wine sloshed as his actions toppled her onto her back. He took her glass from her and set it aside, his feral gaze never leaving her. She blinked at him, stunned, but didn’t pull her feet from his hands as he cupped first one, then the other, rubbing them with deep, relaxing strokes.
She tipped back her head, allowing the tension in her body to flow out, surrendering to his magic touch.
Reid. That’s Reid Colton you’re melting for. The sobering acknowledgment was quickly silenced by a competing voice that reminded her he’d saved her life, exonerated himself regarding Andrew’s death and proven himself trustworthy.
And no matter how much time has passed or how much your life has changed, he still makes your heart race as much today as when you were a teenager and fell for his devastating good looks and rakish charms. That was the issue she faced in a nutshell. She’d always been hopelessly attracted to Reid, and the signals he sent her now, his returned interest, made her head spin and her suppressed longings fire to life.
“You never answered me,” she said drowsily, savoring the sweet lassitude that sank to her bones. “Are you happy with your life?”
Chapter 13
Reid twisted his mouth as he thought, then cast a sultry side glance to her. “I’m happy right now...here with you.”
Her pulse staggered, and she realized that, despite the turmoil and danger they’d encountered in the past few days, she was happy right now, too. With Reid.
But what if she was wrong about him? What if his story about how Andrew died was a lie? What about the way her father had bowed and scraped for all the Coltons while ignoring her for her whole life? Were her feelings of hostility toward his family just a manifestation of little-girl jealousy and hurt?
She’d seen a different side to Reid when he’d become Andrew’s partner and friend. He still had moments of acting the entitled rich boy, the arrogant jock she’d known in high school, but she knew more facets of Reid now. He was deeper than his shallow mother, kinder than his snobbish half siblings and had an innate sense of justice and protectiveness that had drawn him into a career he’d not needed for the income, but undertook to fulfill a sense of purpose and duty.
She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Something wrong?” he asked, his hands stilling on her feet.
“Only that you quit rubbing my feet,” she replied with a lopsided grin, then grew more serious. “And I overthink things. I rationalize and nitpick things to death.”
“Having an analytical mind isn’t a bad thing.”
“I said overthinking. I have trouble letting things go sometimes and accepting things at face value.”
He focused his deep blue gaze on her and frowned. “What are you overthinking at the moment?”
She swallowed hard and curled her fingers around the hem of her sweater. “You.”
His eyebrows shot up for a moment, then formed an inquisitive V. Shifting on the couch, he let her feet fall to the floor as he stretched toward her. “Is there anything I can do to help you decide your feelings about me?” His hand settled at her waist as he lay across her body, pressing her into the cool leather cushions. “Maybe this?” He brushed his lips across the pulse point on her neck.
Her breath snagged, and her fingers curled around his shoulders.
“Or this?” Reid nipped the tip of her chin, and her head swam muzzily.
“Reid...” she rasped.
He raised his head to look deeply into her eyes. “I want you, Pen. I won’t pretend otherwise any longer. But if this isn’t what you want, you can tell me to go to hell, and I’ll respect your feelings.
”
She opened her mouth to reply, but so many thoughts and emotions battled inside her, she could only stare at him mutely.
When she didn’t reply, his expression darkened. He levered farther away from her as if to leave, and she tightened her grip on his shirt.
“Pen?” He angled his head, clearly trying to read her.
“I...need more time.” Her heart thrashed in her chest like a wild animal tangled in a snare. She felt trapped, caught between loyalty to Andrew and a years-old lust for Reid. Factoring in the mind-numbing twists her life had taken, her father’s deceit and the foggy road that was her future, how could she know what was right? For both her and Nicholas, because she had to put her son’s needs at the top of her considerations.
Reid bowed his head briefly, his disappointment plain. “More time. Right. Because we’ve only known each other for fifteen some odd years. Been friends for seven.”
“Andrew—”
“Has been gone for over a year,” he finished for her, his voice noticeably tighter. Pain flashed in his eyes, and he shoved away from her. “All right. I promised to respect your choice, and I will.”
Freed of his weight and warmth, a stark chill sliced through her. Confusion or not, she didn’t want to be without him. She did desire him, value the protection he offered, appreciate his friendship.
“Wait!” she cried before he could rise from the couch. She sat up, shifting her legs under her to kneel on the cushion beside him. “Reid, I’m still sorting out my feelings, but I want...” Her throat tightened. “I need...”
He arched an eyebrow to indicate he was listening, waiting.
She drew a slow breath, her body quivering from the inside out. She threaded her fingers through the hair near his ear before cupping the back of his head and drawing him close. “This...” she whispered as she slanted her mouth over his.
Her kiss was tentative at first, testing the reality of a dream she’d had since she was a teenager. Her body hummed its approval, her blood rushing to her head and to her most intimate places.
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