Page 17 of A Very Titan Christmas
“I’m letting him come to that decision on his own.” Mia rubbed Sarge behind the ears and let the dog lean against her.
Sugar snorted. “The cabins are already booked.”
Jared tossed up his hands. “I don’t even know why you need me.”
“Because you’re so damn sexy.” Sugar scooted across the desk and planted a kiss on his cheek. “And we need to ensure you don’t plan assignments when we’ll be in Vermont.”
He snagged Sugar around the waist and pulled her into his lap. Her giggles and kicks caught the Malinois’s attention, but Sarge only watched, head cocked and ears twitching as the dog listened for Sugar’s commands.
Mia jumped up. “On that note, I’ll let you two—” she gestured vaguely—“talk.”
The door shut behind Mia, and Jared lifted his woman in his arms and planted her ass back on the desk. “Tell your dog to turn around.”
She wriggled her eyebrows. “Don’t you know how to sweep me off my feet?”
“I’m gonna do a whole hell of a lot to you, but not with an audience.” His mouth touched the spot on her neck that turned Sugar to putty in his hands. The softness of her skin rolled through him. She was the supple to his brash, the sweet to his surly. He brushed his lips to her earlobe.
“That feels”—she tilted her neck—“amazing.”
He captured her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. Their lips met. Sparks flew. He’d kissed this woman a hundred thousand times, and it never failed to ignite the fire in his blood.
She inched back. “Guess what?”
“Don’t distract me, baby cakes.”
“The kids are spending the night at friends’ houses.” She hitched her legs around his hips. “Which means after this pit stop here, we go home and…”
“Have all night long.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Silverberry Ridge, Vermont
The sky abovehung low with the threat of snow flurries, while the cold, clean air held the scent of sugar and pine. The threat of bad weather held off, but it didn’t matter if it rained or snowed. If they held off doing things in Silverberry Ridge until they were certain of good weather, they’d never do anything at all.
Rachel and Eloise entered the Christmas marketplace and were greeted by the happy murmur of voices. Rachel’s camera hung around her neck, and her notebook was ready for insider tips and quotes from the locals and Silverberry Ridge visitors who mixed and mingled in the town hall parking lot that had been transformed for the weekend’s marketplace.
Rows of vendors hawked handmade crafts and holiday presents. The scent of delicious treats coaxed them closer. Rachel took a deep breath of cinnamon, vanilla, and sugar and readied to enjoy time with her mother. Together, they would search for the perfect Vermont merchants to include in her article.
She took a picture, imagining how it would look in the magazine, as Roman, one of the two men on their security detail, spoke to Eloise. Rachel focused her camera and snapped another picture, trying to ignore how she could sense Bryce standing behind them.
Roman spoke into the communication device on his wrist and threaded through the marketplace ahead of them.
Security details had occasionally accompanied Rachel since her father had been elected to office while she was in college. As he gained seniority, the security presence had increased. She appreciated the sacrifices the agents made to keep her family safe, but they were not a significant factor in her life. With Bryce behind her now, she was more than aware he followed her.
Eloise refastened the scarf around her neck. “Ready to shop?”
Rachel squeezed her mother’s shoulder. Work and family. Those were the only things that should have been her focus. “Lead the way.”
An hour later, Rachel realized she should’ve had a Christmas marketplace game plan. She had two oversized bags in hand but had yet to cover a third of the vendors. Presents for friends and family filled one bag. The other was almost as full but weighed a great deal more because of every business card, flyer, and menu she’d snagged. The problem was that everything she came across was ideal for her article.
They paused again. If Eloise wasn’t talking with someone, she was busy on her phone. Rachel should have realized that their mother-daughter shopping time would include a large percentage of socializing. Everyone knew her mother, and every conversation bored Rachel to tears. Her bags dug into her arms and shoulders, no matter how she repositioned them.
Eloise strained to see who was farther down the aisle, then shot her hand into the air.
Rachel followed her gaze. “Who are you waving at?”
Her mom quickly assessed her. “We need to get rid of your bags.” She looked over her shoulder. “Where’s the security detail?”
