That was touching. It was. But... “I feel fine. Really!”
That was when Tansy gave Danny a poke. I couldn’t tell if the actress had overheard us. “I’m spending the night with Josh,” she said with a lift of her chin. “You’re not invited.”
Beside her, Josh cuddled Tansy on the hayride bench. He seemed thrilled with her decision. Warily, Danny studied them.
I couldn’t help thinking that this was awfully convenient. At the same time, Tansy was a grown woman. She’d hired Danny.
She could give him the night off at her discretion.
My pal shrugged. “You’re the client. It’s up to you.”
Danny had already told me that Tansy was one of his “lookie-loo” clients. He didn’t think she genuinely needed protection. The actress had essentially confessed as much to me, too.
“Whatever we do, we’d better hurry up about it,” Josh put in as the hayride lurched down the street. “The ride’s ending.”
I saw that it was. We were nearing the Sproutes town common, where the hayride had kicked off. A short while ago, the area had been packed with shoppers, Christmas lights viewers, and children begging their parents for candy canes and chocolate Santas. Now it was almost empty. Cradling the cat, with my tote bag full of borrowed cat supplies at my feet, I shivered in the cold.
Danny didn’t notice. He was busy giving Tansy a warning look.
For her part, the bombshell laughed him off. “Danny! It’s fine.” She clung to Josh’s arm. “You can’t tell me you haven’t already researched Josh. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
She had a point. I had to lift my estimation of Tansy’s intelligence. Danny was always hypervigilant while working.
“You’ll call me if anything happens,” he told Tansy firmly. It was emphatically not a suggestion. “Anything at all.”
“Well, not anything.” Tansy tittered. “I like my privacy!”
“I can be there in twenty minutes,” Danny reiterated.
“Wow. You’re relentless,” I joked as the hayride stopped moving. “Remind me not to hire your security services anytime soon.”
“You don’t have to pay.” Danny gave me an unreadable look. Those were his stock-in-trade. “You’re always covered.”
Travis would have said that was obvious, since Danny was on a semipermanent retainer as my (sometime) bodyguard. But I knew there was more to it than that. There was friendship, above all.
So, just for the night, I decided to let friendship take the forefront. For the first time in a long while, I relaxed.
“I’m in your hands,” I told Danny truthfully.
Then we all parted ways before the blizzard encroached.
Nineteen
There was something comforting about letting go. Since arriving in Sproutes, I’d been on my guard, watching for danger, alert to any chance that a killer might be tracking me.
That night, as I unlocked my B&B room to let in myself and Danny, I finally felt (somewhat) at ease. Ever since I’d discovered Melissa’s body, I’d been creeping inside my room, hitting the light switch to illuminate the place as fully as possible, then examining it for signs of intruders. I’d been tense and alert, steeling myself for a potential fight.
I didn’t creep in or tense up that night. But Danny could tell what I’d been going through anyway. He noticed the B and B–logoed umbrella I’d stashed in the miniscule foyer, moments before I reached for it—one handed—on autopilot while holding the cat.
“Expecting rain?” he asked with a quirk of his mouth.
“Just being cautious.” I left the umbrella where it stood.
“You might do better hurling the cat at any intruders,” my friend added jokingly, but his gaze seemed to approve. He noted the heavy lamp I’d moved from the bedside table to the credenza, which was closer at hand. “The lamp is a solid idea, though.”
I nodded, then realized, “Hey, my headache is almost gone.”
“That’s a good sign.” Danny pushed the door shut, then secured all the locks. He studied my room, seemed to find it acceptably safe, then grabbed one of my boxes of improvised chocolate “products.” Fudge packets rained onto the desk.
“Hey! What are you doing? I’m going to need those.”
“I’m taking care of the cat.” He put the empty box on the floor, stuffed in a hand towel, then eased the cat from my arms.
I watched as he got her settled with water and kibble and the foil litter box nearby. His efficiency was impressive.
“How do you even know how to do all that?” I asked him. As far as I knew, Danny had never owned a cat. Or any pet.
