Lucas had stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of what was happening, tempted to call Riley’s bluff then and there, tell him if that was how he really felt, he might as well grab his gear and hit the road, but Riley suddenly gave a funny laugh, shrugged, and said like his normal, sane self, “I’ve got faith in you, chief.”
That seemed to be the end of it.
Like a flicker on a computer monitor. An ominous flash of blue screen and then everything back to usual.
The rest of the evening was confusingly normal, and when Lucas tentatively reached for Riley that night, Riley had turned to him without hesitation, just as warm and willing as ever.
Lucas had been only too glad to let it go, too relieved to pretend nothing had happened.
The next week had been completely, reassuringly normal. So much so that Lucas, who, as previously noted, had a lot on his plateparticularlyat that time of year, had sort of forgotten—
Well, no. He hadn’t forgotten.
But he’d hoped Riley had.
He’d truly hoped the whole Twelve Days of Christmas Threat was a momentary aberration brought on by a grueling work schedule and one too many late-night bourbons.
He did feel bad that he hadn’t made plans in advance to do something special for Riley this year. This year in particular. He wasn’t good at that kind of thing, though, which Riley knew.
Still.
Every time he remembered the previous March, he experienced a kind of emotional shiver, as though he could feelhis heart icing over. He could have—shouldhave—given the holidays some thought, given that he knew Riley, despite being a bona fide badass, could sometimes be, well, sentimental.
Anyway, when Riley didn’t bring up the topic of Christmas again, Lucas had breathed a sigh of relief and returned his attention to more serious matters.
But last night—a week to the day—over a late dinner at the Timberline Grill, Riley had finished his second old fashioned, set the glass down, and smiled at Lucas.
It was a troubling smile. Sort of wry, sort of…regretful? Not at all like his normal cocky grin or that funny little quirk of his lips when he privately thought something was humorous, but was too professional to laugh.
“Six days till Christmas,” he’d said.
Lucas nodded absently, but then the words sank in and his heart felt like it lost its footing and plunged down an icy embankment.
He’d done his best to cover, drawling, “That’s right. Have you finished writing your letter to Santa Claus?”
Instead of smiling or joking back, Riley gave the ice in his glass a little shake, commented briefly, “Santa knows,” and tossed off the last of his cocktail.
Lucas couldn’t help retorting, “Santa’s not a mind reader.”
Riley still wasn’t meeting his eyes as he answered, “Santa doesn’t need to be a mind reader.”
Which sounded pretty uncompromising.
Lucas chewed that over for a moment, before asking in an equally curt tone, “Did you want another drink?”
“Thanks, no.” Riley met his eyes then. “I’m heading into the office early tomorrow.”
Lucas said nothing, signaling to the waiter, and pretending to devote his full attention to the bill. But once again, he was unpleasantly startled. Tomorrow was Saturday,so technically the Resident Agency was closed. The agent on duty was Riley—Riley was almost always the designated agent on call because Lucas typically monitored—well, no,monitoredsounded like he was micromanaging—but he did like to keep an eye on things over the weekends, just to offer additional support if required. So, really, it was logical that Riley take on that role because he’d be performing those duties anyway.
Why ruin another agent’s weekend?
Besides, it wasn’t like anyone’s weekend was ruined. Usually. Because, most of the time, nothing came in over the weekend that couldn’t wait till Monday.
There was no reason for Riley to go into the office, let alone charge in there early. Here he was bitching about Lucas not prioritizing their relationship, and then he turned right around and blew off one of their Saturday mornings.
What sense did that make?
But Lucas refrained from comment.
