Page 46 of Home for Christmas in July

“Thanks,” the bartender calls, jerking his chin at me while he pulls two pints from the beer taps. “Good luck with your search. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

As I cross the floor to the door, the song ends. In the sudden silence, I can feel eyes boring into my back. I pick up my pace. The music resumes as I nudge the door open.

I step out into the parking lot and pause to look for a path to the back patio. I spot it on the other side of the building. As I pass by the line of motorcycles, the door opens and someone else leaves the club with a burst of music. I round the corner of the building and head for the patio.

Judging by the crunch of the gravel behind me, instead of continuing on to their bike or car, the person who followed me out the door is trailing me to the back of the building. Even though it’s still daylight, my heart rate ticks up and the skin on the back of my neck prickles just like it did in thewoods yesterday. I dig my car keys out of my pocket, fist them between my fingers, teeth out, and quicken my pace.

Just a quick search of the picnic tables,I promise myself.

Even as I try to pretend that I’m not in danger, part of my brain is screaming at me. If I were reading this in one of my mystery books, I would be disgusted and frustrated by the main character’s questionable decision-making. There’s a decent chance I’d slam my book shut in frustration, declaring the sleuth in question TSTL—too stupid to live.

I walk even faster, almost jogging now. The footsteps behind me speed up, too. Should I turn around and make eye contact, let my pursuer know I know they’re there? Or should I just keep going, not engage? Before I have a chance to decide, a hand wraps around my upper arm, yanks me off the path, and pulls me behind the porta-potty.

There are two of them.

The realization hits me like a flash—along with the terrifying thought that I really might be too stupid to live.

I fill my lungs, then pierce the air with a scream that gets cut off as a heavy hand clamps over my mouth.

CHAPTER 20

Nick

Noelle thrashes and writhes wildly in my arms, struggling to break free. As I lean forward to tell her she’s safe, she suddenly jerks her head up and wedges her upper lip above the top of my palm. She bites down hard on the fleshy, sensitive webbing between my thumb and forefinger. Really hard.

Son of a Blitzen.

I grit my teeth to keep from yelling. Then I press my mouth against her ear and whisper, “It’s me—Nick.”

She relaxes instantly, going limp in my arms. I pull her further up the hillside where we’ll be concealed from view by the scrubby brushes at the edge of the property. Once I’m sure we’re out of sight, I ease us both down to the ground. She sags back against my chest. I feel her shoulders shaking and wrap my arms around her in a tight embrace.

“Shh, shh.” I press my lips to the crown of her head and soothe her until her quivering stops.

She takes a shuddering breath then wraps her fingers lightly my hand and holds it up to her face to inspect my bite wound. Her touch is warm and gentle.

“I broke the skin. I’m sorry.”

“You were scared, and you didn’t know it was me. It was a good reaction,” I tell her, and I mean it. She started fighting right away, like it was muscle memory. “Where’d you learn that move?”

She twists around to look at me. “Sensai Adam’s Sunday morning adult self-defense class. I go with some of the book club crew and then we have a boozy brunch at the Tipsy Turnip.”

“Good. Keep going to that self-defense class.” I make a note to tell my daughters I’ll pay for the three of them to take the class, too.

Her bright green eyes fill with remorse. “But I hurt you.”

“Eh.” I wave it off. “Not unless you have rabies. You don’t have rabies, do you?”

“Not to my knowledge.” She giggles.

“Then, it’s all good.”

Her smile fades and her expression grows serious again. “I think someone was following me.”

“Someone was. I watched a man come out of the club a few seconds behind you and trail you back here. So I got out of the car and ran around the other side of the building to intercept you.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

I lower my chin and give her a long, serious look. “He was wearing a baseball hat and big sunglasses.”

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