by Rita Herron
She was ecstatic to find that the sewing machine in the attic worked, so she quilted placemats from scraps of red and green fabric. CeCe needed a project, so they made a Christmas tree for the table using Styrofoam balls they found in the attic, decorating the balls with paint, glitter, buttons, and rickrack.
Although they worked in the mornings, they took the afternoons to play. A picnic by the creek led to wading. Even though the water was chilly, CeCe splashed and jumped up and down with excitement.
They collected small stones that had turned smooth from the water and painted them red and green, then crafted a wreath for the front door, adding fresh greenery from the farm and a holly bush growing beside the house.
Mitch had repaired and painted the front porch, so they decorated it with more fresh holly leaves and berries. The craft store had a sale on Christmas cards and wooden ornaments that CeCe could paint herself and decorate with glitter, and they spent hours making those. Kaylie showed CeCe how to cut out the pictures on the holiday cards, then they strung them with red ribbon.
It was the nicest few days Kaylie had had since her husband’s death because CeCe was smiling and happy again.
Not that there weren’t tense moments. Moments where she felt as if someone was watching them. Days where she sensed that their reprieve might be running out.
Days where she and Mitch crossed paths, and the tension between them mounted. He started painting in the upstairs, so she and CeCe had shared a bed, alternating rooms while the other room dried. The den took another day, but the kitchen, with its nooks and crannies, took the longest.
He had kept his distance since that first meeting, had steered clear of her and CeCe to the point where she felt as if he was avoiding them.
That distance relieved her, but at the same time, she found herself yearning to have a conversation with him again. To see the tenderness in his expression when he looked at her daughter.
But when he rode up on Horseshoe and saw the porch and front door decorated, his expression turned dark as if he disapproved of the festive decorations.
CeCe bounced up from the porch and waved to him. “Hey, Mr. Mitch. See the bows Mommy and I made.”
Mitch glanced at CeCe’s hand where she held a string of red bows, his jaw tight. “You weren’t kidding about decorating?”
“We gots to so Santa’ll know where to find me,” CeCe said innocently.
Mitch’s fingers tightened around the reins. “You don’t plan on going to your own house for Christmas, Kat?”
Kaylie gritted her teeth, a lie forming on her lips. “We sold our house after my husband passed. CeCe and I are traveling for a while until we decide where we want to settle.” One thing she’d learned while hiding was to keep as close to the truth as possible.
Get too detailed with the lies, and it was easy to get tangled up in them.
“Have you decided?” he asked gruffly.
Kaylie glanced across the ranch, the memories she’d made her with her daughter tearing at her. She wished she could buy this place for her and CeCe and stay here forever.
But wishing did no good when they might have to pick up and run any second.
Mitch couldn’t miss the longing on Kat’s face as she gazed across his ranch. He dismounted, moved by the fact that she appreciated the land. Sally had never looked at the farmhouse or ranch the way Kat and her daughter did.
Sally had hated the isolation, the smell of the barn, the rundown property and furniture she considered country and outdated. She’d wanted a condo in Austin with chrome and glass, and nights at museums with fancy dinners and expensive champagne.
There was no way in hell she would have made placemats from scraps or a Styrofoam tree for the table, or polished and cleaned every inch of the house herself.
She’d hated the antiques that had belonged to his grandmother and suggested they throw everything out, including the sewing machine Kat had been so excited to find.
Kat reminded him of his grandmother who’d doted on kids, liked baking and gardening, and loved working alongside his grandfather on the ranch.
But seeing Kat and CeCe inside the house also made him feel guilty. His son should be sleeping in the bedroom, wading in the creek and riding Horseshoe.
He still hadn’t given CeCe a ride, but she asked him every day.
Emotions welled in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He’d played along with Kat’s lies for the past few days, but he didn’t think he could stand to have her and her daughter in the house on Christmas Day.
Not when Todd should be here hanging his stocking and waking up to Santa.
“I’ll work on the downstairs bathroom in the morning,” he said, then turned to CeCe. The persistent little kid wasn’t going to give up until he gave her that riding lesson. Might as well get it over with. “How about I let you ride Horseshoe tomorrow after lunch?”
“Really?” CeCe held her breath, melting Mitch’s heart.
“Really.”
“Yippee!” CeCe raced down the porch steps and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs.
Pain ricocheted through Mitch’s heart so deeply that his legs felt weak. But he managed an awkward pat on her back.
When he looked up at Kat, he thought he saw tears glimmering in her eyes. Compassion for her mushroomed inside him.
She and the kid had lost the man they loved. If he understood one thing, it was grief.
But if they were simply moving around in search of a new home, why the fake ID in her bag?
Mitch forced a smile. “That is if your mother says it’s okay,” he told CeCe.
CeCe tugged at Kat’s arm. “It’s okay, right, Mommy? Please, please say it’s okay.”
Kat licked her lips, the sun glinting off her golden blonde hair. Mitch couldn’t help but be drawn to her sea blue eyes, eyes that looked torn over what to say as if it had been a long time since she’d had a break and someone had been nice to her.
