Chapter 1 5 Days till Christmas #2
What sense did that make?
But Lucas refrained from comment.
He paid their bill, they shrugged into their jackets and headed home. Home being Lucas’ hillside chalet, which was within walking distance of the village.
They spent a companionable evening watching TV and having another drink. All their evenings were companionable; they were very compatible. Maybe Riley was quieter than usual—which was saying something, since he was not exactly a chatterbox—and maybe a little reserved?
He wasn’t distant, certainly wasn’t sulking. It was nothing Lucas could really put his finger on.
But there was something…
Something that, after waking an hour ago to find Riley had indeed already left for the office, compelled Lucas to drag his ass out of bed and hightail it over to the Pine Cone Café where he’d been waiting for fifteen minutes in near-subzero temps to get this frou-frou coffee.
Special Agent Christopher, inexplicably, had a taste for such things.
Mission accomplished. Eventually.
The Silver Sleigh Mocha turned out to be a decadently sweet iced coffee with a swirl of caramel and dusting of cocoa on the whipped cream—the finishing touch was silver edible glitter.
Lucas felt queasy just looking at it. It was too pretty (and way too sugary) to actually drink, but Lucas had seen Riley down an Iced Sugarplum Bliss, which was iced coffee infused with a hint of plum syrup and vanilla, topped with whipped cream and purple sugar crystals, with no apparent ill effects.
(Although, come to think of it, that was the very night Riley had come up with his 12-Days-Or-Else, so who could say?)
His precious cargo stowed in the console cupholder, Lucas made the short drive to the office, nearly concealed by the wall of towering Ponderosas.
Riley’s SUV was in the parking lot but there was no other sign of life.
Lucas parked next to Riley’s vehicle and got out.
The wintery air smelled like pine trees and snow.
“Christmassy” according to tourists, but in fact, that was how Silver Pines smelled a good six months out of the year.
He carried his coffee and Riley’s liquid dessert to the back door, typed his code into the keypad, and let himself inside the small, single-story building.
The tidal rush of wind through the pines snapped off as the security door settled silently into place.
The overhead lights were still off, and the entire office was cloaked in a soft and sleepy gloom.
Lucas made his way to the bullpen, the fuzzy glow of emergency exit signs illuminating empty desks and pushed-in chairs.
A modest string of unlit Christmas lights stretched across the room.
A few Christmas cards and holiday mugs littered the otherwise tidy space.
Heading down the hallway, he absently registered the faint buzz from powered-down computers and the softly whirring HVAC system, the smell of industrial cleaning supplies, the subtle scents of paper, ink, and printer toner…
and the faint but familiar fragrance of Dove Men+ soap and Proraso aftershave.
Cause I’m already lonely
And I don’t know what to do
Lucas’ mouth curved as he picked up the faint sound of music. SafetySuit. One of Riley’s favorite bands.
They did not share similar musical tastes.
He preferred blue collar rock and roll. Springsteen or Chris Stapleton or (at Riley’s urging) The Gaslight Anthem.
But he’d developed a tolerance for pop-pop rock/alternative rock/ alternative rock-pop-rock-whatever-you-called-it.
Peppy emotional breakdown in musical form?
Riley’s music meant Riley was nearby, and that was always going to be okay in Lucas’ book.
Plus, they both hated Coldplay, so that was something.
Whoa oh, whoa oh, whoa oh
I want you to notice me
Yeah. No worry there. Lucas would have to be dead not to notice Riley.
Lucas passed the case board, barely glancing at the gallery of pinned-up photos, maps, and notes of ongoing investigations, making straight for Riley’s office with his peace offering.
From the angle of the doorway, he was able to see Riley—well, Riley’s boots, which were propped on the edge of the tidy desk—before Riley saw him.
And, as always, the sight of Riley—or apparently even Riley’s boots—was enough to warm his heart. And if that was a cliché, so what? Like a lot of clichés, it was also the truth.
It was hard to say what it was about Riley that made him so damned attractive.