A shrug. “It’s not exactly genius territory, now is it?”
Outside, the winter wind howled. I heard the icy snow scour the lighted windowpanes. We’d beaten the blizzard by moments.
As though reminding me that we’d tempted fate by coming all the way from Sproutes to the relatively remote B and B, the lights flickered. Danny lit both of my travel-size bedside candles.
The sweet aromas of fig and cloves wafted into the air.
“You’re pretty handy in a crisis,” I told him.
But I’d already known that. One of the things I like most about Danny is his willingness to put himself on the line for people. He might seem like a tough guy, but deep down, he cares.
He frowned at me. “Now you should get some rest.”
I laughed. “It’s nine o’clock.” The Christmas lights–viewing hayride had started promptly as soon as it got dark. We’d enjoyed one of its earliest excursions. “I’m not ready for bed.”
But we would need entertainment, and the B&B wasn’t a hotbed of nightlife. Looking for something to keep us busy, I dropped my gaze to the minibar. Its contents looked tempting.
“Feel like a drink?” I asked as I took off all my warm winter gear. “I already have eggnog stashed in the mini-fridge.”
“You’re not drinking with a concussion.”
“I feel fine. Besides, that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a nightcap.” I realized he would need to get back to the Sproutes Motor Lodge later and relented. “Maybe some straight-up eggnog instead? That’s driver friendly.”
Danny had gone to the window. He studied the weather.
I studied him. He’d shucked his coat, hat, and gloves. His dark hair was mussed just a bit, staticky from his knit hat. That imperfection lent him a slightly less intimidating air.
I smiled, thinking of all the good times we’d shared.
“I’m not driving anywhere in this weather.” He turned, his muscular frame covered in a sweatshirt and his ubiquitous jeans. He raised his eyebrow. “Is it a problem if I stay here?”
“Of course not.” I waved. “Please, you take the sofa.”
He grinned. “And you’ll have the big, comfy bed?”
“It’s my room. Besides, you’re man enough to handle it.”
Feeling lighthearted, I got busy pouring a pair of eggnogs for us and suggested a few holiday movies we could watch on the B and B’s TV. I presented him with one of the glasses, then offered him a toast. “It won’t be the wildest night we’ve ever spent together,” I admitted, “but our options are limited. Cheers!”
Danny didn’t toast back. “Our options aren’t limited.”
I felt confused. “You just said we’re basically stranded.”
“That’s not a problem.” He took the eggnog from my hand, then set it beside his on my room’s desk. I protested, but my longtime friend made a face. “Eggnog tastes terrible. It’s like getting socks for Christmas instead of a new video game. I’ll pass.” He came closer to me. “No need for a movie, either.”
“Not even something short? How the Grinch Stole Christmas!”
That was his favorite. I’d known that for years.
Another smile. “Not even the Grinch. Not tonight.”
“Huh. Well, I’m stumped for what to do, then.”
“I’m not.” Danny lowered his gaze to my lips.
Aha.
I started getting his drift. It was . . . dangerous. I took an automatic step backward, giving myself room to think clearly.
He followed me, scrambling my thoughts anyway. “Are you sure this won’t be the wildest night we’ve ever spent together?”
Even as he asked that, his hooded gaze suggested it might be. It might be wild between us in a way it hadn’t been—not for a few years now, not since we’d agreed to keep things platonic.
But tonight wild was on the table. I already knew it would be good between us. After all, a lack of satisfaction wasn’t the reason I’d stopped being with Danny. An excess of caution was.
I didn’t want to endanger our friendship. Or my heart.
I recognized his invitation for what it was. Somehow, I found a way to shake my head. “You know that’s a bad idea.”
I can’t say I wasn’t tempted, though. Between the romantic ambiance in my B and B’s Christmassy room and the attractiveness of the man who was about to share it with me for the night, I felt very tempted.
