Chapter 9
Natalie
Ileft the Timberbeast feeling mildly intoxicated. And it had nothing to do with the drink. Or Jensen Lakes.
Okay, maybe Jensen had a little bit to do with it. It was hard to imagine any woman spending time with a man like him and not feeling the force of his masculine charm.
But it wasn’t the alcohol or the company. It was the thrill of hunting a thief.
Honestly, it was silly. All we did was go to the tavern for a drink and eavesdrop on the locals. That was a typical Saturday night in Tilikum. But it had felt like more.
When I’d gone over to the jukebox and pretended to look through the songs, I’d imagined myself somewhere else—in a fancy hotel or a swanky party, like a scene from a spy movie. Then I’d turned to see Jensen watching me with that hint of a smirk on his lips and almost blushed with pleasure.
I needed to be careful or I was going to get carried away. I wasn’t a spy. I wasn’t a private detective or a thief hunter or whatever Jensen called himself. I was an ED nurse on strike, struggling to make ends meet right before Christmas.
Still, it had been fun. And where was the harm in that?
Jensen cast a glance at me as he drove, and the corner of his mouth lifted. That subtle grin of his was dangerous.
He was dangerous. And not because he chased art thieves for a living.
I turned toward the window, taking a deep breath to clear my head. Every time he looked at me, I felt the same thrill. Like we really were partners on an adventure, not strangers from different worlds.
But we were, and I couldn’t forget that. The last thing I needed was another hotshot in a suit to swoop in and screw up my life. Even if this one did look just as good in a flannel and jeans.
I was not going there. No matter what those dark eyes did to my insides.
“I’d call that a success,” he said. “A man with a pretentious reputation isn’t necessarily our suspect, but it gives us someone to look into.”
“It makes me want to drive by his house and see what they’re talking about with the statues. But I’m not actually sure where he lives.”
“What do you know about this fellow?”
“Not much. I vaguely remember when he moved to town. People were talking about him. He was single, so I think that had a lot to do with it. This place turns into a Jane Austen novel when a single man of means moves into the area.”
“Or when one is visiting and has the audacity to be British.”
“Very true. Your outfit seemed to help. Did you notice a difference?”
“I did. That was good advice.”
I smiled and made the mistake of meeting his eyes. My heart skipped at the intensity in his gaze. It was like he had a dial and knew exactly how to turn up the heat.
He broke eye contact—after all, he was driving—and I looked out the window again.
“So how do we find out if Julian Myers had anything to do with the theft?” I asked.
“I need to meet him.”
An idea popped into my mind. The Snowflake Ball. When was that? It seemed like the sort of thing a guy like Julian might attend. I took out my phone and searched.
“Looking for something?” he asked.
“Yes. The Snowflake Ball. It’s a big charity thing they have every year. All the well-to-do people in Tilikum and the surrounding towns attend. Especially the ones who want everyone to know they’re fancy.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Here it is. Tuesday night at the Grand Peak Hotel. But I have no idea how to get tickets.” I cast a glance at him. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not one of the fancy people in Tilikum.”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of it. Will you text me that link?”
“Sure. But I don’t have your number.”
“That’s an easy fix.”
He gave me his number, and I put him in my contacts, then texted him a link to the event. I was well aware that meant I’d just given him my number. And I could tell by the return of his smirk that he’d done it on purpose.
Well, we were working together while he was in town. It made sense for him to have my number.
We turned onto my street, and he parked in front of the house. With my hand on the door handle, I hesitated, oddly reluctant to get out. Once I stepped out of his car, I’d be back in the real world.
“Thank you again for your help,” he said, his voice disarmingly soft.
“You’re welcome. It was kind of fun, actually.”
“I enjoyed it as well.” He paused, and there was that hint of surprise in his tone again. “Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
I got out, and the real world hit me along with the cold night air. My brief fantasy of espionage faded, and I was back to being… me. Sister, aunt, nurse. Broke.
Boring.
I went inside, hoping Jensen did somehow get tickets to that event. Not because I cared about rubbing elbows with a bunch of small-town snobs in designer labels. Because infiltrating an event that required a dress and heels sounded deliciously adventurous.
And doing so with Jensen at my side? Dangerous or not, that idea was irresistible.
