Chapter Twenty-Nine

Eliot unclipped Hudson from his leash. He had taken the pooch for a walk after cooking breakfast.

“You sure you don’t want to go to Chicago for Christmas?” he asked Quinn as he entered the kitchen.

“No,” she replied, scrubbing the stovetop.

He grabbed a bottle of cleaner from under the sink and sprayed the appliance. He had ignored Quinn’s advice and cooked the bacon in a pan rather than in the microwave. The bacon was crisp and tasty, but the grease had flown everywhere. “If you’re concerned about road conditions, I’ll book us a flight.” He meant it. He would board a plane and spare her another long road trip.

“But you hate flying.”

“Don’t worry about me. You deserve the best Christmas ever.”

She dropped the scouring pad on the counter. “I have you. I have Raine. Dad’s coming to New York, and Paula and Malcolm are joining us for dinner. There’s nothing else I need.”

“I want the holidays to be perfect for you and Raine.”

“And it will be. Let’s pick out a tree today. Perhaps a Douglas fir or an Arizona cypress. They last longer than pine. And maybe later, I’ll bake cookies. Tomorrow we can build a gingerbread house.”

“You go all out.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. Whatever you want is good with me.” She could bring a reindeer into his apartment, and he wouldn’t object.

“I hope Raine will like what I have planned.”

He picked up the scouring pad and scraped the grease from the stove. “She’s in a real home, surrounded by love. That’s all a kid needs. Well, that and a dozen or so wrapped gifts.”

“Have you invited Omeir and Safia? I know they don’t do Christmas, so if they’re not comfortable coming for dinner, then—”

He burst into laughter.

“I’m babbling again, aren’t I?”

“Yup, and it’s adorable.” He gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “And I’ve talked to Safia. She’ll be happy to join us. I haven’t yet asked Omeir but count him in. Once I tell him Safia’s coming, he’ll accept. What about Gabby? Do you want to invite her and Kiefer?”

“They’re going to his folks.”

He wrapped his arms around her neck. “I’m excited too.” Since returning stateside, he spent Christmas day at the Wilsons’ home. He never felt entirely comfortable knowing how hard the holidays were for them without Ty. He also attended various holiday parties of well-intentioned colleagues. He used those gatherings to hook up with single ladies. There was plenty of loneliness around the holidays, so getting laid was easy. But this year, there would be no cozying up with a random stranger near the mistletoe. The only woman he intended to kiss was right here in his home. Seeing her go all out for his sister confirmed he was a damn lucky man. What he wouldn’t give to be worthy of Quinn’s love.

****

Christmas came at last. Eliot marveled at how Quinn had managed to tick off every single item on her ambitious to-do-list. He had tried talking Raine out of the crooked shaped fir tree, but she batted those lovely lashes, a trick she had learned from Quinn. Thankfully, his sexy artist girlfriend created handcrafted ornaments. The sad tree was now an array of beautiful colors. Raine never noticed flaws, not in the bare tree or him. She adored them both. Quinn wasn’t oblivious to his imperfections, but she loved him, nonetheless. He circled the tree and smiled. Perhaps finding an ugly tree would become a new Traversini tradition.

The Christmas dinner guests filtered in, filling his home with love and savory foods. Paula brought her special baked yam dish, and Safia brought baklava from Fazaris. Omeir prepared a tabbouleh salad, and Tom Merrick flew in with enough smoked salmon for two meals. Quinn stuffed and roasted the turkey, and Eliot did whatever was needed. They used Quinn’s kitchen to cook. She called his oven antiquated, whatever that meant.

“Paula,” he shouted, catching her by the door. “Where are you going?”

“It’s not right for Quinn to do all the work.”

“You’ve done enough holiday cooking over the years. I’ll go help.” He stuffed an envelope in his pocket and wandered across the hall.

“Hey,” he yelled, entering Quinn’s apartment and scowling about the unlocked door. Criminals didn’t take holidays.

“In the kitchen,” she bellowed back, her cheerful voice erasing his frown.

She stood at the counter, wearing an apron with printed yellow ducks. She lifted her head from chopping vegetables and smiled. He stepped closer and ran his lips against her neck.

“If you keep nibbling my ear, I’ll ruin dinner.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” he said with a grin. “Do you need any help?”

“I got everything under control.”

“Good, then you can open your Christmas present.”

“So, where’s your bow?” she teased. “Or do I unwrap this?” She tugged his belt buckle.

He let out a breathy groan and removed her hands from his pants. “I’m here to give a gift, not receive one.” He reached into his pocket and handed her an envelope. “This, my naughty elf, is for you.”

“But you already gave me a gift.”

This morning, he gave her a silver cuff bracelet. He had Life is better with Sprinkles engraved in the metal.

“Consider this a stocking stuffer.”

She opened the envelope and removed the single piece of paper—an itinerary of a flight to Chicago departing next week.

“New Year’s in Chicago? You hate flying.”

“I’m hoping a gorgeous woman will sit beside me and hold my hand.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“We’ll be gone for four days. We’ll visit your dad and spend the rest of the time with Lexie and Zak.”

“In Baxley?”

Great, she hates the idea. What was I thinking? Why would any sane woman enjoy Hicksville on New Year’s Eve, let alone any other time? “I’m sensing you’re not crazy about going.”

“There are only two tickets. What about Raine?”

“She’s headed to Paula and Malcolm’s. And don’t worry. They agreed to take Hudson too.”

“You’re okay with leaving her?”

