by Julie Miller
Okay. So that wasn’t suspicious. He eyed the navy wool coat where the letter had disappeared. If that was some kind of threat... “Everything okay?”
“What? Oh.” She pulled her lime-green scarf from the pile and folded it neatly on top of the coat, burying the missive beneath another layer. Right. So they were back to her keeping secrets and suffering on her own when he knew damn well he could help. “It’s Tyler’s letter to Santa. He said he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus anymore but that he wrote the letter for my sake. I’ve always sent one out for him...mostly so I can read it and see what’s tops on his wish list.”
It was a plausible explanation for the frown between her brows. “That’s a hard transition to go through the year they stop believing in the magic and hope of Christmas.”
The frown eased a tad and she leaned toward him so they could talk without their voices carrying up to the stage. “He’s still got plenty of hope, judging by the extent of that wish list. But other than some bad grammar, he sounds...” She sank back against the chair on a whispery sigh. “In a lot of ways he’s still my little boy. But in some ways he’s growing up way too fast.”
Trent stretched out and slipped a friendly arm across the back of her seat. “That growing-up stuff is inevitable. You do know that, right, Mom?”
She gave his ribs a teasing tap with her fist. “I know. And it certainly beats the alternative.” That brief glimpse of a smile quickly faded. “When I think of some of those cases I’ve read through this year, like that missing teenage girl and baby—like my friend Whitney back in high school—I know we’re lucky to be here. But I can’t help thinking I’ve cheated him somehow, that I haven’t given him everything he needs, that he feels he has to be all grown-up to take care of me. He doesn’t, of course. But maybe he doesn’t believe that I can take care of him.”
“You’re a terrific mom, and he knows that. All little boys want to try on being a man for a while, especially when they know they’ve got someone there to back them up in case the experiment isn’t as exciting or safe as they thought it would be.” Trent dropped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side in a friendly hug. “Tomorrow, he’ll be a kid again. I promise.” When she leaned against him, her fresh-as-a-daisy scent drew his lips to her hair and he pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Don’t do that.” Her hand at his chest pushed him away and she sat forward in her seat, moving away from the touch of his arm, as well. “If Tyler sees, I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about us.”
“The wrong idea?” Well, hell. “That peck was just a show of support between friends. A woman is damn well gonna know when I intend my kiss to mean something more.”
She turned with a surprised gasp. “Trent, I didn’t mean to insult—”
He put up his hand to silence her apology. Yet when his gaze fell on the naturally rosy tint of her lips and lingered, the spike of resentment firing through his blood blended with a yearning he hadn’t acknowledged in years. She shouldn’t draw that pretty mouth into such a tightly controlled line, and he shouldn’t have this urge to ease it back into a smile beneath his own lips. Maybe he had crossed a line without realizing it. Because, right now, every male cell in his body was wishing for a little privacy so he could kiss her just once the way he’d always longed to. But he hadn’t had the skills as a teenager, and as an adult he didn’t have the permission to even try.
For a long time now, he’d imagined if they could share one real, passionate kiss, he’d find out that this desire simmering in his blood was just the remnants of a teenage fantasy. He’d discover the spark wasn’t really there. He and Katie would share a laugh over the awkward encounter, and he’d finally be able to get this useless attraction out of his system. Inhaling a cautionary breath, Trent pulled his hand back to rest on the arm of the seat, letting his shoulder form the barricade she wanted between them.
“It won’t happen again.” At least, he hoped he could keep that promise. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize my friendship with you or Tyler.”
But as Trent faced the stage again, adjusting his long legs in the narrow space between the rows of seats, his eyes were drawn to the show’s director, Doug Price. The pacing had stopped and the older man’s dark eyes were trained on the seats where he and Katie sat. Tyler wasn’t the only one she needed to worry about seeing and misinterpreting a quick kiss.