Well, no. He was a good-looking guy, no question, but his kind of good looks were not the brand trending on TikTok.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a black-and-white war film—maybe the kind where the hero didn’t come back.
Square-jawed, clear-eyed, with the type of bone structure that used to grace cigarette ads and military recruiting posters.
His wavy hair was the color of brown that looked red in certain light.
Chestnut? His eyes were a striking blue.
He was just over medium height, and wiry.
Built for speed rather than heft. But he had a presence that conveyed solid authority.
Authority, stoicism, and reliability. He was all of those things.
Looking at him, you’d never think he had a sense of humor.
But he did. He laughed easily, saw the humor in most situations.
Lucas found his quiet laugh one of the most pleasant sounds in the world.
He also had a terrific smile. In fact, Lucas had been a goner from the first time Special Agent Riley Christopher turned those baby blue eyes on him and then offered that rueful, boyish grin.
Riley wasn’t smiling at the moment, however.
He was leaning back in his chair, long legs comfortably crossed.
It looked like he’d been reading through a stack of old case files, though he was now gazing attentively toward the doorway.
He’d have heard the security door, of course; sometimes Lucas suspected Riley had infrasonic hearing, like an elephant. To match that inconvenient memory.
“Hey,” Riley said as Luc came into view. He did not seem particularly surprised to see him.
Lucas held up the poly-coated paper cup. “I brought you coffee.”
“That was nice of you.”
“I’m a nice guy.”
“No argument here.”
No? Because Lucas couldn’t help feeling like there was some ongoing argument.
He said, “The Silver Sleigh Mocha as recommended by the Silver Pine Sentinel.”
Riley took the coffee, examined it, and laughed. The laugh seemed genuine. His light eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you.”
That sounded genuine, too, and Lucas relaxed a little.
He took the chair in front of Riley’s desk. “What are you doing?”
Riley was one of the few men on the planet who could suck a mound of whipped cream through a straw and still look like a badass. He released the straw and said, “Going through the cold case files.”
“Why?”
They were a small RA. They didn’t have a ton of cold cases, though there were a few file folders containing the details on the handful of unsolved bank robberies, kidnappings, and murders that had occurred in their jurisdiction over the last half century.
Riley shrugged. “Why not? Since I’m here anyway. Might as well.”
Lucas couldn’t help observing, “It’s not like you have to be here.”
Instead of answering, Riley took another long suck of his overpriced coffee.
He had a very sexy mouth. When he wasn’t delivering ultimatums.
“I can’t help feeling like your coming in here this morning is pointed.” Lucas was careful to keep his tone neutral. He did not want an argument. He wanted to fix this thing between them.
Riley dislodged the straw and said, “Of course it is.”
“Well, whatever the point is, I’m not getting it. You were saying I need to prioritize our relationship, but you just blew off our weekend.”
“Did you have plans for the weekend?” Riley inquired with interest.
Lucas frowned. “What does that mean? Yes. I had plans that we would spend a little quality time together without having to be in the office at the crack of dawn.”
Riley didn’t smile, but his mouth took on a derisive curve. “Sure.”
“Sure? What’s that mean?” Despite his best effort, exasperation crept into Lucas’ tone. “I don’t understand what’s got into you, Riley.”
Riley started to answer, but seemed to rethink. He said, matching Lucas’ even tone, “Okay. I understand. It’s disappointing when you were looking forward to something and it doesn’t happen.”
Not subtle. Lucas started to respond, but Riley was still talking.
“But the fact is, I’m on call this weekend.”
Lucas said shortly, “Okay. Got it. You don’t like being agent on duty—”
Riley said levelly, “I don’t like being agent on duty every single fucking weekend. No. I’ve got no problem taking my turn, but I’ve been on duty nearly every weekend for the past three years. There are people in this office who believe I must’ve done something to seriously piss you off.”
Lucas felt himself turn color at the idea his team was discussing, speculating on, his relationship with Riley.
Not just that, though that was bad enough.
