Page 71 of Mistletoe and Malice
“Colton!”
Standing a few feet away, he grimaced as he held a hand to his eye.
She hurried to the island and put her Bible down on the counter. “I’m so sorry.”
“S’okay.” He took his hand away, glanced at it, and put it back.
“Oh, no, you’re bleeding. Let’s get some ice for that, or you’ll have one whopper of a goose egg.”
She grabbed a paper towel and took him by the arm to walk him to the table. She nudged his hand away from the cut over hisright eyebrow and pressed the towel to it. “Hold this here. I’ll get some ice.”
“Really, Riley. It’s not necessary.”
She ignored his protest as she grabbed several cubes out of the freezer and put them in a plastic bag she rolled up in a dish towel.
“Here.” She moved his hand again, taking the paper towel with it, and put the make-shift ice pack gently against his forehead. “This should keep the swelling down.”
“Thanks.”
She stood next to him holding the towel. He’d once again made a middle-of-the-night visit to the kitchen in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, this one touting the Houston Astros logo.
“I really am sorry, Cole. I didn’t notice any light coming from under the door.”
“I’d just flipped it off a few seconds before you came in.”
“And almost knocked you flat. I feel terrible.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not a big deal.”
“I just can’t stand that I hurt you.” In more ways than one.
“Riley, chill.” He took the towel from her. “I’ll hold it. You do whatever it was you came down here to do.”
“Well … all right. I was going to make myself some hot chocolate. Would you like some?”
“Actually, yeah. That sounds good.”
“Coming right up.”
She busied herself with her task, concentrating on the hum of the refrigerator to give her heart rate a chance to slow to its natural rhythm. They hadn’t been alone since that morning in her office. The day she’d been terrified and he’d tried to help, and all she wanted was for him to hold onto her. Wrap her in his arms where nothing could touch her.
Her comment about his doing his job hadn’t been meant to hurt him. She’d needed to get her perspective on track,remindherselfof his place in her life. Because, if truth be told, she’d been considering him less her bodyguard and more like someone … special. Even knowing the futility of such thinking.
“Have you been working all this time?” His question cut into the silence.
“Nope. Just can’t get my mind to shut down.” She stirred hot milk into two cups with powdered hot chocolate mix. Maybe it wasn’t the from-scratch stuff Hilda made, but it always did the trick in the middle of the night.
“Tell me you’re not losing sleep over Graham of the Fort Worth Hardings.”
Chuckling, she shook her head. “Not Graham. I feel bad he was hurt, but you were right. I should’ve said something a long time ago.”
“He’s a big boy. He’ll survive.”
“No doubt. But our friendship won’t, I don’t believe.” She walked their cups over to the table and put one in front of him before taking a seat. “So, if I may ask, what did he say to you? On his way out that night?”
He shrugged, still holding the towel-wrapped ice pack to his head. “Nothing really. Seems to have the idea I had something to do with you sending him packing.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t even mention you.”
