Although at the moment, it was too quiet.
I missed my boyfriend.
Not that the word fit Aiden Devlin, considering he was all man. But he was also an ATF agent with expertise in undercover work, and I hadn’t seen him since Halloween. We’d been dating since June, more seriously since August, and he’d really only been in town for two weeks in October before having to leave again.
He called when he could, but sometimes I didn’t hear from him for a couple of weeks. I had his Christmas present, a new wallet, in my purse. Was that a dumb gift? I’d bought it on impulse the other day and was now rethinking the purchase. Although, the leather was smooth and handcrafted.
I opened my door and dropped my bag inside, grasping the shovel and getting to work on the porch, walkway, and then the driveway. The manual labor perked up my heart rate and let my mind wander to my current cases.
The Santa murder was the most interesting, although I didn’t have a good feeling about poor Bernie. While I believed he didn’t kill Lawrence, the more I talked to him, the more the situation looked problematic.
Hopefully Detective Pierce would find the real killer fast. As an investigator, Pierce was one of the best, although he was grumpier than a raccoon shooed away from a nice can of garbage. He’d asked me out once, but work had interfered, and then Aiden had jumped right into my life, and that was that. Although I wouldn’t mind fixing Pierce up with somebody nice just to see the guy smile once in a while.
I finished and set the shovel against the side of the door when my phone buzzed from my pocket. “Albertini.”
“Hi,Aingeal,” Aiden said, his barely there Irish brogue sounding unusually thick. “You staying safe?”
Merely hearing his voice heated my abdomen and made me feel all fuzzy. I sank to the porch swing, letting the cold wood cool my butt and watching the reflection of the Christmas lights wander across the snow. It was a legitimate question, based on some of my earlier cases. “Yeah. Are you?” An even more legit question, considering he was undercover with yet another drug running club. I started to gently swing in the cold night.
“Yep.” Movement sounded behind him and then gunfire, which was close but not too close. It was sad I could gauge the distance of gunfire through the phone, but there you go. “I’m fine and trying to close this situation fast so we can spend the holidays together.”
There’s nothing I’d like better.
“It’s our first Christmas. Any idea what you’d like?” His voice deepened.
I liked that the word ‘first’ promised more to come—if neither of us got shot and killed. “Just you home safely,” I said honestly. The man hadn’t even had enough time to move into the cabin he’d bought around the lake, and while I said I’d take care of it for him, he wanted to be there. Whatever. It wasn’t like I’d decorate the place with antique dolls and pink curtains.
Well, probably.
Okay. He had a point.
I cleared my throat. “Um, do you have a wallet?”
“Yep. I have my grandpa’s and I love it. Why?”
“No reason.” Shoot. Well, maybe I could give the wallet to Oliver Duck at our office. Yeah. Good plan.
Headlights shone down my driveway, and I watched a battered SUV approach—one I didn’t recognize.
“Anything interesting happening there?” Aiden asked, sounding like he’d settled back and relaxed. Was he in bed? I didn’t know where he was, but it was possible he was on the East Coast, which would put him three hours ahead of me in Idaho.
“Just the usual,” I said, not mentioning Santa. Not yet.
The SUV stopped, and a twenty-something man with long blond hair jumped out, grabbing a vase of roses. He hustled toward me along the freshly shoveled walk and up the steps, handing them over. Light snow had already dropped on them, making them look magical. “Tip’s already covered.” He winked and jogged back to his car.
I put my phone on speaker and set it on the arm of the porch swing, holding the heavy vase and tingling throughout my body. The roses were beautiful. “You shouldn’t have,” I murmured. It was just like Aiden to arrange for a delivery when he knew we could be on the phone. My silly heart went all pitter-patter.
“Shouldn’t have what?” he asked, sounding sleepy and relaxed.
“Sent me roses. They’re beautiful.” I blew snow off the top of one.
Quiet came across the line for a minute. “You like tulips—not roses. I didn’t send them.” He didn’t sound as relaxed all of a sudden.
I stiffened. He was right—roses weren’t my thing, but these were beautiful. “You didn’t?”
“No.”
Oh. Well, this was awkward. I pushed the flowers around, looking for a card, but there wasn’t one. I bit my lip. “No card.”
