Her Mistletoe Protector
He remembered their last conversation and paused, unsure how to greet her. Not with a hug. Not with the way things had ended. A handshake seemed too formal when considering their past relationship. Instead, he settled for putting his gun away and making an effort to relax his shoulders.
He and Ashley had met at a mutual friend’s house on New Year’s Eve more than a decade ago, and it had been a textbook case of love at first sight. Not only had he instantly thought she was beautiful, but her smile, her love for life, her hope for the future had hooked him. She’d pulled him out of the shell he easily sucked himself into—most people didn’t see it because he’d hidden it well with easygoing small talk. But Ashley had always seen right through him. She had a way about her that made him open up.
Their two years together were filled with easy, effortless moments. Relationships like that didn’t happen often. Six months before the wedding, he’d called things off.
Ashley brushed a hair out of her face and licked her lips. Her eyes implored him. “I’m sorry to show up here, but I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice sounded tight and strained.
He reached toward her, compassion and concern pounding through his veins, but his hand dropped midway. “Are you okay?”
She hesitated and then shook her head. Those wide, pleading eyes met his again. “I need your help.”
He stared at her another moment, thoughts and emotions colliding inside him. His help? What could he possibly help her with? Whatever it was, his gut told him it was serious. “Let’s go inside. Get you out of the cold.”
As she stepped closer, Christopher wanted to soak her in, to absorb all the changes in her over the past several years. But he couldn’t do that. It was no longer his right.
He unlocked the door, noticing that she was shivering uncontrollably. From the cold? Or from something deeper?
He flipped the light on in the entryway and dust bunnies floated across the wooden floor. Perhaps he’d neglected housekeeping more than he should have. He offered an apologetic grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. I would have straightened up some.”
She stepped inside, her face grim with...sorrow? Fear? Grief? His grin slipped. With a hand on her back, he led her into the living room where boxes still waited along the walls for him to unpack.
She shivered again. “Believe me. I wasn’t expecting to be here. I only came here because I was desperate.”
The brutal honesty of her words stung. She’d made it clear when they last talked that she never wanted to see him again. Christopher couldn’t blame her. Things had ended badly. He’d made the best decision possible at the time. But in hindsight, he’d wondered if it was the worst decision ever.
He didn’t have time to think about what could have been now. Instead, he led her to the couch, one that had been left here by his grandfather. This was probably the same sofa that had been here back when he and Ashley were dating, when they used to come over and play dominoes with his granddad. “Have a seat.”
She lowered herself and folded her arms across her chest. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and trembles still claimed her muscles. Her gaze pulled on his. “I’m in trouble, Christopher. I didn’t know where else to go.”
His jaw flexed under the weight of her words, but he nodded. “Go on.”
“My brother and nephew have been kidnapped, and you’re the only one who can help.”