Going back to working nights when the strike was over was probably going to kill me. Rolling over in bed, I stretched my arms above my head. I was getting used to sleeping at night all too quickly.
When I went downstairs, signs of Annabel’s breakfast were all over the kitchen table. Nina must have made her eggs and toast. She’d also made coffee, so I helped myself to a cup.
The house was quiet, even for so early in the day, and I wondered if they’d gone somewhere. We didn’t have a Christmas tree yet, so maybe they’d gone to get one.
I decided I could help by bringing up the decorations from the basement. I went down the stairs where the fans and dehumidifiers still roared. At least everything looked dry, and condensation wasn’t building up anywhere.
Trying not to think about what it was costing us to rent those huge fans, I went to the closet where we kept our decorations.
We didn’t have a lot—just a few bins of lights and ornaments.
Fortunately, nothing on that side of the basement had gotten wet.
Losing our Christmas decorations would have made a bad situation that much worse.
Some of our ornaments were from when Nina and I were growing up.
I brought the bins upstairs one at a time and set them in the living room.
Still no sign of Nina and Annabel, so I figured I’d test the lights.
One Christmas, we’d forgotten to do that and didn’t realize half the strands were dead until they were already on the tree.
I didn’t want to make that mistake again.
The first bin was filled with ornaments.
I was about to push it aside when one of them caught my eye.
Sitting right on top, half covered with a scrap of torn tissue paper, was an old, homemade salt dough ornament in the shape of a stack of pancakes with a pat of butter and green and red sprinkles on top.
I hadn’t thought about it in years, but Christmas morning pancakes had been a Thatcher family tradition since Nina and I were young.
It was the red and green sprinkles that made them special.
Mom would mix them into the batter, and we’d scatter more on top, adding a sugary sparkle to our holiday breakfast.
Nina had made the pancake ornament when she was a kid. I couldn’t believe we still had it.
And it hit me. No wonder Annabel was so insistent on me being there for Christmas. Nina had continued the sprinkle pancake tradition, and Annabel wanted us all to be there for it. Together.
Nina’s car pulled up outside. Sniffling, I set the ornament back in the bin and swiped beneath my eyes. That had been an unexpected rush of feelings from an old ornament.
The door flew open, and Annabel rushed in. She kicked off her boots and dropped her coat on the floor.
“Auntie Natalie, I got coffee!”
Nina came in behind her and shut the door. “Where does your coat go?”
“Oops. Forgot.” She spun around and skipped back to the entry to hang her coat on the low hook just for her.
“Coffee?” I asked. “Because she doesn’t have enough energy?”
Nina smiled. “It was a hot chocolate, but it was from the Steaming Mug, so it was in the same kind of cup as Mommy’s and Auntie’s coffees. She was very excited.”
“Is that where you guys went?”
“Yeah.” Nina plopped down on the couch. “Miss Early Riser over there woke up before the sun did. I figured you could use some sleep, so we got out of the house. The coffee shop is open early, and for obvious reasons, I needed the caffeine. Win-win.”
“Thanks. I did need the sleep. It’s going to be a rough transition when I go back to work. It’s like we’re made to sleep at night.”
“Who knew?”
“Mommy, can I go play outside?” Annabel asked. “I put my boots back on.”
“Yes, but stay in the yard and put on your coat.”
“I’m not cold.”
“At least take it with you.”
“I will!”
Annabel scurried outside, slamming the door behind her.
“I thought you might have been out getting a tree,” I said.
“Yeah, we were going to do that yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Pressing her lips together, she glanced away. She only did that when she had something to hide.
“What’s that look for?” I asked.
“What look?”
“That one. The one that means you’re trying to keep a secret from me.”
“I don’t have a look.” Her lips turned up. She was totally trying not to smile. “Or a secret.”
“Liar.”
She blew out a breath. “Fine. But don’t make a big deal out of this. Because it’s probably nothing, and I don’t want Annabel to think something is going on.”
It was hard to contain my impatience. “Tell me while she’s still outside.”
“Okay, so, there’s this guy.”
I gasped.
“I know, I know. There’s never a guy. Except now…”
“Now there’s a guy.”
“Maybe. I mean, there is. But I’m not sure what’s going on yet.”
“Who is he? How did you meet? Tell me everything.”