Love, Lies & Mistletoe

by Jennifer Snow

  “What theme are you going with?”

  Heather shook her head. “Uh-uh, you’re not getting any more information from me about our entry.”

  He sighed. “I was just trying to be polite. It seemed as though you wanted to talk...as usual.”

  “I was just wondering if you guys were competing. The float designs every year are a big deal and kept under wraps. We don’t want people stealing each other’s ideas.” She reached for extra napkins and picked up the loaded tray.

  “Seriously? It’s a parade float.”

  She shot him a look. “Well, our team is not disclosing any information—we know we have a winning design.”

  “Team?”

  “Yeah. Each float is only allowed to have four people working on it, and their names have to be submitted before construction starts.”

  “Wow, this thing is pretty regulated...more than anything else in town.”

  Heather laughed. “Christmas is a big deal around here, in case you haven’t noticed,” she said, coming around the side of the bar.

  “The house across the street from me looks like it was decorated by Santa’s elves on crack—believe me, I’ve noticed.”

  Heather laughed again as she made her way to the bowling alley to deliver the order.

  On her way back, she stopped at a corner booth where Lindsay Harper and Noah Parks sat cuddled together on the same side. They’d been together for four months, and it was rare to see one without the other. It was even rarer to see them without five children in tow—they’d recently adopted Lindsay’s nieces and nephews. “Hey, guys. Date night?”

  Lindsay nodded “The kids are with Ben and Lily.”

  The kids’ godfather had moved to town recently to help Lindsay with the five children who’d been left in her care after the sudden, tragic death of her brother and his wife. And to everyone’s surprise, he’d soon started dating Lindsay’s friend Lily, who owned a clothing store on Main Street.

  Families really did come in all shapes and sizes, Heather marveled.

  “What can I get you guys?”

  “A beer for me and...” Noah glanced at Lindsay.

  “A Bloody Mary, please, with extra celery sticks and pickled veggies,” she said.

  Noah glanced at her. “Hungry?”

  “Twelve-hour shift, remember—I’m starving,” she said, removing her coat to reveal her nurse’s uniform.

  “Menus, too, please, Heather,” Noah said, glancing toward the bar. “Oh, great. No one have fun—Sheriff Matthews is here.”

  Since Jake had arrived in town, he’d butted heads with no one more so than Noah, a former MMA fighter who ran the at-risk-youth program at the local community center. Both men had the town’s best interest at heart, but they had different ways of dealing with things. Completely opposite ways, in fact.

  “He’s easing up a little, I think,” Heather said, not sure why she felt the need to defend Jake, except that he was a nice guy.

  Sort of...somewhere deep down...maybe?

  “Tell that to my kids at the center. They’re terrified of doing anything wrong. He keeps watching them, waiting for one of them to mess up,” Noah said.

  “Maybe that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I haven’t heard about any graffiti problems lately or any of the kids getting hurt,” she reminded him.

  “Sorry, Heather. It’s going to take quite a bit of convincing for me to like that guy,” Noah said, his gaze locked on the back of Jake’s head.

  Well, the two men could agree to disagree. It wasn’t her problem. She wouldn’t be in town much longer anyway, she hoped. “I’ll go get your drinks,” she said, going back behind the bar.

  Opening the beer for Noah and mixing Lindsay’s drink a moment later, she said, “Hey, I was just talking to Noah...”

  Jake groaned, casting a glance over his shoulder toward their table.

  Okay, so the feelings were mutual between the two men.

  “And I was thinking maybe you should try easing up a little on the surveillance around the community center.”

  He laughed. “Has everyone in town voted you the person to ‘deal’ with me...talk me down a bit?”

  She was starting to think so herself. “I’m just saying those kids are not that bad. Noah’s on them like white on rice—you can ease up a little. Maybe even offer to help out at the center or something.” Putting in a few hours with at-risk kids would be a better way to get involved in the community, instead of making enemies out of everyone.

  “I don’t think so. And trust me, this cute, quaint little town may not be as safe as everyone wants to believe. False sense of security is common in places like this, where you all feel as though you know one another. But just because nothing bad has ever happened here, doesn’t mean nothing ever will.” He reached for his coat and tossed several bills onto the bar.

  Retrieving his ID, she handed it to him.

  “Nighty-night, Talks-a-lot,” he said with a wink as he headed toward the door.

  * * *

  “JAKE—PERFECT TIMING,” Sheriff Bishop said as he entered the station the next morning.

  Crap. That sentence was never followed by something good. “What’s up?” he asked, removing his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair before wiping the snow from his dark hair.

  “We just got a call from Darlene Dawson. She’s in charge of town events...and she said they still need several more floats for the Christmas parade.”

  “Okay...”

  “So we’ve decided to enter one this year,” he said.

  Why did he get the feeling that he would somehow get roped into helping? He sighed. “I still can’t believe a town this small even has a parade,” he mumbled, pouring a cup of weak coffee.

  “It’s for the kids,” Sheriff Bishop said. “My daughter and her sons live in Nashville now, but they’ll be home soon for the holidays, and I know my grandsons would just love to ride on the float.”

