Love, Lies and Mistletoe. Jennifer Snow
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“You’re talking.”
“Sorry.” He stared out the window for a long moment, then he said, “What are you doing, anyway?”
She cocked her head as she glanced over the top of the computer. “You barely talk to anyone around here, unless it’s to yell at them about a hazardous front step or something, and now you can’t shut up?”
“I don’t yell. I ask. They ignore. So, what are you working on?”
“A résumé,” she said, lowering her voice.
“Don’t you already have two jobs in town?”
“It’s for a job in New York.”
“What kind of job?”
“One I won’t get if I don’t send this. Hold on,” she said, typing a few more things.
He watched her lips move as she scanned the screen in front of her.
Cute.
In fact, if he allowed himself the opportunity to look, she was cute. Long, dark hair that once again smelled like peppermint and waved around her shoulders beneath the purple hat she wore. Her hazel eyes had flecks of gold around the center that resembled a starburst, and her long, thin neck was exposed beneath her slightly open scarf.
“What’s with the hat and scarf inside?” It was like eighty degrees inside the crowded diner.
“I’m always cold,” she said, closing her laptop.
“Done?” he asked.
“Yes.” She gathered her things and stood, sliding her arms into her jacket.
“You’re leaving?”
Reaching for her coffee cup, she drained the contents. “Yes. You already said you just wanted my table.”
“But you were going to tell me about the job in New York.” Any opportunity to talk about the city made him feel better. Being around a fellow New York native somehow made him feel better, too. Probably why he found himself at the pool hall bar far too often.
“No, I wasn’t.” She tapped his shoulder as she passed him on her way to the door. “You’re not the only one around here who can be mysterious. Bye, Sheriff Matthews.”
Jacob turned in the booth to watch her leave, fighting an odd sense of disappointment. He had a table; what did he care if she wasn’t sticking around to eat with him? Eating alone hadn’t bothered him before. Doing everything alone in Brookhollow hadn’t bothered him before. But lately...
As the holiday season drew closer, he felt the void of family and friends much more than usual. For the two years he’d spent undercover, he’d been unable to slip away to see Amber and Kyle on Christmas Day. He swallowed hard. This year was supposed to have been different, their first Christmas together as a family. Some of their family, anyway.
Heather passed Sheriff Bishop on his way into the diner. She said something to him before leaving, and the man laughed, his gaze immediately landing on Jacob.
Great. He turned back in the booth and caught April’s arm. “Can I please order?” he asked, his glucose monitor beeping again.
“Sure.” She glanced toward the kitchen, then leaned closer to fill his coffee cup. “And I saw you helping Ginger just now,” she whispered, “so I’ll try to make sure they don’t do anything to your food this time.”
This time? He’d been eating at Joey’s almost every day for weeks. How often were his meals tampered with? “Why are they messing with my food?” And they claimed people in small towns were nice.
“Because you keep messing with them,” she said.
“How?”
“The fine for the parking out back.”
“It’s a fire lane,” he argued.
“And then the expired liquor license thing.”
“They need a valid license.” Give me a break. They were angry at him for holding them responsible for breaking the law? Besides, those warnings had come from Sheriff Bishop—Jacob had just been the messenger.
“All I’m saying is, I know you’re probably bored out of your mind—”
Understatement.
“—with the lack of real crimes around here, but maybe don’t focus so heavily on the place that feeds you,” she said with a wink. “Now—eggs Benedict?”
“Yes, preferably without spit,” he mumbled.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said as Sheriff Bishop joined them. “How’s my favorite sheriff today?”
Subtle.
Jacob took a sip of his coffee. Lukewarm.
“I’m great, April. Just coffee, please,” Sheriff Bishop said.
“You got it. I’ll go grab a fresh pot.”
Jacob sighed.
“Eating alone?” the older man asked.
“Have a seat, please,” he said, staring out the window. Across the street, he saw Ginger chipping away at the block of ice outside her front door. Unbelievable.
“How’s it going?” Sheriff Bishop asked.
“Fantastic,” Jacob grumbled.
“It’ll get easier. Once they get to know you a bit, they’ll warm up.”
He didn’t want them to warm up; he wanted to get back to his life in the city. Besides, how was anyone supposed to get to know him when he couldn’t be honest about who he was and why he was there? And while everyone thought he was a major annoyance? So for that much, he couldn’t blame them. “Well, having to issue all of these warnings aren’t helping.”
The man smiled. “Ah, they’ll get over it. We’ve been down a sheriff since the last guy retired, and I’ve been too soft on them. Give them time.”
He didn’t want to give them time. He wanted to leave Brookhollow. “Have you heard anything?” Jacob asked quietly. He’d asked the same question every day for four months. The answer was never promising.
April returned with fresh coffee and poured a cup for Sheriff Bishop and graciously topped his up with the hot liquid, checking to make sure Tina wasn’t watching.
“Thanks.”
When she left, Sheriff Bishop shook his head. “Nothing.”
Jacob sighed. He knew the NYPD had guys on the case, and that they were doing everything they could to bring Lorenzo in, so Jacob could testify against him and then return to his life, but he also knew the department was being careful. They weren’t about to get aggressive, risking the lives of several other officers, just to bring him back. That was assuming he even had a job to go back to. Blacking out and compromising his position had raised flags about Jacob’s ability to do his job effectively.
Heck, even he was questioning his ability.
Which was exactly why he was here. He had an informant working on the docks at the Port of Newark Terminal, and Jacob was expecting the guy to give him a “wrong number” call when he knew Lorenzo would be there. And that would be Jacob’s cue to move in. Disobeying orders and getting involved with a case that he’d been removed from was wrong, but it was his only opportunity to prove that he could still be a valuable member of the force.
And if it was just his life to consider, he might be able to show more patience and resolve, waiting for either the department to catch Lorenzo or the call from Emilio in Newark.
“Anything from Amber or Kyle?” he asked.
“There may be something in your locker at the station,”