“She’ll be in good hands. I figured we could have alone time. Zak offered his old house, so we’ll have privacy.”

She wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into his chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“I love the idea.” 

****

Quinn set the baklava between the chocolate yule log and the gingerbread trifle.

Omeir slid his plate to the desserts. “Everything looks so good.”

“Try one of each,” Quinn said. She had enjoyed numerous calorie-laden treats leading up to the holidays. Any leftovers would be going home with her guests.

Just as Omeir dumped cake onto his plate, a phone went off.

“Sorry, that’s mine,” Omeir said, digging into his jacket pocket.

“I told you to turn it off,” Safia chided him.

“It’s Pratt.” Omeir tapped the screen and accepted the call.

A surge of nausea ran through Quinn’s gut. No way was this a social call.

“I’m here with him,” Omeir said. “Yeah, I’ll tell him.” Omeir glanced at Safia. She scowled and shook her head. “No, Lieutenant,” Omeir said, “I don’t know where Detective El-Moudawi is.” He ended the call and muttered to Safia, “Turn your phone on.” His jovial mood was now gone.

“What’s happening?” Eliot asked.

Omeir wrapped several pieces of baklava in a napkin. “I’ll explain in the car.”

“Sorry, we have to go, Quinn. Dinner was great.” He playfully tugged Raine’s curls. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

“Go ahead. I’ll meet you downstairs,” Eliot said to Omeir.

A loud beep shot into the already tense air. “Hello, sir,” Safia said into her phone.

Omeir grabbed his coat and stormed past her.

Eliot leaned down and kissed his sister’s head. Quinn forced a smile and rose from the table. “I’ll be right back,” she said, addressing her remaining guests. She accompanied Eliot down their apartment building’s stairs.

“Sorry for bailing,” Eliot whispered.

She straightened his collar and kissed him. “Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her.

“Call as soon as you can.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I will,” he promised and barreled out the door.

“Where’s Paula?” Quinn asked, returning to Eliot’s apartment.

“Across the hall, tidying up,” Malcolm replied.

“I’ll go help her.”

Stepping into her kitchen, Quinn cleared her throat. “Thanks, Paula, but the dishes could have waited.”

“It’s the least I could do for the wonderful meal you made.”

Paula grabbed a sponge and began scrubbing the already clean oven. Quinn kept quiet. As far as she was concerned, Paula could retile her kitchen floor if it would keep her from clenching her teeth. The holidays were hard on Paula, and Eliot running off didn’t help matters.

An hour later, the kitchen was spotless. “Let’s head back to Eliot’s,” Quinn said when Paula eyed the dust in the air vents. They locked up her apartment and went across the hall. The bicycle her father had given Raine was now assembled and leaning against the entranceway. She smiled at Malcolm, whom she assumed did the work. Her father might be an advertising guru, but he struggled to assemble a stool.

“Solid as a rock,” Malcolm said, tapping the bike and assuring Quinn it was safe for Raine.

“I don’t know who is more excited about this. Raine for learning to ride, or Eliot for teaching her. Did you have any problem getting her to bed?”

“Nope, she went on her own,” Malcolm replied.

“Did she seem worried about Eliot?” she asked.

“No,” her father said. “She was exhausted from all the excitement.”

Quinn excused herself and checked on Raine. The child’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. She envied her peaceful slumber. Though beat, Quinn was too on edge to sleep. She returned to the living room and found Paula and Malcolm gathering their coats.

“You’ll call me as soon as you hear from Eliot,” Paula demanded. “I don’t care what time it is.”

“Of course.” She hugged the couple.

“You okay, honey?” her dad asked once the Wilsons had left.

“Yes,” she lied. “I know it’s early by Los Angeles time, but why don’t you go next door and relax? I’m headed to bed soon.”

“If you need anything, come get me.”

“I will.” She walked him to the door. “How does breakfast at eight sound?”

“Perfect.” He kissed her cheek and left.

Quinn went to Eliot’s bedroom and removed her clothes. She donned Eliot’s old T-shirt. The cotton fibers were infused with his drugstore deodorant. Unable to sleep, she rearranged his sock drawer. Aware there was no right way to fold socks, she paired them in various ways—none to her satisfaction. She tackled the next drawer, doing the same. After folding everything in sight, she sorted his closet from light to dark-colored clothing.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and stiffened. It was 3:22, and Safia was calling.

“What happened?” she shouted. “Please, Safia, tell me he’s okay.”

“Relax, Sprinkles. I’m fine. We’re in the office, wrapping up the paperwork.”

“Why aren’t you calling from your phone?” she snapped at Eliot, relieved yet irritated by his voice.

“I left it in the vehicle. Didn’t you tell me to call as soon as possible?”

Tears flowed down her cheeks, and a sob escaped her mouth.

“Are you crying?”

“When Safia’s number came up, I thought something horrible—”

“Shit. I’m so sorry, Sprinkles.”

A thump sounded in the background. Either he pounded his hands against his desk or bashed his big head.

She wiped her face with the T-shirt’s hem. “El?”

“Yeah?”

“If I’m asleep when you get in, wake me.”

“You sure? I might be a while.”

“I didn’t properly thank you for my Christmas presents.”

“I love how you show gratitude. I’ll be home as soon as possible.”

She hated her overreaction. Being nervous wasn’t fair to Eliot. If she broke down every time he went to work, she’d worsen the situation for them both. Dealing with criminals and terrorists was difficult enough. He didn’t need the added stress of a jittery girlfriend. She’d do better, even if it meant hiding her fears.