“It sounds like a perfect day,” Hazel adds. The late-morning sun catches her hair, picking up bits of red and bronze. “Decorating for Christmas, cookies, and making love by the tree. It’s like one of those movies Lark likes to watch.” She stops. Laughs. “Well. Maybe not quite. The ones she watches don’t have anything more risque than kissing.”
“If that’s all you want to do, we can stop at kissing,” I offer, knowing full well what her answer will be.
“Pssh.” Hazel swats my arm. Then she stretches up on her toes to kiss me. “Kissing is great, but I want all of it. I want to see my sexy boyfriend all naked by the tree, the twinkly lights casting a glow on your muscles…”
I burst out laughing. “The lights casting a glow on my muscles?”
Her cheeks turn a deeper pink. “I may have been reading some of those Christmas romance novels Lark gave me. They have lovely descriptions in them, you know.”
“Like Christmas lights glowing on men’s muscles?” I give Hazel a mock-insulted look. “I’m not sure how I feel about you fantasizing about other men’s muscles.”
“I don’t fantasize about them,” she retorts. “I imagine you in the scene. Because you’re way better than any of the heroes in the books.”
Oh.
“Haze.” Mindful of the bags of breakable ornaments on each arm, I hug her carefully. “I love you.”
She loops her arms around my neck and kisses me. “I love you, too.”
As I meet her gaze, my heart stops. Rolls over. Squeezes.
I never imagined love could feel like this.
I never imagined it could be so incredible.
With one more quick kiss, Hazel steps out of my hug and heads to the back of the truck. “I’ll grab the deer,” she says, “if you want to stick the bags inside. Then I can help you get the tree out.”
“Hazel.” My tone is gently scolding. “You’re not carrying the tree. It’s too heavy. I’ll take care of it.”
“Alec. I carry trays full of beer. Plus dishwasher racks and buckets of ice. I think I can handle half a tree.”
“Maybe so.” I start heading towards the front porch, but look back over my shoulder to add, “But just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Iliketaking care of things for you.”
Hazel smiles. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“Right.” Once I reach the porch, I unlock the front door and set the bags just inside it. As I’m turning around to head back outside, my phone chimes with a security alert. It’s the signal I always get when someone turns onto the driveway, which doesn’t happen often considering the relative isolation of my property. I might get a handful of visits each week; most of them from the UPS delivery guy or the mailman with a package.
Still, I like to check. So I pull my phone from my pocket to check the video feed. To my surprise, it’s not a delivery. Or one of my friends stopping by for a spontaneous visit. It’s a car I don’t recognize.
Alarm shoots through me, bringing along a surge of adrenaline.
My stomach jumps.
There’s no reason to assume a problem, I tell myself as I watch the blue sedan inch its way up the driveway. Someone might be lost. Or the mail truck could have broken down and Dorothy, the mail carrier, could be using her own vehicle.
But.
There’s something in my gut that tells me differently. That tells me something is wrong.
“Hazel.” My voice sharpens.
Hazel sets down the deer she’s carrying and turns to me with concern in her eyes. “Alec? What’s wrong?”
“Come here,” I say. There’s a rough edge to my tone. Well aware that this could be nothing, I add gently, “Please. Can you come over here?”
She frowns, but starts walking towards me. “What’s going on?”
“Just come here,” I repeat. “Faster. Okay?”
