Love, Lies & Mistletoe

by Jennifer Snow

  Heather shrugged. “I don’t know. He comes into the bar every night...”

  “Great, he’s turning to alcohol,” Cameron mumbled.

  Heather frowned. “What?”

  “Oh, I mean—he’s an alcoholic,” Cameron said quickly.

  “No, he’s not. He has one drink...sometimes not even.” She shook her head and bit into the sandwich. Why was her sister so intent on talking about Jake?

  “Okay, what do you know about him?”

  “Not much—he’s from Manhattan, he has a sister and a nephew...”

  Her sister was watching her intently.

  “He was abducted by aliens and has visited Neverland with Peter Pan... Come on, Cameron. He’s just some guy. Can we talk about something else, please?” Normally she’d be excited to share information with her sister about a guy she was interested in, but this time it was different. She had no idea where things stood with Jake, and the last thing she needed was her sister thinking that once again she planned to let a man control her future. That wasn’t happening.

  Her sister sighed. “Fine.”

  “How’s Dylan?”

  “Excited to have you with us for Christmas this year.” She pointed at her. “So, you better make sure that this ‘some guy’ doesn’t change our holiday plans...or your life plans.”

  Wonderful. They’d come full circle in less than three seconds. Heather took another bite of her sandwich and avoided her sister’s eyes. “Of course, Cameron. Give me some credit—I know what’s important, and I’m not planning to lose sight of that.” Besides, hadn’t Jake said just an hour before that a relationship wasn’t something he’d consider right now?

  CHAPTER NINE

  AS HEATHER BUCKLED her seat belt in the car almost an hour later, she tossed Jake a sandwich. “I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I took a guess.”

  “Thank you. Sorry about skipping out on you like that—I just got the feeling your sister really wanted to spend time with just you.” He unwrapped the sandwich, then pulled out of the parking spot.

  “Sorry about her. She was extra sisterly today,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “It was totally fine. She’s...nice.”

  “That’s a stretch, but I like her.” She removed her boots and put her feet up on the dash. “She’s working on a really big case right now, and it’s making her a little crazy, I think.” But while she’d tried to dismiss her sister’s qualms about her feelings for Jake and his feelings for her, Cameron wasn’t wrong in her assumptions.

  “What’s the case about?”

  “She can’t talk about it, as usual—at least not until it’s all over, but I think it has to do with that high-profile drug dealer, Leo something or other, who was arrested this summer,” she said. She didn’t know much about the case, just how much it was stressing her sister out. She’d never seen her so wound up about work before. Cameron was always passionate about her cases, and her long hours were normal, but Dylan had said more than one morning he’d woken to find his mom asleep at the kitchen table, still in her work clothes from the day before.

  And it hadn’t escaped Heather’s notice that Cameron’s clothing was hanging off of her or the fact she’d consumed twice as much coffee than she normally did and ate next to nothing of her lunch. “I’m worried about her,” she admitted.

  Jake reached across and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sure things will get better soon. The holidays are coming, so I’m sure she’ll get a break then.”

  “I hope so. It’s one of the other reasons I would love to have this job before Christmas. I’d like to be out here with them for the holidays and be able to help with Dylan. Rob is great, but he works as much as Cameron does, and he travels a lot.”

  “Will you be traveling a lot once you get the job?”

  “If I get the job, then, yeah, about fifty percent of the time.” She bit her lip. The travel had never bothered her before...and it shouldn’t bother her now.

  She heard a beeping noise and turned to face him. “What’s that?”

  Reaching into his pocket, Jake took out a small black monitor. “My glucose monitor. My blood sugar levels are low, so it’s telling me to eat. The sandwich will help,” he said.

  “You’re diabetic?” She’d had no idea.

  He nodded.

  “Since when?”

  “I was diagnosed at eight.”

  “Wow. Sorry to hear that. I always associate diabetes with older people.”

  “Juvenile diabetes sucks. There were even younger children at the hospital with me when I first found out. I was in there for a week until my blood sugars balanced, and I learned how to help control the highs and lows.” He turned onto the highway, then bit into the sandwich.

  “Which is worse? Highs or lows?” She really knew nothing about the disease.

  “They both cause problems. Too many highs can destroy your liver and other organs, while the lows can make you kinda loopy, almost like you’re drunk, and in severe cases they can lead to blackouts, coma or death.” His voice hardened as he said it, and she noticed his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

  “How does the monitor work?” she asked, hoping the discussion wasn’t bothering him. She longed to know more about it...about him. Whatever he revealed about himself, it was never enough, but she also didn’t want to push or pry.

  He lifted his jacket and shirt to reveal a plastic device on his skin, keeping his eyes on the road. “This sensor has a tiny needle inside that sends readings continuously to the monitor. It beeps when my blood goes above eight or below four. In between is where I need to stay.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is it hard to control the highs and lows?”

