Page 34 of Mistletoe

She barely moved out of the way as they raced past, tossing up mud and other unmentionables.

A second cluster followed at a more leisurely pace. At the center was a tall man with silver hair and enough metal on his jacket to convey that he was important and in charge. Clearly an officer. A major, possibly even a general.

“Search every building if you have to. I will be extremely displeased if I lose another creature today,” the officer said, dispatching his minions.

Emma didn’t know who they were hunting, but she had a good idea.

Soldiers pounded on doors, not being polite as they demanded entrance. They’d search house to house until there were no places left to hide. On the street, she heard the beat of hooves. The previous party of soldiers hadn’t found what they sought and were making another sweep of the town’s main street.

“Hey,” a voice whispered from the alley.

Emma turned, displaying zero aptitude for subterfuge. It was mortifying, really.

A deputy motioned for her to follow him down the alley.

No, not a deputy, despite wearing the brown deputy coat.

Hal.

She followed, the temperature dropping drastically in the alley as the buildings crowded together and blocked out the sun.

Her red scarf obscured the lower half of his face. White face paint had been smeared over the bridge of his nose and cheeks, caking around his eyes. A hat covered his head. Gloves covered his hands. Altogether, as much of him was covered as possible, technically, but the white face paint was clearly stage makeup. The effect only worked at a distance or in the shadows.

“You were supposed to get out of town,” she whispered.

“I had matters that needed attending to.”

“Is this your handiwork?” She waved to the main street at the end of the alley.

“You said I was trouble.”

“I’d ask you what you did, but you either wouldn’t tell me or if you did, I’d be an accessory, and there are plenty enough hard feelings between me and the sheriff right now.”

Hal smiled. She couldn’t see his mouth, but his eyes did a… thing. She wasn’t a poet, able to wax on elegantly about the rhapsody of his brown eyes. A smiley thing—and it was nice. His eyes were nice. Warm. She liked it.

The slower, purposeful clatter of hooves interrupted her thoughts. The soldiers were no longer racing; they were searching on foot. Someone gave the order to search door to door. Their voices rose over the noise of the town, ordering people to open doors or just pounding on doors where they were too impatient to ask.

Right. Hal was in the midst of a chase, and lurking in the alley would no longer suffice.

“Listen, the train tracks are on an embankment. Use it to get out of town.”

The voices grew louder.

“I have an idea,” she said, stepping closer. She stretched up on her toes and grabbed his hat. “Sorry about this,” she said. Bold—bolder than she had any right to be—Emma removed the hat from his head.

The tips of pointed green ears poked through his messy hair.

“Put your arm around me,” she said.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but maybe not for this situation,” he said, amused, but followed her instructions.

She held the hat at the side of his head, shielding his face.

“I’m sorry for not asking,” she said, using her other hand to grab the scarf and pull him down. She kissed him.

Her first impression was of the tusks. They pressed against her lips too harshly and with no give. They hurt. Her second impression was that his lips were clamped tightly shut, unresponsive against her own.

This was a mistake and as enticing as kissing a stone wall. A well-behaved person did not forcibly kiss others. In public. Without at least discussing the matter before slapping their mouth over the other person’s.

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