Page 180 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

A grin blossoms on her face, and pride swells in my chest, knowing I was the one to put it there. I suspect Mary’s life is much too serious. She needs more happiness in the mix.

Mary takes a step closer, her gaze locked on mine. Her lips are parted, and if I were a betting man, I’d bet that she’s about to kiss me, here on the sidewalk, despite the fact that she’s almost certainly not into public displays of affection. But just as she reaches up on her toes to close the distance between our mouths, her phone rings.

Her cheeks flushing, she pulls her phone out and checks the screen before answering. “What did you find out, Mrs. Rosa?” Her face is neutral, but then a storm of emotion comes into her eyes. “You stay right there. I’m on my way.”

“What happened?”

Her jaw sets. “Mrs. Rosa says Cleo is in a man’s house, and he refuses to let Cleo go, claiming possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

“What?”

She starts walking the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

“To get Cleo back.”

Despite her long, angry strides, I easily fall into step with her. “And how do you plan to do that?”

She glances up at me. “By doing what I know best. Lawyering.”

I don’t ask her any questions, mainly because she looks like she’s ready to slay this man, and I don’t want to become collateral damage. But also because Vengeful Mary is a sight to behold. And if I’m totally honest, I find her hot as fucking hell. No way am I getting in the way of that.

Mrs. Rosa is ahead, standing on the sidewalk in front of a house littered with empty clay pots and garden gnomes. Her eyes are blazing. “That man refuses to give up Cleo.”

“Are you sure he has Roger’s cat?” Mary asks, her tone no-nonsense.

“I saw her in the window when I got here,” Mrs. Rosa says. “She was meowing loud enough that I heard her through the glass. When the guy opened the door, I called Cleo’s name. She tried to dart out, but the guy grabbed her and said she was his cat. He shouted obscenities at me and slammed the door shut.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s Cleo. I’m certain of it. She even has the mitten-shaped white splotch on her hip.”

Mary stares at the house, and I can practically see the wheels spinning in her head as she works out a plan. Finally, she gives a little nod as if agreeing with herself, then grabs her phone and starts typing.

“Do you want me to tell the others to stop canvassing?” I ask.

“No,” she says, deep in thought. “Not yet.”

We wait another minute. I’m unsure of what she’s doing, but then her phone rings. “What do you have?” She listens, muttering “uh-huh” and “I see,” followed by, “Thanks, Dennis. This has been extremely helpful.”

Then, without any warning, she marches up to the front door.

“Go with her, Jace,” Mrs. Rosa says, giving my arm a shove. “This guy is not to be messed with.”

In other words, he could hurt her.

Not while I’m around.

I take long, purposeful strides toward her as she knocks on the door, and stop a few feet behind her, my hands clasped in front of me.

The muscle.

The door opens almost immediately, and a large, muscular man with tattoos all over his bare arms and chest fills the doorway. He has a long, unkempt beard and a bald head.

“What the fuck doyouwant?” he barks.

I expect Mary to flinch, but she looks totally undisturbed by his outburst. “Hugo Sylvan?”

He flinches in surprise. Then he glares. “Who’s askin’?”

“You have a cat in your residence that does not belong to you. If you hand her over to me, my client agrees to chalk this up to a misunderstanding and let it go.”

---