Page 4 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about my stash?”

“Dad said you always keep one. He told me to watch out for where you were hiding it so we could raid it when you weren’t home.”

“And did you report back, super spy?” Sam asked, quirking a brow.

Jace grinned. “I’ll keep the location a secret, but only for the big bag of gummy bears.”

Sam’s mouth twitched, suppressing a smile at the little extortionist’s cunning. “Deal.”

Chapter Two

The town of Mistletoe was quiet at six in the morning, like a picturesque painting of a sweet, small mountain town. The sky was still dark, but Officer Wren Little’s high beams caught the flash of buildings and lampposts as she drove down Main Street, making a left onto Spruce. She rolled down her window, ignoring the sting of cold air on her skin as she pressed in the code to get into the employee parking lot of the police station. The gate sprang to life with a loud screech as it pulled across the gravel, allowing Wren to pass through. She stopped just inside, making sure it closed without anyone sneaking through. No one had tried since she arrived six weeks ago, but that didn’t mean someone wouldn’t. If spending the last sixteen years in major cities had taught her anything, it was to always be on her guard. One wrong move and—

Four rapid knocks on her window before she’d even put the cruiser in park sent her nearly jumping through the roof. Her dog, Duke, let out a low growl from the back seat, his chin resting on her left shoulder, closest to the intruder. She turned to glare out the window at the dark figure, rolling down the window again.

“B, what are you doing out here?” she grumbled.

Officer Barret Hughes ducked down, grinning at her through the open window. The twentysomething officer was friendly and engaging most days, but scaring her to death was a good way to get tased.

“Sorry, but I saw you pulling in and wanted to tell you I got coffee and donuts.” Barret reached in and rubbed Duke’s head. “I even got one for you, boy.”

Duke’s tail thumped happily against the car’s interior, and Wren rolled her eyes. The dog was a spoiled brat, but he’d been her faithful companion the last five years. She couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

“Thank you, I appreciate the update, but I could have gotten that information inside.”

“True, true.” Barret fell back, allowing her to open the door and step out. “Sorry, I know I can be a bit much sometimes.”

Wren smiled reassuringly at the younger man as she opened the back door to release Duke. The German shepherd mix hopped out of the SUV, his long tan and black fur creating tufts along his jaw and ears, which were flopped over instead of straight up. When she’d adopted Duke from a program out of Sacramento that trained shelter dogs, the other members of the Force had dubbed him Temu because he was smaller and fluffier than the Belgian Malinois the department liked to purchase. Her former chief had liked the publicity, though, and when Duke suddenly doubled in size around six months, her fellow officers stopped talking smack. Especially after putting on a training suit and getting taken down by the hundred-pound underdog.

Barret was a head taller than her and lanky like a track runner. It made him fast, but intimidating he was not. Especially when he squatted down and talked in a high-pitched baby voice to Duke. “Who’s a good dog? Huh?”

Duke sat at Wren’s side, his tail wagging frantically, but he didn’t move otherwise. He looked up at her in the parking lot lights with dark, pleading eyes, and she sighed. “Play.”

Duke bounded toward Barret, and the officer rubbed the canine all over, continuing to talk to him like he was an adorable toddler. When Duke was working, he was the best dog, but watching him relaxed and playful never failed to make her laugh.

“Alright, you two, that’s enough. I’m just a cranky mess before I’ve had my coffee. Time to work.”

Duke straightened up and returned to her side, panting with his tongue lolling out.

“Say no more,” Barret said, holding his crooked arm out to her. “Let’s go inside where I can get you caffeinated and tell you all about the happs last night.”

Wren chuckled and looped her arm with Barret’s, letting him lead her and Duke into the station. He punched in his code at the back door, holding it for them to pass through. The small station sported a front desk with no protective glass, which was so strange after working in Sacramento the last few years. There were security precautions everywhere at big-city stations, but in Mistletoe, the only secured doors were the front and side, and the gray door at the back of the room that led to the two holding cells. Desks lined either side of the room behind the door that separated the main reception area from the bullpen. The front lobby had two rows of blue chairs and a few side tables with magazines splayed across the tops. The walls had various posters about outreach programs and laws, including multiple that discouraged drunk driving, which was a massive problem in a town with nothing else to do during the long, cold months.

Compared to her time in larger cities, the most she’d had to deal with since being here were a few assault collars and a lot of drunk and disorderliness. Otherwise, Mistletoe was rather peaceful, and she was soaking it all in.

“Coffee and donuts are on the counter,” Barret said, releasing her arm. “Case files are on my desk. Had one domestic out at the Reeds’.”

“Uh-oh. What did old Lloyd do to poor Margaret?” Wren asked, her tone laced with sarcasm. She removed her coffee cup from the cardboard carrier, thinking about how quick the older woman was to throw something at her poor husband over the smallest slight.

Barret picked up the donut obviously made for Duke with dog bone sprinkles and waved it at her. “Can I?”

Wren nodded, addressing Duke, who sat patiently, but his eyes were locked on the pastry. “Eat.”

Barret gave Duke the donut, which disappeared in two bites, and wiped his hands on a napkin before answering her question. “This time Lloyd had the nerve to complain that Margaret rearranged the furniture to try something new and he didn’t like it. In return, she called him a host of names she didn’t mean and chucked a lamp at his head. Luckily, it was still plugged in and didn’t get very far. She eventually apologized to both her husband and myself, after telling me I needed to head back to the playground with the rest of the kiddies.”

“Well, isn’t that nice.” The sarcasm hung heavy and thick like fog. “I’m actually Team Margaret on this one. If anyone tried telling me how I could decorate my house, I’d do more than throw a lamp.”

Barret took a drink of his coffee, head cocked slightly to the side. “If two people live together and are partners, shouldn’t they both get a say?”