So, did the temperamental artiste simply dislike the hushed tones of a whispered argument near the back of the theater interfering with him watching his play? Or was there something more personal in the territorial sneer he aimed at Trent and Katie? Did this guy have a thing for Katie?
The flare of jealousy was fleeting, there to acknowledge but quickly dismiss. If there was one thing Trent understood about Katie Lee Rinaldi, it was that it wasn’t him she was loath to have a relationship with. She didn’t want a relationship with any man.
There was no competition here. Trent acknowledged the man’s displeasure with a nod and scrunched down in his seat in an unspoken assurance that he wouldn’t disrupt the rehearsal again.
But there were even curiouser things afoot when he noticed the Grim Reaper wannabe onstage repeatedly tugging on his mask, using the adjustment of his costume to peer out at the director. And, though it was impossible to track the exact direction of the actor’s glare beneath the black hood and mask, Trent would bet money that the guy was taking note of Doug Price’s interest in Katie, too.
Trent leaned his head toward Katie and whispered, “Who’s the guy onstage?”
She guessed he wasn’t talking about Mr. Scrooge. “Christmas Future is Francis Sergel. I made his costume. He’s probably getting ready to complain about something that itches or doesn’t fit him.” She finally relaxed and settled back into the seat beside him. “He’s good at that.”
“Complaining?”
“Oh, yes.” He grinned at the subtle sarcasm that bled into her tone. Although it still rankled that she would have such a strong reaction to that innocent kiss, Trent appreciated her attempt to return them to their normal footing with each other. He wasn’t about to completely drop his guard and relax, though, not with the director and twitchy man onstage each sliding them curious looks. “So what’s on Tyler’s list? You know I like to get the little guy a present every year.”
He felt the momentary stiffening in her shoulder where it brushed against his, but she didn’t try any awkward evasion of the question this time. “A bunch of video and computer games. I’ll give you a list. And a dog. If I’m not careful, he’s going to run away from home and move in with you now that you’re fostering Padre. That’s his dog. In his nine-year-old brain, anyway. He barely talks about anything else.”
“You know I’ve got two extra bedrooms at my house. And a fenced-in yard. Tyler is welcome to come over to visit anytime. They can play outside. That dog loves jumping and snuffling around in the snow. I think the cold in his nose makes him a little hyper. He needs somebody Tyler’s age who can keep up with him. Heck, maybe I’ll even put Ty to work picking up Padre’s messes in the backyard.”
Katie laughed out loud, then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth when Doug Price swung around to glare at her again. She quickly dropped her voice back to a whisper. “Do it. That’d be the reality check Ty needs to understand that owning a pet is a lot of work and responsibility. It’s not just the landlord’s rules or me being mean.”
“I’ll make the offer.”
“Douglas!” Trent sat up straight when Francis Sergel jerked the black hood off the back of his head and stepped out of character and walked to the edge of the stage. “I can’t work like this.”
For a split second, Trent instinctively went on the defensive, worrying that his accusatory whine was targeted at Katie. It wasn’t until he felt her hands through the thick sleeve of his coat that he realized he’d thrown his arm out in front of her.
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br /> Now, that was a look that warned him he’d overstepped the boundaries between them again.
Francis pulled the mask off his face and shook it at the director. “This needs another elastic strap sewn in. It keeps shifting on my face and I can’t see.”
Doug Price turned his face toward the catwalk near the ceiling and griped, “Spare me from working with these dime-store divas,” while the actor playing Ebenezer muttered something similar. Then the director swung around and snapped his fingers. “Katie. Grab your sewing kit and take care of that.”
The squeeze of her hands around his forearm kept Trent from answering back about talking to her in that dictatorial tone. Apparently, Katie hadn’t been singled out, because the director used the same tone with the actor onstage. “Give your mask to one of the crew, Francis, and finish the scene.”
“I need the mask to get into my character.” The bearded man with black circles drawn around his eyes needed more than that Grim Reaper robe and makeup to get his creepy on?
