Page 16 of Mistletoe and Malice
As He’d proved that morning, when He plucked her from the grasp of evil. Evil she prayed she would never have to face again.
Chapter Seven
So far, it was as awful as she’d imagined it would be.
While her parents’ driver from Petersen sat at the back of the church, hershadows, as she’d taken to calling them in her head, had stationed themselves at various points around the sanctuary. Mr. Jamison—Shadow Number Three—stood at the front entrance, waiting for the closing prayer that would signal him to bring the black Lincoln Navigator with the dark windows to the curb. Mr. Paxton—Shadow Number Two—held sentry at a side door.
And if that weren’t embarrassing enough, Mr. Blankenship—her annoying Shadow Number One, so named because he was alwaysright there—walked her all the way in, his head swiveling as if someone might spring out of their seat at any second and carry her away.
Finally seated next to Alex, her oldest brother, she bowed her head and put her hand to her forehead. Two weeks. Could she stand this for two weeks? Shadow Number One always walking in front of her to her left, Shadow Number Two a bit behind to her right. Shadow Number Three driving her everywhere.
She understood they were doing their job. She just hated beingthe job.
She opened her eyes and, to her utter mortification, found Mr. Blankenship standing in the aisle between the wall and the pew, his eyes panning back and forth across the congregation.
“Aren’t you going to sit?” she asked in a stage whisper, leaning toward him so as not to draw unwanted attention.
Or more accurately, anymoreunwanted attention. The praise team hadn’t begun their set yet, so folks mingled while contemporary worship music spilled through overhead speakers. But she hadn’t missed the curious glances she’d garnered on her way in with her two lumberjack-sizedguestsflanking her.
He glanced at her and resumed his scan. “Not standard protocol.”
“I don’t care. You’re embarrassing me to death. Sit down.”
With a frown, he gave her another glance but continued to stand there, like one of those motionless guards at Buckingham Palace. She smiled a little inside, picturing him with one of those oversized bearskin hats on his head.
“Do you seriously think anybody would try something with you right next to me? Please. Can you sit?”
With a sigh, he finally moved into the pew next to her. A manly scent of sandalwood mingled with leather almost had her leaning toward him to get more of it.
Instead of giving in to the temptation, she pushed her shoulders back and nodded. “Much better. You almost look normal.” As normal as he could with the obvious earpiece and his ever-watchful, cold-as-ice glower.
The corner of his mouth hitched upward ever so slightly. Maybe there was some thaw under there, after all.
The band launched into their first number, and the congregation stood. As soon as he was on his feet, though,Shadow Number One again took his place standing guard in the aisle. Riley wanted to sink into a hole. Maybe she should’ve stayed in and watched the service on live stream. Then she would’ve been spared this mortifying experience while also getting another hour or so of sleep.
After being ambushed in her father’s study last night and reluctantly accepting her fate, she’d tried to sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, flashes of that morning’s event would have her wide-eyed and staring up at the dark ceiling. The entire incident happened in less than three minutes yet permeated the rest of her day. And night.
Once seated and the pastor well into the morning’s message, she peered at the man next to her out of the corner of her eye. As he had throughout the service thus far, his icy blue gaze raked across the congregation in front of them—back and forth, like a lawn mower. Her attention snapped back to the preacher as her skin erupted in gooseflesh.
Irritation. That’s all it was. Colton Blankenship irritated her with his arrogance and the way he’d taken control of her life.
Okay, sure, the man was handsome. And smelled good. When they met after the funeral, she hadn’t been in a state of mind to notice one way or the other. But last night, she’d been instantly aware of his quiet power.
Tall, muscular, shoulders pulled back, a face of granite. And those eyes. His presence alone took command of a room. Alert. In control. Capable. But cold as ice inside. Immovable. Not her type in the least. No,herman would respect her decisions for her life, never try to impose his will on her.
He leaned in. “Let’s go.”
“He’s praying,” she whispered back.
He didn’t answer as he took her hand and pulled her up with him. She made a grab for her Bible sitting on her lap and half-jogged to keep up with his long-legged stride up the side aisleto the back of the church. In her straight skirt and four-inch heels, she was more in danger of breaking an ankle than being accosted.
They stepped into the foyer as the pastor said hisAmen,and the praise band started in on their closing song.
“You have absolutely no clue about church etiquette.”
He ignored her comment as he and Shadow Number Two led her out to the waiting SUV. Holding the door open, he scanned the parking lot while she climbed into the back seat. He closed the door and walked around to take his position behind their driver while Mr. Paxton took the front passenger seat.
“I think that was a little over the top, don’t you? I’m not the First Lady, for crying out loud. And I like to stay around and talk after church. What’s the problem with that?”
