Luke: Christmas Day
The last time Willow ran out on me was eleven years ago, but the memory was so sharp, I could still recall the unfamiliar stiffness of my rented suit.
This time, at least I’d known her departure was imminent. Though I’d thought we’d have the night together, I was well aware Willow would be leaving San Dante and I may never see her again.
I’d had time to prepare myself. The only unexpected part was that she’d taken off early. When I got back to the wedding reception, I found she’d already left town. But I understood why she had.
So why did I feel so bad?
I shook my head, wishing I could somehow rid myself of every memory I had of Willow, until I could think of her without feeling like there was a knife in my chest.
The wedding had been four days ago, and it was clearly going to take a whole lot longer than that to be able to accept my short relationship with Willow was over.
Moodily, I pulled up some surveillance footage on my computer. I was alone in the pen at the station. Christmas was a busy time, and everyone who’d been rostered on to work was currently out. The radio chatter was constant, and I could hear someone yelling from the intake area.
“What are you doing here?” asked a familiar voice from the door.
I turned to see Mason heading in. “I work here,” I said. “What about you?”
“I just dropped in to pick up the paperwork I left behind.” He grabbed a folder off the desk he’d been using.
“Well, I’m reviewing some surveillance footage for a case,” I said, though I’d really come in because it was Christmas Day and I didn’t want to mope around the house, microwave a meal, and watch bad TV.
I hit the Play button to start the footage rolling as Mason dropped into the chair next to mine.
“Anything interesting?” he asked.
“This guy murdered his wife, and we have footage of him going into his house with not one, but three attractive women.” I pointed to the screen. “See?”
“Think he’s celebrating?”
“Either that, or he’s making them eggnog.”
Mason chuckled. “Is eggnog a euphemism?”
“How can a murderer be so successful with women?” I grumbled.
“Must have some killer moves.”
I rolled my eyes and pressed Pause on the recording. “Aren’t you having Christmas dinner with your family?”
“Yep. Heading there now.” Mason unfolded his large body from the chair and stood up. “You don’t have any plans?”
“I don’t have much in the way of family now my sister’s moved to Australia.” I shrugged with a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “It’s not so bad. Means I’m free to work.”
Mason’s frown deepened, and I could tell he wasn’t buying my act. “I’m having dinner with Dad and my brothers. There’s plenty of food, and Kade’s cooking, so you know it’ll be good. Come and eat with us.”
Kade was a famous chef, but despite the temptation, I shook my head. “Thanks for offering, but I have twenty hours of footage to review.”
“It’s Christmas. And you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted Kade’s pumpkin pie. I don’t know what he does to it, but you’ll eat until your stomach explodes and still want more.”
“Sounds like fun, but I wouldn’t be great company.”
Spending time with a family as close as his would only make me more aware of everything lacking in my life. Better to be alone so I wouldn’t bring anyone else down with me.
Mason’s brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t think you are.”
I gave a reluctant grimace. “Guess I’m not feeling very festive.”
“Because Willow left?”
I thought about denying it for a moment, then shrugged. “Is it that obvious?”
“Have you considered going to Vegas to tell her how you feel?”
“You think I should give up my career to be with her?”
His eyes widened and he held up his big hands in a whoa gesture. “Wait. No. That’s not what I said. Is that what you’re thinking about doing?”
“Of course not.” I sighed, conflicted. “All right, maybe it’s crossed my mind. I’m afraid if I let her go, I’ll always regret it.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Fish. Sea. All of that stuff. Give it time, you’ll feel better. You could meet someone else.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
He started to shake his head, then rubbed the back of his neck as though reconsidering. “Maybe once. A long time ago.”
Curious, I quirked an eyebrow. “Anyone I know?”
“You remember Carlotta Watson? Daughter of Trixie Watson, my dad’s neighbor and arch-nemesis.”
“Carlotta? Really! Talk about fanning the flames of war.”
“We were best friends once. Not anymore.” He shook his head. “Anyway, ancient history.”
“Have you seen her lately?”
“No, and I’m not going to. Like I said, I’m going back to Houston. I’m on the brink of taking out some of the Medea Cartel’s key players.”
I let out a low, impressed whistle. The Medea drug cartel was notoriously ruthless. “That’s major league stuff.”
“No time for love in my life,” he agreed. “Work’s what matters.”
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound melancholic. “Work is good.”
Besides, the empty, hollow feeling in my gut would get better eventually. At least, I hoped it would. Maybe in a few weeks or months, I’d be able to stop thinking about Willow so much.
“Hey, what happened to the cop who lifted Willow’s dress at the wedding?” asked Mason. “What’s his name? Gus?”
“He’s been stood down from work pending an investigation. But I’ve been asking around and found a few other women who have been harassed by him in the past. I’m collecting their statements, so he’ll be kicked off the force at least. And there’s a good chance he’ll be convicted. I’d like to see him do time.”
“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy.” Mason went to the door. “Come and eat with my family, Luke. I won’t take no for an answer. You can’t spend Christmas alone.”
I stared at the frozen image on my screen. Three smiling women and one murderous asshole. Last thing I wanted was to watch him enjoying himself.
“Okay,” I said, giving in. “Thanks. I’ll come for an hour or two.”