  Fantastic. Jacob still didn’t know what any of it had to do with him. If he had his way, he would sleep away the holiday. He’d all but given up on the idea that he could be back in the city by Christmas, so he’d accepted the fact that it would be another lonely one for him.

  “Anyway, I just thought you might want to take on the project.”

  What on earth would give the older man that idea? His holly, jolly demeanor? He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

  “Jake, I know you’re hoping to get back...home...someday,” he said, lowering his voice. “But you’re here now—why not try to make the best of the situation, get involved with the community, get to know people better? You might actually like it here.”

  Doubtful. “Sorry, Sheriff Bishop—Christmas just isn’t my favorite time of year, and I’d rather leave float-building and other holiday events to the people who enjoy them.” They couldn’t force him to participate, after all.

  Sheriff Bishop frowned but then nodded. “Okay, I understand.”

  It didn’t sound as if he did, but Jacob wasn’t about to explain that he’d spent the past two Christmases alone in a dingy hotel room, and that the one before that he’d put his own father in jail. Prior to the Lorenzo case, he’d been investigating corporate fraud cases, and his father’s company had been found guilty on several counts. Nope, this time of year wasn’t exactly a good one for him.

  “Well, I’ll need you to stick around for a while this afternoon,” Sheriff Bishop was saying. “I need to drive to Newark to pick up the flatbed trailer for the float.”

  Jacob’s ears perked. “Newark?”

  Sheriff Bishop nodded, printing off the information for the rental place.

  He cleared his throat. “You know, I could go pick it up for you.” The perfect opportunity to sneak off to Newark to meet Emilio at the dock wit
hout anyone questioning him.

  He frowned. “But you just said you weren’t interested.”

  Jacob sighed. Like it or not, he’d just agreed to help with the float. He shrugged. “It’s for the kids, right?”

  Sheriff Bishop grinned, handing him the printout and his truck keys. “Tell Ted at Xtra Lease to send the invoice to the station.”

  “He’ll be okay with that? He’ll know who I am?” he asked, reaching for his jacket. He wasn’t thrilled about taking care of the rental, but he was eager to check in with Emilio. Make sure the man hadn’t changed his mind about helping him.

  “I told him to expect you,” Sheriff Bishop said with a grin.

  Of course he had.

  * * *

  WITH THE TRAILER attached to Sheriff Bishop’s Ford F-350, Jacob drove to the Port Newark Container Terminal. Emilio worked as a container inspector, and the inside man had allowed more than ten containers of illegal drugs and contraband to pass through clearance in the two years that Jacob had been undercover. When the man had announced that he wanted to get out of the cartel business, his life had been in jeopardy, but Jacob had offered him another solution. Working for the good team, Emilio had agreed to let him know when the next shipment was arriving in the port. It had been the backup plan in case the original bust had gone wrong—which it had.

  Of course, no one knew about plan B except the two men.

  Turning onto the yard, Jacob parked the truck near the empty container stacks in the storage facility and jumped down. He raised the collar of his coat to shield his face against the blowing snow and made his way toward Emilio’s office at the far end of the yard.

  An eerie sense of déjà vu made him shiver as he recalled the last time he’d visited the man here. Gun loaded, his mind racing and his heart thundering, he’d been there to “take care” of the older man. With one of Lorenzo’s goons at his side, he’d had no idea how he was going to get out of shooting the man without blowing his cover. Luckily, the other young man had had an even weaker stomach for murder, and he’d disappeared behind the containers, puking long enough for Jacob to make his pitch to Emilio, fire off his weapon and meet the guy as he was returning—looking more than a little relieved that Jacob had “taken care of things” without him.

  Knocking on the office door, he scanned the area. Containers were being unloaded at the port terminal, and the place was full of people. He’d never been here during the day before, and he hoped no one questioned his presence. Though his sheriff’s badge in his pocket gave him a much stronger sense of peace than the illegal gun he’d carried the last time he was there.

  Emilio opened the door. “Can I help you?” he asked, his frown indicating that he didn’t recognize the forty-pound-lighter, clean-shaven cop.

  “Emilio, it’s me,” he said, lowering the collar. “Jake.”

  Still, the man hesitated, holding the door open just a fraction. “Jake who?”

  Jacob held out his hand to reveal the knife-wound scar he’d suffered from the guy before he’d had a chance to explain that he was undercover and was trying to save his life. “The man you stabbed.”

  Emilio’s eyes widened. “Jake?” He opened the door wider and ushered him inside. “You look so different.”

  “More handsome, I hope,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.

  “Well, you’re no Channing Tatum,” Emilio said. “You’re also not supposed to be here.” He lowered his voice. “I heard your cover was blown, and the bust was...a bust.”

  Jacob nodded. He really shouldn’t be there, but not hearing anything from the man was starting to make him feel nervous. He was placing his fate in the hands of a guy who’d been playing for the other side for a long time, and with Jacob gone, he might feel as if his only choice was to shift his loyalty back to the cartel. Being there was an opportunity to feel the guy out and reassure him that he was still on the case. “I just wanted to stop in and see if there was any word on the baby?” he asked loudly, glancing around the office trailer and taking inventory of the security cameras. Everything at the docks was monitored.