But that flicker of wariness darkened the mood.
“We’ll do it here in the horse pen so you can watch her every minute,” Mitch said, sensing he needed to reassure her he had no ill intentions.
Kat gave a small nod, then squeezed CeCe’s shoulder. “Yes, honey, that’s fine.”
“Once you get the hang of handling Horseshoe, maybe we can all take a ride across the ranch,” Mitch said. “There’s a pond on the west side.”
CeCe reached up to pet Horseshoe’s head. “Did you hear that, buddy? I get to ride you tomorrow, and Mr. Mitch is gonna show us the pond!”
Kat looked hesitant again, her expression wary. “Thanks for the offer,” she said. “We’ll see. I still have a lot to do here.”
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “What else? You’ve cleaned everything. The house looks like it’s ready to show.”
“I thought I’d make some curtains for the room where CeCe’s sleeping.”
Mitch tensed. He’d stripped the comforter and curtains Sally had put up because Todd had never liked them. He and Sally had argued about his room more than once. Todd wanted a horse theme but Sally had denied him.
Could he allow this stranger in his house to decorate his son’s room the way she wanted?
He rubbed his hand over his pocket where he’d put the fingerprint sample he’d taken from the coffee mug Kat had been drinking from that morning. He had to know who she was before things went any further.
He forced himself to back away. He’d take the print to the lab and find out the truth.
Already the little girl was hacking at his shattered heart. And her mother’s vulnerable expression roused protective instincts he had no business feeling for a woman who was lying to him.
For a woman who might be a criminal.
Kaylie watched Mitch ride away, willing her heart to stop fluttering. What was wrong with her?
She h
ad loved her husband dearly. He was the only man she’d ever been with.
But this big, tough cowboy aroused feelings inside her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. A longing and sexual need that had been missing from her life.
Truth be told, Joe had lost interest in lovemaking the last two years of their marriage. He’d been preoccupied with business and had shut down emotionally, creating a chasm that she hadn’t been able to breach.
Guilt swamped her for even thinking about this stranger when Joe had been murdered.
“Mommy, I get to ride Horseshoe!” CeCe danced across the grass, skipping and twirling. “I get to ride Horseshoe!”
Kat smiled, grateful Mitch had agreed to give her daughter a riding lesson, but vowing not to let herself even dream about a friendship with the sexy man. There was no use getting attached to him when nothing could come of it but heartache
When getting attached to him might endanger his life.
Mitch rode Horseshoe back to the stable, unsaddled and brushed him down and put him in the barn to rest for the next day. Weary, he climbed in his SUV and drove to the crime lab.
A half hour later, he poked his head into the office of his friend Sergeant Jonas Walker.
Jonas’s eyes shot up. “Mitch? This is a surprise.”
Mitch gritted his teeth. His friends had tried to reach out after his wife’s and son’s deaths, but he’d literally shoved them away with a fist.
Jonas stood and extended his hand. “Sorry, man. I should have said it’s good to see you back.”
“I’m not back,” Mitch said. Not officially anyway.
“But you’re sober,” Jonas said.
Leave it to his friend to call it like it was. “Yeah, today I am.”
“One day at a time,” Jonas said, and Mitch remembered that Jonas had struggled with his own issues at one time.
Mitch shifted, struggling over out how to apologize for the way he’d treated him.
“So, what brings you to the lab?” Jonas asked, smoothing over the awkward moment.
Mitch silently thanked him for not pushing for an apology. But one day Mitch would apologize. He owed that much to his friend.
He removed the evidence bag from his pocket. “I have a print I want you to run.”
Jonas narrowed his eyes as he took the bag. “Whose is it?”
“That’s what I want you to tell me.”
Jonas laid the bag on his desk, then folded his arms. “What’s going on, man? I didn’t know you were working a case.”
“I’m not,” he said. “But . . . I’d rather not explain. Can you do me a favor and just run it?”
“Sure,” Jonas said. “Not even a hint?”
Mitch jammed his hands in his pockets. “A woman showed up out at my ranch. I think she’s in trouble.”
“The law after her?”
“I don’t know.” Mitch hoped not. “But something’s off about her. I found fake ID in her suitcase.”
“You searched her belongings?” Jonas asked.
“I had my reasons.”
“You don’t trust anyone, do you, Mitch?”
Mitch shook his head. Not after he’d lost his family. “No.”
Jonas frowned. “Just be careful, Mitch.”
Mitch had a bad feeling it was too late for that. That he’d already dug himself in too deep. That no matter what he found out, he would still protect Kat and her daughter.
After dinner, Kaylie decided she and CeCe needed a grocery run. All afternoon, CeCe had begged her to make Christmas cookies, a tradition Kaylie’s mother had started with her when she was young, one she was determined to pass onto her daughter.
Family traditions meant everything to her. Especially when she had no family left. None except the little girl she wanted to see happy again.
She loaded CeCe into the Pathfinder and drove into Twin Branches, but her old habit of checking over her shoulder kicked in, and she couldn’t relax.