“Is it?” Danny closed the distance between us. “It doesn’t feel like a bad idea.” He brought his hands to my jaw. He cradled my face, then lifted his gaze to mine. “I was worried about you today,” he confessed. “Seeing you like that—” He broke off, then closed his eyes. “I should have been there for you.”
I wanted to reassure him. To remind him I felt fine. But all I could do, instead, was feel. I felt his thumbs, callused but gentle; his fingers, familiar and inviting. Seductive.
If you think I wasn’t wooed, you’re wrong. I was.
I resisted by closing my eyes, too, just the same way Danny had done. For only a few seconds. I reminded myself of all the reasons it would be foolhardy to take this step again.
I thought of all the reasons it would be amazing, too.
When I opened my eyes, Danny was watching me. Waiting. For a long moment, we shared the same breath. Then I looked away.
“We can’t,” I finally said in a rush. “Travis would—”
“Know,” I was about to say. He’d be disappointed, was my next fuzzy thought. But before I could voice any of that, Danny’s mouth was on mine. I couldn’t think of anything at all.
He kissed me as though he really had been worried about me today—as though he’d worried about me all the months I’d been sleuthing around, semi-recklessly endangering myself in the process. I’d been hurt a few times. I’d been in genuine danger.
I’d never wanted more to forget about all of it.
Danny caught me in his fierce gaze. “This isn’t about Travis,” he told me. “It’s about you and me. That’s it.”
Travis? Not Harvard? A joke occurred to me, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of it just then. I could tell that Danny was about to move in for another kiss. I had a moment to refuse. But the first one had been so good that I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Instead, I grabbed two fistfuls of Danny’s sweatshirt and pulled myself against him. This time, I kissed him.
This time, it was even better. How had I ever stopped?
I wanted more, and I took it. I didn’t care if it was dangerous. I ran after danger these days, didn’t I? Wasn’t that part of what had changed about me? I was braver now. I embraced every risk.
If there was a bigger risk than Danny, I didn’t know what it was. So I murmured something seductive, and I smiled with satisfaction at the husky sound he made in response, and I used those handfuls of sweatshirt I’d grabbed to yank even higher.
Seconds before I pulled off Danny’s shirt, all the lights went out. The blizzard must have gotten worse, I realized.
In the flickering, insufficient glow of my travel-size candles, Danny smiled at me. “Too bad. I wanted to see you.”
“You’ll see me,” I promised. I’d make sure of it.
“Not in this light, I won’t. Not well enough.” He rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing raggedly. His dark gaze lifted to mine. “This is really happening?”
“So far, so good,” I acknowledged, but that was all the talking I wanted to do. Unlike Danny, I had no interest in being clearheaded. Not then. Maybe not for a long time to come.
I felt gripped by urgency. Not just because of what was happening between us, but also because I knew how easily it could be shattered. A phone call, a knock on the door . . . even, at that point, the lights coming back on could do it.
When would we have another chance like this?
“Keep talking, and I’ll break out the eggnog again,” I warned with a grin. I took Danny’s hand and headed for the bed.
Even as I moved in that direction, I worried that something would happen. I’d trip on the rug. Danny would get an urgent message from Tansy. Donna’s cat would wake up and distract us.
But nothing interrupted. The B&B was silent, and so was I.
So was Danny, it occurred to me. Alarmed, I looked at him.
Elaborately, he pantomimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. He was always kidding. I’d told him to be quiet.
The threat of eggnog had accomplished something that few things ever had. I smiled over the realization, then squeezed his hand. It was about to get real between us. I might not even bother getting either of us fully undressed first, I decided.
For the next several hours, there would be no risk of me or Danny making Santa’s nice list, that was for sure. I intended to keep us both on the naughty slate, at least until morning.
* * *
I awoke with my head aching, startled awake by . . . what?
I jolted upright, tangled in the bedclothes, unsure where I was or what I was doing. Sleeping was what I’d have preferred.
Muzzy-headed, thanks to my old friend jet lag, I frowned. I took in the darkened room. Aha. The B&B in Sproutes. Of course. I was spending Christmas in Massachusetts with Travis and Danny.