Taking my own car, I followed Mason to his father’s house. The house wasn’t decorated for Christmas, except for one thing. In his father’s small front yard was a large blow-up Santa.
Only the Santa was positioned side-on and bending over. And its pants were lowered.
“Santa’s mooning Trixie’s house?” I called to Mason as I got out of my car. The blow-up Santa wore a cheerful grin. It really was a masterpiece of inflatable art.
Mason was standing on the steps that lead to his father’s front door. He grimaced. “I have no idea where Dad got that ugly thing, but I might need to sabotage his Internet access.”
“Is it his revenge for Trixie’s snow machine prank?”
“Yep. And do you see that thing on Trixie’s front porch?”
“What is it?” I squinted at the contraption as I joined him on his father’s steps.
“An automatic ball thrower for dogs. Trixie’s been loading the machine up with water balloons and firing them over. Their war never ends.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when Trixie’s door opened and she came out onto her porch wearing a huge, flowing white gown, with a gold hoop attached above her head like a halo. She was hauling a big, heavy-looking bucket, and stopped short when she saw us.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Watson,” called Mason.
“Merry Christmas, ma’am.” I gave her a wave.
Trixie put her bucket down and glowered at us. “Luke Penn? Seeing as you’re not a Lennox, I’ll give you a few minutes to get out of range. But you don’t want to be on that porch when my machine starts up again. This time, I’m not arming it with water.” Her tone implied that whatever was in her bucket was something far worse.
She may be dressed as an angel, but that was as far as the resemblance went.
“What about me?” asked Mason. “I’ve given you no reason to fire at me.”
“You’re a Lennox,” Trixie snapped. “And your father’s a miserable old fart knocker.”
Turning to me, Mason rolled his eyes. “We’d better get inside.”
Trixie stomped back into her house, and Mason opened his father’s front door. I caught the sound of male laughter and a delicious smell of cooking food. Music was playing softly, and the hallway was decorated with Christmas lights. It was warm and welcoming, and my chest instantly tightened.
“Mason, is that you?” I recognized Kade’s voice as he shouted from inside. “Come in and tell Dad that pumpkin pie isn’t a health food. He’s refusing to believe me.”
Asher came down the hallway to greet us and caught Mason in a hug, slapping him on the back. “About time you got here. Dad’s already opened his presents. Said he couldn’t wait.” He released his brother and stepped forward to shake my hand. “Hey, Luke. Glad you came.”
A hard lump had formed in my throat as I saw how warmly Asher greeted Mason. I missed my sister more than I could say. And all three of the Lennox brothers were exceptional. Kade was a famous chef, notorious for being photographed with beautiful women. Asher owned a construction company, and Mason was a hero, about to break up a drug cartel. They were busy men who didn’t usually get to spend much time together, and they should get to enjoy their meal without the negative influence of my dark mood.
I gave Mason and Asher an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I thought I could handle it, but I can’t stay. I’d just weigh the festivities down, and you deserve to have a good Christmas.”
“What are you talking about?” Mason growled.
“Don’t go,” Asher protested. “Come in and eat.”
I backed up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not good company. My mood could be contagious, and believe me, you don’t want that.”
Mason called into the house. “Kade, come out here and help us convince Luke to stay for dinner.”
“I’ll see you later.” I gave them a wave. “Merry Christmas.”
When Kade appeared in the doorway and the three brothers stood together, I knew I’d made the right decision. They reminded me of the things I didn’t have, and that made me want to howl.
Making more apologies and waving away their protests, I got in my car and drove away.
Tomorrow I’d probably feel just as crappy as I did today, but at least Christmas would be over. I’d be able to bury myself in work and try to lock Willow out of my head.
Somehow.
I went home to my cold, empty, undecorated apartment. After heating up instant macaroni that was a disturbing shade of neon yellow, I logged into a shoot-em-up game on my computer and tried to forget about my miserable Christmas by blasting several dozen alien soldiers into gory oblivion.
Only I couldn’t concentrate.
I held out until ten o’clock, then switched off the game and started pacing instead.
What was I still doing here? Shouldn’t I be in Vegas, telling Willow how I felt about her?
I was rostered to work tomorrow, so I shouldn’t even consider getting on a flight. Especially when the promotion I’d been working toward could hang in the balance.
But I’d been waiting for Willow since I was eighteen and being with her had given me a glimpse of happiness I hadn’t even known could be a possibility.
I’d never been reckless, never even wanted to be. But a chance to be with Willow was worth taking risks for.
I was heading upstairs to throw a few things in a bag, when I thought I heard a tentative knock on my front door. I froze, listening, sure I had to be imagining things. Nobody had any reason to knock on my door at half past ten on any night, let alone at Christmas.
Unless…
Whoever it was knocked again.
My heart leapt, even though there was no way it could be Willow. She’d be far too busy with her business to come back to San Dante, or even to be obsessing over me the way I was over her. She said she’d be run off her feet over Christmas, so imagining she could have left Vegas to pay me an expected visit was nothing but wishful thinking.
No, it must be a friend checking up on me. Maybe Mason, worried about the way I’d taken off. I’d reassure him quickly, so I could head to the airport.
I’d wasted enough time worrying about my career.
Now it was time to go and get the girl.