“All you have to do is hit your blocking marks and point. Rise to the challenge.” Doug gestured to the temperamental actor, then turned again. “Katie? Sooner rather than later, if you would. I’m trying to get an accurate running time on the show tonight.”
“My sewing kit is in my bag in the greenroom.”
“Then get it.” His gaze slid past her to Trent. “And this is a closed rehearsal. Tell your boyfriend to buy a ticket if he wants to watch.”
That’s it. The need to stand up to that idiot jolted through Trent’s legs. But Katie’s hand on his shoulder and a warning look kept him in his seat. She stood and beamed a smile at the director. “He already has.”
Trent could have choked on the honey dripping from her voice, but the sweetly veiled retort seemed to appease Mr. Price. With a nod to Katie, the director turned back to the actors onstage. “All right. Let’s take it back from your entrance, Francis.”
He hissed a whisper behind her back as she moved in front of him toward the aisle. “So kissing you on the head is off-limits, but letting your director think I’m your boyfriend is okay?”
“That’s Doug’s interpretation, not mine. He saw your picture with Tyler on my computer and...” She looked down at him, her mouth twisted with another apology. “I didn’t correct his mistake. Misleading Tyler is one thing. But sometimes, Doug is a little friendlier than I—”
“How friendly? Someday you’re going to have to explain the rules—”
“Mom?”
Trent heard the loud whisper from the corner of the stage and peeked around Katie to see Tyler’s smudged face peering from the edge of the heavy velvet curtain. The tiny dimple of a frown appeared between his feathery eyebrows, reminding him of Katie when she was stewing over a problem. Had he heard Price yelling at her? Had he seen the two of them arguing? Did he think he needed to protect his mama?
“Douglas? Now I have to deal with this?” When Mr. Death up there pointed to the little boy showing his face onstage, Trent shot to his feet, grabbing Katie on either side of her waist and moving her to his side. If he turned that snooty temper on Tyler...
But Katie Lee Rinaldi had already made it clear she could protect her son her own self, thank you, very much. “It’s okay,” she said in full voice. She stayed Trent’s charge to her defense with a hand at the middle of his chest. She nodded to the actors and stopped the director before he could open his mouth. Then she curled her thumb and finger into an okay sign and winked to her son. “I’ll be right there.”
When she tapped either corner of her mouth and modeled a smile for him, Tyler’s moment of concern disappeared and he smiled back at her. The boy smiled at Trent and thrust his hand out at waist level, sneaking a not-so-subtle wave to him. Trent put his fingers to his forehead and returned a salute, offering his own reassurance that the child didn’t need to worry about his mom or anyone else while he was here.
As quickly as he’d popped out, Tyler disappeared behind the curtain.
“And this hobby is fun for you?” Trent dipped his chin to meet Katie’s whispered thanks.
“The creative part of it is. But on this production, some of the people...” Katie’s gaze shifted back and forth between Price and Sergel. “Not so much. But don’t go all alpha on me. I can handle Doug and Francis. I already know how to deal with children.”
His throat vibrated with a chuckle at her sarcasm. “Yeah, but yours behaves better.”
Her fingers tangled together with his in a quick squeeze. “Duty calls. Thanks for stopping by. I know Tyler is happy to have you here to watch him. Although I think you make him a little nervous.”
Trent tightened his grip to stop her as she scooted past him, surprised at the admission. “I do? I don’t mean to. The whole team is coming to opening night. Will he be okay with that?”
She smiled away his concern. “Relax. Having a few nerves onstage is a good thing. Seeing you will keep him on his toes. He wants to do a good job for you.”
Katie made it impossible not to smile back. “Tyler’s always first-string in my book.”
“He knows that.”
“Katie!” Doug yelled. “I need this fixed before the next scene.” Trent released Katie’s hand and straightened to all six feet five inches of irritated man before shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the back of his seat, making it clear without saying a word that he was staying and that the lashing out at her needed to stop. The director seemed to rethink whom he could push around by adding a succinctly articulate, “If you please.”
