Page 84 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
That probably should have alarmed me, but it didn’t. Nothing had ever felt so right.
I was getting a taste of small-town domestic life and found it surprisingly pleasant. Charming, even. Strolling through Christmas Village, watching Annabel’s excitement, picking out a tree. I wouldn’t have thought those things would appeal to me. But with Natalie and her little family, they did.
We’d spent an afternoon decorating said tree. It had been so fucking wholesome, with Christmas music playing and the scent of baking cookies in the air. And I’d loved it.
I even decorated the outside of their house. Most of their lights had been defective, so I’d taken the liberty of buying more, largely under Annabel’s direction. She’d wanted it to look like a gingerbread house in the snow—multicolored lights on thehouse and white lights in the yard. Never one to do anything halfway, I’d added candy canes along the driveway and lit gingerbread people in front of the house.
Apparently, I did have some Christmas spirit.
Natalie shifted, letting out a slow breath. With a slight grin, I kissed her hair.
She’d been busy the past several days securing a rental car, dealing with her insurance company, and doing her part on the picket line with her fellow nurses. As much as I wanted to step in and fix everything for her—or at least the things I could—my gut told me to tread lightly. I was in uncharted territory with her, but I was good at reading people. Swooping in with a brand-new car, paying all her bills, and stuffing the space beneath the Christmas tree with an outrageous number of presents might have seemed like the heroic thing to do. And a very Jensen Lakes thing to do. But she was still guarded. I had a feeling she’d take it the wrong way.
I still wanted to do it—all that and more. But how and when were important.
“I feel like I could fall asleep,” she said. “You took everything out of me. Again.”
I kissed her hair.
She propped herself up and caressed my chest. “I almost don’t want to bring this up because part of me wants to drag this out as long as possible. But we probably need to get moving on Julian.”
“Hmm, business or pleasure?” I slid my fingers through her hair and brought her in for a lazy kiss.
“I know, I know. But we don’t want to miss our chance. What if he has it and he’s planning to sell it?”
“Don’t worry. I haven’t been idle.”
We sat up, and as she slipped her tank top back on, I grabbed my phone from the side table and opened an app. It displayed a map with a series of lines tracing routes through town.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I put a tracker on his car.”
She looked at me in surprise. “How did you manage that?”
“It was easy. I followed him until he left his vehicle unattended. It’s been recording his movements for the last few days.” I pointed at a spot on the map. “He goes to this gym daily, always around the same time.”
“Is that red dot where he is now?”
“Yes. He’s at home.”
“The gym is perfect. I could go and pretend to be there for a workout. I’ll find a way to get him to talk to me. Should be a piece of cake.”
I still had my misgivings about the plan as a whole, but she was right. Planting her at the gym would work well.
“There’s a problem, though,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I need to get a membership. And I hate to be blunt, but gyms are not cheap, and I’m not working.”
“You won’t need a membership.”
“I doubt they’ll let me work out for free.”
“No, but you’ll only need to get in once. Don’t need a membership for that.”
“True, I can probably get a guest pass. But have you ever been through the gym tour and sales pitch cycle? It takes forever. They’ll have some big muscly guy or super fit girl show me around and talk about all the different equipment. Then sit me at a desk like I’m there to buy a house or something and try to up-sell me on their personal training and nutrition program. By the time I got my pass, Julian would be long gone.”