  Emilio looked nervous as he caught the code word. “Nothing yet. In fact, it’s about a week overdue.”

  Jacob smiled, patting the man on the back. To anyone watching, he was just an old friend stopping by for a visit. One who expertly turned his face away from all camera angles. “Well, they always come when they’re ready. Be sure to let me know as soon as he or she arrives,” he said.

  “Jake, are you sure about this?” Emilio sat behind his desk, and Jacob could see his hands shaking.

  Reaching casually for the volume button on the stereo, the sound of “Jingle Bell Rock” drowning out his words, he leaned closer as he said, “Yes. I’m sure. And this is your way out once and for all, Emilio. Call the number I gave you immediately as soon as you know anything.”

  “He’s coming here himself,” the man mumbled.

  Jacob forced his voice to sound worry-free as he said, “I know. And that’s why I need to be here, too.” As soon as he could arrest the man in action, accepting his cargo, the faster Emilio could be free of his involvement, the court case could be over, and his sister and nephew could go home...he could go home.

  The man swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  Jacob touched his shoulder. “Emilio, we both need this.” This shot at redemption was the only way either of them could move on with their lives.

  “I know, Jake. I won’t let you down.”

  He nodded. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Emilio he was worried about.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “THE STATION DECIDED to enter a float after all?” Heather asked as Jacob entered the Millers’ barn the next day. The old stalls had been transformed into a place where they could work privately on their floats and store them until the parade.

  Heather was wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt, with her dark hair pulled back, and he almost didn’t recognize her as the same woman who tended bar every evening at the pool hall. This look was better, he decided. Though admittedly, he liked every look she had. There was just something about her that attracted him—her smart mouth, maybe.

  For more reasons than one, he shook the thought away and cleared his throat. “Apparently they needed several more, so Sheriff Bishop signed us up.”

  She looked around him and frowned. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

  “Just me,” he said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d been deemed so unlikable by the folks in Brookhollow that he couldn’t even enlist the help of three people with his float.

  Some of the guys at the fire hall had excuses for not wanting to help: Noah was already working on the community center’s float for his Turnaround program, and Ethan was helping Bailey with the garage’s float. Other guys just refused to acknowledge the email he’d sent out.

  And Sheriff Bishop had simply tapped him on the shoulder and wished him luck, claiming one of them needed to be around the station in case of emergency.

  Jacob was on his own, but it was worth it for the chance to check in with Emilio the day before. Besides, he’d throw a few things onto the trailer—a tree, an inflatable snowman and a cut-out Santa, maybe—and call it a day. It wasn’t as if he actually cared about winning the competition. And he knew as long as Sheriff Bishop’s nephews had something to ride on, the older man would be happy.

  “The parade is in three weeks,” Heather said. “Most of us have been working on our floats for over a week now.” She glanced inside his stall and pointed to the empty flatbed he’d rented. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Yes, I know. So, I better get started,” he said, moving around her and entering the stall where he’d placed all of his supplies the evening before. He still didn’t have a truck to pull the float in the parade yet, but he’d figure that out later. Or, with any luck, it
would be someone else’s problem.

  Heather followed him. “What’s your theme?”

  Theme? As if. “Thought everyone had to keep their ideas hush-hush?” He stood tall, widening his chest and shoulders to prevent her from seeing beyond him. Without her crazy heels, she was only five-four, maybe five-five. Still as high energy as ever, though.

  “We don’t have to,” she said with a shrug, curiosity shining in her eyes.

  “Ah, but you chose to,” he said, winking at her. “Bye, Heather.” He entered his section and closed the door on her pout.

  * * *

  WITH VICTORIA’S MOTHER babysitting Harper and answering phones at the B and B, Heather and Victoria headed out early the next morning. Mike Ainsley had confirmed receipt of her résumé when she’d resent it to him, and within an hour, he’d requested an interview with her the following day, so the two women had decided to go interview-clothes shopping.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” Heather said, as Victoria turned her truck onto Main Street, biting the curb. Heather bounced in the seat and laughed to herself. Her friend was the worst driver she knew.

  Victoria didn’t seem to notice that she’d narrowly missed hitting the mailbox on the corner. “Of course. This is exciting. I’m happy for you,” she said, but her voice sounded forcibly chipper.

  “I’m really sorry I’m leaving, Vic.”

  “It’s totally fine. I knew you weren’t planning to stay forever.”

  Even so, Heather couldn’t help but feel guilty. Victoria had lost her best friend and business partner in an accident five months before...and now Heather, too, was leaving. Her friend had been there for her when she’d lost so much, and abandoning her now made her stomach knot. “If you need me to stay longer...” Please, please, don’t say you need me to stay longer.

  “No. You’re taking this opportunity—you deserve it. We really need to start thinking about a more permanent situation at the inn anyway.” She paused. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll go with you,” she said, teasing, but there was definite longing in her voice.

  “You love your life here, don’t you?” Her friend had married her high school sweetheart, she was running a successful business, and now she was a mother to a beautiful baby girl. If she wasn’t happy with her choices, she was a terrific actress.