The idea that his people believed he was that unfair, that petty?
So petty that he’d punish Riley—anyone, really, but especially an agent as able and hardworking as Riley—with shitty assignments?
He had his faults, no question, but he was not petty or mean-spirited, and the idea that anybody who worked for him thought he was, stung.
Riley added, “The only weekends I haven’t been on call were the two weeks I was on sick leave.”
The reminder of last March’s accident caught Lucas off-balance, as if he’d hit a sudden patch of ice—which was what had happened to Riley.
He’d been accompanying a county sheriff’s deputy attempting to serve a search warrant on a suspect living off-grid in the forested area surrounding Silver Pine.
Their vehicle hit a stretch of black ice and the deputy’s SUV had skidded and gone over an embankment.
Between the wooded terrain and snow cover, the SUV hadn’t been found for ten very long hours.
Deputy Fudali had been killed almost instantly.
Riley, securely buckled in the passenger seat, had sustained mostly superficial injuries, but he’d been pinned for hours in freezing temperatures with the dead deputy.
By the time he’d been airlifted to safety he was suffering from shock, hypothermia, and a mild concussion.
The psychological toll…
Hard to say, because other than that first night in the hospital, he’d said very little about it.
To Lucas, anyway. He’d gone through a CISM debriefing, of course, and he’d been offered and accepted peer support.
He’d been cleared for duty without any problem.
Unsurprisingly, he’d dealt with what had surely been a traumatic ordeal with maturity and, sure, his usual stoicism.
More patiently, Lucas said, “Is that what this is about? The accident?”
“Yeah. Probably. I can’t deny that nearly dying makes you think.”
“Sure. What are you thinking?”
Riley’s brows shot up. “You mean about us?”
Lucas nodded tersely.
“Just… What I said. I want to know—I want to feel—” He stopped there.
Great. If he couldn’t put it into words, how the hell was Lucas supposed to figure out what he wanted?
“You want me to prove that I prioritize you.”
“Us.”
“Okay. Us. But I don’t know what that means or how I do that.
What do you want from me?” The whole conversation was baffling, frustrating.
Lucas rarely lost his temper, but he didn’t like feeling he was being presented with a test he was guaranteed to fail.
“I don’t want to play games. Just tell me what you want. ”
Riley’s eyes flickered at his tone. He removed his feet from his desk, , said shortly, “I want to feel like this matters to you.”
“Of course this matters.” And now Lucas was completely out of patience. “For God’s sake! What do you think I’m doing here? I want a relationship with you. I’m happy to have a relationship with you. I’m happy with you. Okay?”
Riley actually did a doubletake like he’d only now got a good look at Lucas. He said, “Oh.”
It wasn’t a happily surprised oh. It was an oh-now-I-get-it, and it further aggravated Lucas who suddenly realized he was being an asshole—and he wasn’t even sure why. He didn’t like feeling forced into…making a commitment? Was that what Riley wanted?
Because… Lucas had sort of thought they were committed. In the ways that actually mattered.
“You’re a priority. I love you. You know that,” Lucas clipped out.
It wasn’t the first time he’d told Riley he loved him.
He’d told him that night in the hospital.
He’d held Riley’s hand all night—though neither of them were the hand-holding type—and he’d told Riley he loved him.
Told him more than once. Told him other things, too, things he’d never said to anyone else and never would because, for him, there was only Riley.
“Yeah, I know,” Riley was equally terse. “I love you, too.”
Not satisfied with knowing he was an asshole—and that Riley also knew he was an asshole—Lucas opted to go full monster.
He rose. “Great. So can we dispense with the games and the doom countdown and get back to work?”
The look on Riley’s face—that instant of naked, unguarded hurt. Lucas did not expect that. Had not intended that. Did not know what to do about it.
But the next moment the look was gone.
“You got it.” Riley turned back to the cold case files.
The uneasy suspicion that he’d won the battle but lost the war followed Lucas out of Riley’s office and all the way down the hall to his own.
.