“Then my work here is done,” Caitlin joked and immediately regretted it. Done meant free to return to Scotland. To leave Holt. The thought hollowed her insides.
Holt used his free hand to cup her cheek. “I’m a work in progress, don’t you think? I need you. I don’t want you to go.” He leaned in slowly, his gaze never leaving her eyes, until his breath warmed her face, and his lips caressed hers.
Caitlin let her eyes drift closed and simply enjoyed Holt’s kiss. Hiding quick pecks from Mrs. Smith had been fun, but this was something else entirely. She could feel the intensity of Holt’s focus on her in the way his lips moved over hers, then trailed across her cheek. He needed her. What a change from the arrogant, distant man she’d first met to the one now gently nibbling her earlobe. Caitlin let her head fall back on a sigh, giving him access to her skin, and to her racing pulse. He pulled her against his chest as he kissed his way down her throat. She needed him, too. More than he kenned.
* * *
Caitlin welcomed Christmas Eve’s calm and cold. Last week’s storms had mirrored the conflict between her and Holt. But they’d made peace in time for and in the spirit of the holiday.
Holt drove them into the village in silence. Caitlin knew he had to be nervous, but so was she. They’d heard from the lab Holt had chosen and planned to meet Doc Coates at the village square Christmas celebration to open and share the report Holt received. The vet had mentioned that he would be there, along with most of the rest of the village.
On the outskirts, Holt broke his silence and told her, “I had a thought.”
“I hope you didn’t strain anything.”
He cut her a side-eyed glance. “Again, not funny. Are there any funny people in Scotland? I’d like to meet one.”
“Sorry, you’re out of luck. You’re stuck with me. So, what thought?”
“About what to do if this report doesn’t confirm a match.”
Caitlin’s chest tightened with sympathy for what he must be going through. “I might have had the same thought,” she told him. “You first.”
Holt slowed, then stopped to let some people cross the street. “Mrs. Smith’s son is also dead. He lived in the same house. He and my mother were friends. Sometimes proximity and teenage hormones…”
“We’re in sync. But let’s see what the report you received says. If we’re wrong, we can approach Mrs. Smith about testing her.”
Holt accelerated smoothly once the street cleared. “She might like having me as a grandson.”
“Of course she would. You’re adorable. And that would give her an excuse to shop for toys.”
“Sonot funny.” But he grinned at her.
Relieved that her attempt at humor had eased his worries, she settled back to enjoy the town lights and the glimpses of Christmas trees in cottage front windows.
They parked a few blocks away from the square and walked back, drawn by even more lights, colorful and white, the holiday music, and the sound of laughter. Scents both savory and sweet filled their nostrils as soon as they reached it.
“It’s lovely,” Caitlin remarked as they circled the huge central fir tree, fully decked out in lights, garlands, and ornaments— many handmade by local school children. “Though not as special as the trees we decorated at the house,” she told him, the memory of that evening still fresh and happy in her mind. The smile Holt gave her told her he felt the same way.
Singing drew them to one side of the square, where carolers in Elizabethan garb entertained the crowd. They listened for a while, then wandered on, admiring the holiday displays set up by local businesses in their front windows. Holt bought them hot chocolate to keep them warm. It didn’t compare to Mrs. Smith’s, but it took the edge off the chill in Caitlin’s fingers.
Finally, they found an empty bench in a quiet corner of the square and sat down. They hadn’t seen Doc Coates yet, but Caitlin was confident he would show up soon.
“Caitlin,” Holt said, startling her out of her thoughts. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” She was genuinely puzzled. He hadn’t done anything worthy of begging her forgiveness— at least not today.
“For— everything. For not believing you. Not trusting you. I should have seen that everything you’ve said and done since I met you was meant to help me.”
“It took you long enough,” Caitlin muttered, injecting as much irony in her tone as she could manage and hoping he’d take it as a jest. She understood his pensive mood and wanted to cheer him. It was Christmas, after all.
Instead, he ignored her response. “You’ve been nothing but truthful with me, and you’ve stood your ground when I…when I gave you a bunch of crap you didn’t deserve. No matter what happens with the paternity test, I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve done. I think you’re an amazing woman.”
She set aside her drink. It had gone cold. But the sudden chill in her chest was colder. What was Holt leading up to? It almost sounded like he was getting ready to say goodbye. The bulk of her work was done, and the rest she could finish at home. He knew that. Was he circling around to sending her away, as he had planned to before the storms gave them time to remember they liked each other? A lot? “Aye. I know that,” she replied, still going for humor, though it now felt out of place after his heartfelt words.
“Humble, too,” he added on a sudden grin.
Caitlin smirked back, relieved. She hadn’t misjudged what he needed from her, and his grin reassured her that she hadn’t jumped to the wrong conclusion. “What are you trying to tell me, Holt?”
