Page 183 of Eight Years Gone

He wiggled his brow. “I can get behind that idea.”

She laughed. “Then I was thinking about heading out to take some pictures when it warms up a little.”

He nodded as he captured her hand, playing with her fingers. “It’s been a while since you’ve had a chance to get out your camera.”

“Mm-hmm. We could catch a movie after if you want.”

Sure.” He laced their fingers. “Is the Christmas tree on the agenda?”

“That’s next weekend.” She winced as she shook her head, realizing she sounded bossy. “Or that’s when I usually do it. Typically, after the Thanksgiving rush and Thanksgiving Day, I need a little break before moving on to the next holiday.”

He nodded. “I get it. Next weekend sounds perfect.”

She smiled, loving that this was her reality. Not even four months ago, she would never have believed that she could have this again—that life could be this good. “Our first Christmas together in such a long time. And now we have Colton with us, too.”

“It’s going to be a great one.”

She nodded because she planned to do it up big. “We can drive to the farm and pick out our tree.”

“Damn right. We’re sawing that thing down ourselves. And we’re introducing Colton to those homemade cider donuts they sell.”

She grinned as she nodded, remembering how they’d always come to Preston Valley to help Aunt Maggie and Asa with the Yuletide festivities—tree choosing, cutting, decorating, music, and treats. Now it was their turn to add to the tradition. “I was thinking of Friday afternoon for the tree. I always volunteer at the Toys for Tots fair, which is next Saturday.”

“Sign me up to join you for both.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She looked toward the table again as everyone laughed at something Colton said, and her smile returned. “This is good, Jagger. Things are good.”

He nodded. “We’re finding our way.”

She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, treasuring the feel of Jagger’s tough body settled against hers and the sounds of family in the next room. It had been a rough few months, but things were finally settling down.

She met his gaze again. “I’m looking forward to the next couple of days.”

“Ditto, baby.” He pulled her mouth to his. “Happy Thanksgiving, Gracie.”

She smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Forty-Eight

Jagger walked toward his car with a bag of Grace’s favorite croissants from Yum, the always-bustling bakery on Seventh Street. He glanced toward the overcast sky as the wind kicked up, smelling the impending snow in the air.

The forecast was calling for one to three inches overnight, which would be great for Grace’s pictures tomorrow afternoon.

Everything was on track for a relaxing next couple of days. The grocery shopping had been done. The laundry had been washed and folded. The bathrooms were clean. And tomorrow’s breakfast was officially taken care of.

He nearly stopped as he stepped off the sidewalk, noting the navy-blue Buick he’d seen twice throughout the day, parked two spaces down from the Stingray as he reached for the door handle on the busy street.

His shoulders automatically tensed in a way that they hadn’t since he’d been overseas—since he’d constantly been on guard. He knew when someone was watching him. His life had depended on it.

He noted a male driver and passenger, both wearing winter hats and jackets, fiddling with their phones as he casually looked around before getting behind the wheel.

Turning over his engine, he quickly backed out in the break in traffic, waiting to see if the LeSabre followed.

The vehicle backed up moments later, staying two car lengths behind him.

“Who the fuck are you?” he muttered, accelerating as he glanced in the rear and side mirrors while he drove through two green lights.

He’d made enemies over the years. As far as he knew, they had no idea who he really was or how to find him. But nothing was impossible.

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