Page 16 of This Christmas

The little girl pouted and crossed her arms dramatically, and he laughed softly as Ally scooped her daughter up. “Say goodnight to Joe, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Joe,” Charlotte said happily. “If you can make it, we’re going to have a picnic at…” She looked at her mother who rolled her eyes but answered.

“Noon.”

“At noon. Just down the stairs. I’ll make you a special sandwich. Just in case.”

He smiled and said, “Goodnight, Charlotte.”

He followed them to the door, where Charlotte waved and begged him once more to come to the picnic so he could show her the pictures he’d taken. Then she rushed into the living room to watch cartoons.

Ally lingered in the doorway for a second as he stepped outside, her hand resting on the frame. “Thank you for being honest tonight,” she said.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Thank you for dinner.”

The door closed behind him, leaving him standing in the salty night air.

Back at his hotel, he typed up his report, feeling very dirty. Every line came out mechanical at first, detached, professional. He noted her daily routine, her brother’s absence, and what he’d found out about her staying in the place all by themselves. All the details Ted wanted.

But when he got to the section about dinner, about Ally’s questions and the way she’d looked at him, clear-eyed and unafraid, his fingers froze over the keyboard.

He stared at the half-finished paragraph for a long time before finally saving the file and closing his laptop without sending it.

The next morning, his phone buzzed before sunrise.

“Good morning,” he answered cautiously after seeing Ted’s number on the screen.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” the man snapped on the other end. “You think I wouldn’t find out that you had dinner with her?”

Joe sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You hired me to check on her. That’s what I did.”

“I hired you to watch, not to eat at her damn table!” Ted’s voice rose, ugly and sharp. “She’s mine, Dalton. You hear me? She may think she’s free, but she’s not. You stay the hell away from my wife unless I tell you otherwise.”

Joe’s jaw clenched. “You’re divorced. You hired me to get close to her, to find anything that would stick in court. That’s what I’m doing.”

There was a pause, a dangerous, heavy one. Then Ted’s voice dropped to a hiss. “Careful who you piss off, Dalton. You forget what kind of man I am?”

“No,” Joe said quietly. “That’s exactly the problem.”

He hung up before Ted could respond, the sound of silence buzzing like static in his ear.

After a shower to clear his head, he sat at his computer and deleted the report he’d typed up the night before. Instead, he wrote a letter quitting the job. He added the last invoice, which had not been paid yet, and cc’d his lawyer for shits and giggles.

After hitting send, he pulled on his running shoes and went for a jog to clear his head. As he headed toward the beach, he realized that, for the first time since taking the job, he knew exactly what he needed to do next.

By the time he’d run the strip of beach that stretched the length of the town twice, he was covered in sweat and snow was falling from the sky.

He went back to his room to take a hot shower, and when he was done, he noticed that the snow had increased.

It looked like Charlotte’s picnic lunch was going to have to be postponed. His heart sank, knowing the little girl was going to be upset.

His phone rang, and when he saw Ted’s number on the screen again, he debated answering it. He stared at the phone, his muscles still buzzing along that thin edge between exhaustion and adrenaline. He thought about letting it go to voicemail. Hell, he should have. But old habits die hard. He swiped the screen and brought it to his ear.

“Hello?” he said flatly.

Ted’s voice came through clipped, icy. “You think you can just walk away? You don’t quit on me, Dalton. You finish what you’re paid to do.”

Joe exhaled through his nose, staring out the window at the flurries falling across the parking lot.