“Trent...” She knew what he was doing.
“Go on. I’m doing this very beta style, I promise. I’m just going to sit here until the show’s done so I can give Tyler my critical opinion.”
“And make sure these guys mind their manners?”
“It’s what a boyfriend would do, isn’t it?” Trent doffed her a salute, too. He also intended to be here to walk her to her car after rehearsal was done and to make sure nothing weird happened tonight. He folded his big body into the seat as if it was the most comfortable chair in the world. “I know Tyler will be my favorite thing about the play.”
“Thank you.” She turned into the aisle and hurried down to the stage.
Frankly, he wouldn’t put up with the bossy overlord and the whiny string bean onstage. But he was here to support Katie and Tyler, not to audition or volunteer backstage for anything himself. All the more reason to find out who had trapped her in the theater and separated her from her son last night. If it was just one of these bozos trying to intimidate her, his presence could put a stop to that. And if it was something more sinister, then the scene of the crime was the best place to look for the answers Katie wouldn’t give him.
Like what was in a letter to Santa that could upset her like that?
Once Katie took the mask from the stagehand and disappeared behind the curtain, Trent reached across the empty seat into her coat and pulled out the letter that had dented a worried frown on her smooth forehead. If that story had all been a lie and it was some kind of threat related to last night, and she didn’t think she needed to tell him, then... He read the addressee on the envelope out loud. She hadn’t lied. “Santa Claus?”
He pulled out the crumpled letter and smoothed it against the thigh of his jeans before reading.
Dear Santa,
I think you might not be real. My friend Wyatt says that his mom is Santa Claus but I know you are not a girl. I’m writing this letter just in case because Jack says your real, and because Mom asked me to write you a letter and it makes her happy when I do what she says. If you do come by on Christmas Eve, I want a dog, a cell phone, the action figures from the movie I saw this summer, gamer cards and a dad. Uncle Dwight is fun to do stuff with, but he is cousin Jack’s dad. Jack is in second grade at my school and is fun to play with. Jack’s not really m
y cousin, but it’s weird to have an uncle younger than me and Dwight’s more like a grandpa. Mom says our family dynamite is complicated. I want a dad who can play baseball and computer games, but I don’t want him to be so good that he beats me all the time. Mom won’t let me play any battle games, but I like the racing games and the ones where you have to collect stuff and get speshul powers. I found a dog named Padre at rehersal. He can be mine if you want. If you can catch him. He likes peanut-butter sandwiches. A dad with a dog would be the best.
Your friend,
Tyler Rinaldi
PS: I live in an apartment, so you will have to come in the front door because we don’t have a chimney. I can leave it unlocked.
PSS: Jack wants a racing car set and boxing mitts.
PSSS: I don’t want one of those little girlie dogs with a bow in her hair.
A dad? Tyler had asked Santa for a dad? No wonder Katie had fretted over the letter. There were at least two things on this list she couldn’t give her son, and that had to be difficult for a single mom who wanted to give the world to her child. And yeah, Tyler did sound a little like a cynical grown-up in a couple places. But this was still the voice of a little boy speaking from his heart.
Trent felt a few sentimental pangs pulling on his heart, too. He’d known Tyler since the boy was an infant and his neighbor Maddie McCallister—now married to DA Dwight Powers—had taken the rescued baby in to care for him until she and Dwight had tracked down the missing Katie and broken up that illegal adoption ring.
The illegal adoption ring headed by Craig Fairfax.
Craig Fairfax, the man who’d ordered the murder of their high school classmate Whitney Chiles. The man who’d tried to kill Katie, and Maddie and Dwight, too.
Craig Fairfax, the man who shared a prison infirmary with reputed mob boss Leland Asher, the prime suspect in several of the unsolved cases their team was investigating.
If Katie’s thoughts had taken the same dark trail, then she was probably more worried, unsure and afraid than she was letting on.