Page 40 of Mistletoe and Malice
The sound of her laughter faded behind the closed door, and he walked around the front of the vehicle to her side.
“Thank you,” she said as she took his hand and stood. “To both of you.”
He dropped her hand, returning her smile. “You’re welcome. From both of us.”
He led her into the house, through the immaculate kitchen, and into the family room. “I’ll be right back.” He scanned his orderly home, kept the way he liked it, even if he hadn’t spent more than an hour there in the last two months. “Make yourself at home.”
As she gazed around the room, furnished in leather and warm wood tones, her smile brought a warmth to his chest. Did she like what she saw? After being raised in such opulence?
Leaving her there, he hurried upstairs to the master suite, where he threw a few sweatshirts, tees, two pairs of jeans, and socks into an extra suitcase, then pulled out a couple of suits to place in a hanging bag. He considered the laundry piled in the closet for a few seconds before stuffing it all into a duffel bag. He’d go through it later to determine what he needed and what could wait. He didn’t want to keep Riley out any longer than necessary.
He appreciated Mack’s faith in him, but with Riley waiting for him downstairs, the second-guessing had begun. Not that he couldn’t keep her safe. Of that he had no doubt. His head had been on a swivel, focus constantly moving from the road to his mirrors and back again the entire drive over.
But having her here, in his home, this place he retreated to when he needed to refuel, felt a little too familiar. Friendly. He’d never once let himself get close enough to a principal to call themfriend. Yet here he was, with Riley. In his house.
After a last perusal around the bedroom, he toted the duffel-turned-laundry-bag, his garment bag, and suitcase down the stairs to his family room. Bless Irene. She wasn’t having it when he’d asked if he could use their laundry facilities. Insisted he bring back to the estate whatever he needed done and the housekeeping staff would take care of it.
The Hudsons had certainly surrounded themselves with loyal employees. It said a lot about the family that most of their staff had been with them for a decade or more.
At the foot of the stairs, he set his bags on the wood floor and ambled over to Riley, standing in front of the built-in bookshelf beside the limestone fireplace.
“Your family?” She pointed to a framed photograph. “I recognize Lisa.”
He drew his focus to the photo of the people smiling—no, laughing—into the camera with the familiar landscape of Disney World behind them. “Vacation. Summer before last.” He pointed to the older couple. “My parents, Fred and Evelyn. Lisa, her husband Micah with their three—my nieces Autumn and Quinn, and nephew little C.J. Best kids ever.”
And probably the only children he’d ever have in his life, as he’d never have his own. The old pain threatened to rear its ugly head again before he tamped it down. No use wallowing in old mud.
“C.J. For …?”
“Colton James.” His face warmed. “Named for me with Micah’s middle name.”
“What’s your middle name?”
“Brooks. My mother’s maiden name.”
“I like that. Sounds distinguished.”
“Yeah, I was misnamed.”
Her laugh brought a smile to his face, as it always did. Seemed he’d been doing more of that lately.
“How nice that you have a little namesake.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You and your sister must be close.”
“Since we were kids. She’s five years younger than me and, of course, I always thought I had to watch out for her.”
Turning away from the shelf, she scanned a grouping of pictures on the wall, her eyes coming to rest on an eight-by-ten of him and a striking blonde, their cheeks pressed together as they smiled into the camera. His heart squeezed as she stared at it for a moment before moving on. Seemed very un-Riley-like of her not to ask, but he welcomed her restraint. He never relished dredging up those memories.
“You know, we’re not altogether different, you and I.” She spoke while still perusing the photographs, mostly of his family, some of trips he’d taken with friends. Many with their golf bags standing next to them.
“How’s that?”
“We both care about people … enjoy taking care of people. Our lives revolve around it, and we’d never even consider doing anything else. It’s what we do. Who we are.”
“Hmm. I guess you’re right. And speaking of helping people, we need to get to your place, then back to the estate, where you’re the safest.”
“Okay.” She followed him back through the kitchen to the garage. “I like your house, by the way. Did you do the decorating?”
“Sort of.”