CeCe chattered about what kind of sprinkles and cookie cutters she wanted and suggested baking a special batch for Mr. Mitch as a present.
CeCe patted the tattered cowboy hat Kaylie had found in the attic and jammed it on her head. “Don’t I look like a cowboy, Mommy?”
“A cowgirl,” Kaylie said with a grin.
CeCe pushed the other Stetson into Kaylie’s hands, and she set it on her head. The hats weren’t much in the way of a disguise, but they were big enough to shade her face. And with CeCe in jeans and a plaid shirt and her ponytail tucked under her hat, she could have passed for a boy.
She held her daughter’s hand, again scanning the parking lot as they ducked into the grocery store, grabbed a cart and loaded it with supplies. “I want green trees,” CeCe said. “And silver bells, and peppermint candy canes.”
Kaylie pointed out the box of food coloring and CeCe dropped it into the cart.
“And these!” CeCe grabbed a bottle of sprinkles and tossed them in, along with a pack of Christmas cookie cutters.
“I think we have it,” Kaylie said.
“We need milk to go with the cookies,” CeCe said.
“True,” Kaylie added a gallon of milk to the cart. But the hair on the back of her neck prickled at the sound of a man’s voice.
She turned and glanced down the aisle, but a shadow darted away.
Suddenly trembling, she hurried CeCe to the checkout counter, quickly piling their items on top for the cashier to ring up.
“Looks like somebody’s making treats for Santa,” the chubby middle-aged woman manning the register said.
“Me and Mommy are making ’em for Mr. Mitch.”
The woman peered over her glasses. “Mr. Mitch?”
“Yeah,” CeCe said. “He’s teaching me to ride Horseshoe.”
“CeCe, don’t bother the woman,” Kaylie said, anxious to leave the store.
“No bother, honey,” the woman said. “Are y’all new in town?”
Kaylie’s lungs squeezed for air. She felt that odd tingling again as if someone was watching her, breathing down her neck.
“We’re just passing through,” Kaylie said. CeCe started to speak up, but Kaylie squeezed her hand so tightly her daughter looked up at her, her smile wilting.
“Come on, sweet pea,” she said as she gave the woman some cash.
The woman’s expression turned to worry as if she sensed something was wrong. But Kaylie didn’t bother to explain.
She rushed CeCe out to the Pathfinder, threw the groceries in the back, and peeled from the parking lot.
She held her breath until they turned the corner outside of town, then released a relieved sigh when she thought she’d escaped.
A second later, headlights nearly blinded her, and a car raced up on her tail. She clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, praying she was wrong about the car following her.
Speeding up, she glanced at CeCe, guilt dogging her for the fear in her little girl’s eyes.
The excitement of the cookie making and riding lesson was lost as the car slammed into them and sent the Pathfinder careening toward a ditch.
Mitch made a last minute decision to wait while Jonas ran the fingerprint. If Kat was a criminal, he needed to know.
Although for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine the homebody he’d seen sewing placemats and stringing holly with her daughter ever having done anything wrong.
But he’d been fooled before.
And paid the price.
Jonas plugged the print into the computer, and they watched as the computer system made comparisons through all the major databases.
“Where did you say you lifted the print?” Jonas asked, still fishing.
Mitch cleared his throat. “Off a coffee mug in my house.”
Jonas jerked his head toward Mitch. “Did the woman buy t
he ranch?”
He’d told Jonas his plans to sell one night when he’d been drowning his sorrow. “No, but I put an ad in the local paper.”
“She made an offer?”
“Not exactly.” Mitch wiped a drop of perspiration from his forehead. “She moved in though and made herself at home in the farmhouse.”
“You mean she broke in?”
Mitch shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Does she know who you are? That you own it?”
Mitch shook his head. “She looked nervous, so I told her I was a handyman fixing up the place. She claimed she was a real estate agent, said places sold better if they were furnished so she’s been cleaning like the devil and decorating it for Christmas.”
Jonas looked concerned. “So she’s squatting, and you think she’s in trouble?”
Mitch nodded. “That about sizes it up.”
The computer program kept running but came up with no match.
“She’s not in the system,” Jonas said. “That’s a good sign.”
“Yeah.” But he had seen fear in her eyes. And she did have those fake IDs.
“Maybe she’s running from an ex.”
“Could be. She said her husband was dead.”
“She could be lying.”
“I know. Except her little girl said her daddy was in heaven, so I think that part may be true.”
“Jesus, Mitch. You didn’t say she had a kid.”
Mitch’s heart gave a pang. “Hell, Jonas, that’s the only reason I didn’t throw her out.” That and he was intrigued by her.
Attracted to her, too.
But that was a problem he didn’t want to share with Jonas.
He tucked his hat back on his head, then thanked Jonas and strode out the door. The ride back to his ranch made him strengthen his resolve to stay on guard.
Once he crossed through Twin Branches and turned onto the road leading back to the ranch, anxiety needled him.
When he rounded the bend, he saw Kat’s Pathfinder on the side of the road in the ditch, and fear seized his chest.