  “It was at first. I was hospitalized a few times in high school—the last thing on my mind at fifteen was making sure my blood sugar levels were balanced. I was on every sports team at school, so my father bought me the monitor to help me stay on top of it. Once I was diagnosed, he kinda made it his life mission to try to fix me. As soon as new technology was available, I had it. Clinical trials...”

  Something in his voice made her think his father was a hot topic, but her desperate craving for information about him made her ask anyway. “Are you and your dad close?”

  He stared straight ahead. “We were. Really close actually, before I sent him to jail for ten years for corporate fraud.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m so sorry, Jake. It was none of my business...”

  He glanced at her quickly. “Now do you understand why I try not to get close? My job will always mean that personal relationships come second to the greater good.”

  She nodded. She did now.

  * * *

  HEATHER STAPLED A row of white lights along the base of her float at the barn the next morning. Kayla was looking after the B and B’s front desk to see how well she could handle things while Heather was still in town as backup, and so far she’d only called her once with a question. Heather was starting to feel better about leaving Victoria and the Brookhollow Inn. Kayla was smart and eager to learn—the front desk was in good hands.

  So was the bar. Candace had readily stepped in to take over, and the bar’s owner had already approved the latest transfer in management. Vacating both positions was going without a hitch, making it easy for her to leave.

  Which should be a good thing. So why was the idea upsetting?

  She wondered if Jake would find a replacement for her as quickly and easily once she left. It wouldn’t be hard now, with all of his new admirers in town...

  His revelation the day before about his father had shocked her, but it had given her insight into the mysterious man. It definitely explained his standoffish attitude and his unwillingness to get close to people.
She couldn’t even imagine how tough it must have been to have to put his own father in jail.

  The diabetes, too, had surprised her. She hadn’t been aware that people with the disease could even be on the police force. When she’d asked him about it, he’d said the process hadn’t been easy and required a lot of persistence, but he’d proven that he could control his blood sugars and that it wouldn’t be an issue. But something in his tone and the way he’d quickly changed the subject after that made her think that maybe there was more to it than he was revealing.

  The brief glimpses into his life hadn’t satisfied her curiosity one little bit; they had only sparked it further.

  He’d also mentioned that his sister owned an art gallery on East 7th Street. How many could there be on East 7th Street? She bit her lip, reaching for her cell phone. She could look it up...maybe learn a little more.

  Sitting on the edge of the float, she opened the Google app and typed in “art gallery on East 7th Street in New York” before she could change her mind.

  She frowned as the information loaded. Amber Marx Studios was closed. Marx? She’d expected his sister’s last name to be Matthews. A married name she’d kept, maybe? She opened the website and scanned the page. “Closed until further notice.” Since when? Jake hadn’t mentioned that.

  She clicked on the About Us page, and an image of Jake’s sister appeared, standing outside the gallery. Heather leaned closer to the phone. The brother and sister could be mistaken for twins, they looked so much alike. Same dark hair, dark eyes, thin nose...

  She quickly scrolled through the rest of the pages. The art collections were amazing—mostly colorful abstract pieces, but also several framed scenic photographs that looked like refinished images of older shots.

  She hit the contact page and stared at the phone number, wondering if the calls were being forwarded.

  This was crazy. She was not going to call Jake’s sister.

  No, but she could call Amber, the art gallery owner, about one of the paintings...

  But why? What was she hoping to learn?

  Anything!

  Dialing the number, Heather stood and paced the floor. If someone answered, she would just ask about when the gallery would be reopening. Simple.

  The phone continued to ring, then the voice mail clicked on. “Thank you for calling Amber Marx Studios. Today is July 29. The gallery will be hosting a private event this evening and will be closed to the public, reopening on Monday, August first—”

  Heather hit End on the call. July 29? That was the last recording? And by the sound of it, Amber had had every intention of going back to business as usual the following week. This made no sense.

  July 29...around the same time Jake had arrived in Brookhollow.

  Her eyes widened. Oh, no. Her stomach knotted.

  Was his sister...dead?

  Was that why he was here? To regroup after a family tragedy? But he talked about her as if she were alive.

  Oh, no—was the guy crazy? That would be her luck, to fall in love with an insane guy.

  But he didn’t seem crazy. He seemed lonely, troubled...secretive, closed-off at times...

  Her cell phone chimed with a new text message, making her jump.

  Her hand flew to her heart. She was scaring the crap out of herself with her own overactive imagination.

  She glanced at the phone. A message from Jill? That was odd. She barely knew the fitness instructor, except to see her at the bar with Jim sometimes...where she drank lemon water and gave Jim heck if he consumed too many beers.

  Any chance you’re available for dinner at our place tonight? Need guinea pigs.

  Wow. Way to sell it, Jill.

  She hesitated. She wasn’t working at the bar that evening, and her only other plans were to sit around and make herself crazy thinking about Jake. She sighed as she texted back.

  What time should I be there?

  * * *

  “HI, JAKE, IS Sheriff Bishop around?” Cody asked, entering the station.

  “No, he’s off this morning. Taking his grandsons ice fishing,” he said, grabbing his radio and squad car keys. “Ready to head out?”

