Page 68 of Mistletoe and Malice
“I’ll go make those calls. You both have a good day. Stay safe.”
The door closed behind him, and Colton kneeled beside her chair again. “Have you talked with anybody since this all started?”
“I’ve talked to a lot of people. The police, my family, the girls. You.”
“I mean someone professionally.”
“Like a shrink?”
“Or a counselor. A victim’s advocate. Someone who can help.”
The back of her neck tingled, like hackles rising on a wolf protecting its territory. “I’m not a victim, Colton. I don’t need help.”
He took her hand. “Ri, you’re not sleeping. You work like a madwoman. It’s like you’re frantic. Keep busy. Keep moving. Stay awake. You’re going to collapse at this rate. You know that. It’s only a matter of time.”
Tears welled up again, and she put her head down, pinching the bridge of her nose to keep them at bay.
“It’s all right to cry. I wish you would. I was hoping the day I found you in the family room you would have a good cry.”
The quiet plea in his voice, the earnestness in his eyes, the warmth of his hand around hers—what she should find strength in, she instead found a weakening to give in to her disintegrating emotions. But if she did, could she climb her way out?
Pulling her shoulders back, she pulled her hand out of his and pushed away the temptation to crumble. “I hate crying. It makes me feel out of control.”
“I understand. But you need an outlet. Don’t fight the emotions trying to get out. Feel the fear, deal with it, and let it work for you. Not against you.”
She stared at him long and hard, wishing like mad he’d pull her close. Let her curl up into him. Hide there until this was all over. Where she’d be safe.
Until he left her. Until his work was done and he let her go and walked out of her life. He was there to do a job. But it was a temp job.
She picked up the rest of her mail. “I’m fine. I’m not going to let this guy do this to me. I’m not his victim. I’m his target, but not his victim.”
He sighed and stood. “What can I do to help you?”
“You’re doing it.” She kept her focus on the letter in her hand without seeing the words. “By doing your job.”
The silence stretched, but she didn’t dare look up. The temptation to curl into him, and the rejection that would surely follow, would be too much to bear.
“Okay.” He moved to the door but turned back. “I know you blame me for pulling you off the line at the Thanksgiving dinner. That it’s my fault we missed him. But did you ever consider those fifteen minutes might’ve saved your life?That’smy job, Riley. You’re my first priority. And something told me you needed to get off the line. Knowing he was right in front of the servers has me believing it was the Spirit nudging me to get you out of harm’s way.”
He opened the door. “I’m going to go talk to Hallie.”
After her door shut behind him, she rounded her shoulders and dropped the letter to the desk. She put her forehead in her hand. If she’d wanted to put him in his place, she’d certainly succeeded.
Except that wasn’t what she’d intended, knowing he’d been trying to help her. But after he’d prayed with her … her hand held snug in his … those precious few moments with him at the foot of the Throne. It had all felt so intimate … so personal. Just the three of them—God, Colton, and her—an island of peace amidst the chaos her life had become since this person … this evil … had intruded upon it.
But maybe a little distance was warranted. Emotionally. To guard her heart. She relied on him too much. To protect her. To hold her up.
And she couldn’t lose herself to a man who wouldn’t stay.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
This was going to be a long evening. In an even longer week. And it was only Wednesday.
Colton sat alone at a corner table in the small Italian restaurant, sipping a glass of water, raking his gaze back and forth. Trevor occupied another table across the dining room, both of them trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
The rich aroma of pasta in tomato and meat sauce blended with a steady hum of conversation punctuated with bouts of laughter. Fat bottles wrapped in twine with dripping white candles sat on each table. The low light made their job that much harder, but it certainly lent itself to an otherwise romantic setting.
After being reminded of his place in Riley’s life by the woman herself, the past three days had been more like that first Sunday. His first day on her detail, when she sat rigid and seething in the pew next to him while he’d wanted out of this assignment as soon as possible.