Danny. Everything came rushing back to me, including the preceding few hours. I momentarily forgot whatever had awakened me, and looked down at myself, awash in a thousand divergent feelings. I looked over at Danny, sprawled beside me on the mattress. All my feelings became ten times more complicated.
Typically alert, Danny cracked open one eye. “You okay?”
“I heard something.”
“The B and B’s front door. Go back to sleep.”
But I was already far too awake for that. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” came the mumbled response.
“Some night, huh?” I wanted to make sure we were okay. For us to remain friends, we had to carefully work through this.
No, I’m not spelling out what this is, precisely. Suffice it to say that things got pretty heated for a while.
Danny sat up, then ran his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. “We agreed,” he reminded me huskily. “This doesn’t have to be weird between us.”
“That’s funny,” I observed interestedly. “When you’re half asleep, your voice is almost as deep and husky as Travis’s is.”
That did it. “All right, now it’s weird.” A scowl.
“Sorry! Just thinking out loud.” I climbed out of bed, then went to my room’s window, aware the whole time of Danny’s gaze fixed on my bare legs . . . and maybe more. I pulled down my shirt.
That was as good as a minidress, right? No problem.
“I’m sure I heard something,” I insisted, taking a look.
Outside, the B and B’s grounds were more snow covered than ever. A fresh blanket of white had cloaked the whole place. At the moment, though, everything was still. Almost spookily still.
You might have guessed by now that I’d been kidding about making six-foot-plus Danny sleep on my room’s miniscule sofa. It wasn’t the first time we’d shared a bed, platonically or not.
“You were dreaming,” Danny told me in the darkness.
I smiled. It felt very much as though I had been. Also, as soon as I had that thought, I couldn’t be sure that wasn’t all it had been. Just a dream. I did have that mild co
ncussion to think about. Maybe, it occurred to me, it wasn’t entirely healed.
“Was I?” I decided to play along while I looked around.
“Must have been a good dream, though.” There was a smile in Danny’s voice. “Judging by all the moaning that was going on.”
“Well, I don’t dream like ordinary people. I go all the way,” I boasted nonsensically. “If you’re going to do something, you might as well do it up right. That’s my philosophy.”
“Hmm.” His throaty rumble left me wondering what he was thinking. “Good philosophy. How’s that working out for you?”
“Pretty well so far.” I strived to keep my tone light, so Danny wouldn’t guess that I was seriously starting to wonder.
Exactly what had happened between us a few hours ago?
I couldn’t ask him. Of course I couldn’t. Whether we had been indiscreet and impulsive—or whether we hadn’t—I knew that Danny would follow my lead in handling the aftermath. If we’d gotten frisky, he’d want me to feel comfortable. If we’d put on the brakes, the same theory applied. That meant that, short of out-and-out interrogating him, I couldn’t know for certain.
I thought we’d stopped in time, before anything serious had happened. At least that was my (admittedly) hazy impression.
Before I could figure out anything for sure, I glimpsed movement outside my window. I glanced at the bedside clock to gauge the time and saw that it was almost two in the morning.
Into the hushed stillness of the B and B’s front yard, someone stepped outside. I recognized her faux-fur-trimmed coat and pompon-topped hat, worn with mittens and a lot of lip gloss.
Ophelia. Albany’s little sister flounced into the snow, her pretty face and long dark hair lit by the Christmas lights that again illuminated the yard. She stopped below one of the B and B’s old-fashioned wrought-iron lamps and gazed expectantly toward the front door. Despite the late hour, Ophelia didn’t seem the least bit sleepy. In fact, she seemed downright effervescent.
An instant later, Zach Johnson emerged, dressed in warm winter wear like Ophelia. My B and B’s host moved with much less vivacity than she had, though. In fact, he seemed to creep toward Ophelia, as though he were in pursuit of her. He held something behind his back—something I couldn’t see clearly.
The Peppermint Mocha Murder Page 23