  “Actually, I’m not planning to ride with you today. The baby isn’t feeling great, and Alison has been at the clinic all night, so I’m going to head over there once I get the other kids to school. I just stopped by to drop these off,” he said, setting a file folder on the desk.

  The young man looked tired and stressed. “Everything okay with the little one?”

  He nodded slowly. “She’s struggling with some fluid on her lungs. Dr. McCarthy wants her to stay in for a few days.”

  “Okay, well, I hope she gets better soon.”

  Cody nodded. “Can you just ask Sheriff Bishop to fill out the forms inside the folder and mail them when he gets a chance?”

  Jacob narrowed his eyes as he caught the Boston Police Department’s logo on the corner of the file. “That your recommendation letter?”

  “Yeah. It’s the last thing I need filled out before they’ll schedule an interview and physical.”

  “Right. I’ll let him know.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  He watched the young man leave the office and saw him climb into an old minivan. He sighed as he opened the folder. The kid’s academy grades were above average. He was smart and fit. With a good recommendation from Sheriff Bishop, there was no reason he wouldn’t get the job in Boston. The big-city departments were often desperate for new recruits.

  He tossed the folder back onto the desk and stuck a note for Sheriff Bishop on the front of it.

  The door to the locker room opened, and Jim Bishop, Sheriff Bishop’s oldest son, came through, talking into his cell. “Yes, Jill, I’ll invite him...I’ll do it right now if you let me off of the phone.”

  He turned to look at Jacob as he hung up and slid the cell into his pocket. “Women. I swear...” He shook his head. “Hi, Jake.”

  “Hey, man, everything okay?”

  “Other than the fact that my girlfriend is so stressed about hosting Christmas dinner at our place this year she’s decided to hold a test run tonight? Then, yes, everything’s great.”

  Jake laughed. He’d met Jill once when she’d stopped by the fire hall. She was...a little high-strung, and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the couple. Jim was so laid-back, Jacob often felt like checking him for a pulse. Maybe opposites really did attract.

  “Anyway, she wanted me to invite you, if you’re not doing anything.”

  He was being invited to fake holiday dinners now? “Um...”

  “It’s just Ethan and Bailey and us...she said she could use an ‘honest opinion’ or two,” Jim said.

  “And she thinks I won’t hold back to save her feelings the way the rest of you will?”

  Jim shrugged. “Well, would you?”

  “No. You’re right.” He laughed. “If you want honesty, you’ve come to the right place.” He stopped. Unless of course he was undercover or hiding out in a small town. When was the last time he’d actually been a hundred percent honest with anyone?

  Yesterday, when he’d told Heather about his father and his condition...and Amber and her art gallery. He shook his head, uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He still couldn’t believe he’d told her any of it.

  Jim was waving a hand in front of his face. “So you will be there? Six o’clock?”

  He nodded. “Sure. Why not?” If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to avoid the pool hall and the one person he’d already let get too close.

  * * *

  HEATHER PARKED HER vehicle outside of Jim and Jill’s house later that evening and struggled with the urge to turn around and drive back to the B and B.

  A squad car was across the street, and she said a si
lent prayer that it was Jim’s father, Sheriff Bishop, and not the other sheriff in town.

  “Of course it’s not Jake,” she told herself, as she climbed out of the car. “Why would Jill invite Jake?”

  “Probably the same reason she invited you—honesty.”

  His voice behind her made her jump. “Jeez, Jake!” She slapped his arm. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

  “You were the one talking to yourself and not paying attention to your surroundings,” he muttered, looking about as pleased as she was at this turn of events.

  “You know what? I’ll go.”

  “No, I’ll go. They’re your friends,” he said.

  Were they? She barely knew them. The invite to dinner had been unexpected. Seeing Jake here was even more unexpected. She sighed. “Too late,” she said as the front door opened and Jill waved at them.

  “Hey, you two, get in here. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “She is way too perky,” Jake mumbled.

  Heather hid a smile. “And Jim’s semi-comatose all the time.”

  “I know!” He smiled at her. “Glad to know I’m not the only one noticing how odd these two are.” He stopped as they reached the step. “Heather, I’m sorry.”

  “Jake, it’s fine. I get it. You have a dangerous job, and you don’t want anything to compromise that.” She swallowed hard. “Like your sister and nephew.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  Just say it quickly. “Jake, I looked up your sister’s art gallery—it’s been closed since July.”

  “You were snooping around in my life?”

  “I wouldn’t have to if you’d ever give me the full story for once. You reveal bits and pieces and leave me to fill in the blanks.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have told you anything at all.”

  “Then why did you?” she challenged. “I was doing just fine planning my escape from Brookhollow, and then you started complicating things with your hot and cold, back and forth, drawing me in and then pushing me away.” Her voice rose.

  “What do you need, Heather?” he asked, moving closer, his dark eyes boring into hers, his warm breath on her cold cheek. “Do you need me to say it?”