High-Calibre Christmas

“You, too, Jace.” She studied him for a moment, her smile rueful.

As he watched her walk away, he felt all those old feelings rush at him like fighter planes. He swore under his breath, wishing she’d told him what a bastard he was instead of offering to help him through the next few days.

Just the sight of her still stirred a desire in him like no woman ever had.

As he turned toward his rental SUV, he told himself as he had twelve years ago that he would have hurt her worse if he’d married her and stayed in Whitehorse. But even as he told himself that, he couldn’t get one thought out of his mind. What if he hadn’t left? What if he’d stayed and married her? Hell, they could have a couple of kids by now.

That struck him like an arrow to the heart. He stopped as he reached the SUV and was reaching for his keys, when he felt it again. That insane sensation that someone was watching him.

He realized with a sobering shock that normally he was more aware of his surroundings. It was a survival skill in his business. But he’d been so shaken up over everything since getting his mother’s letter and the news of her death and his uncle’s that he’d gotten sloppy.

Now, though, he took in the street. On this side was a row of businesses, a half-dozen pickups parked diagonally in front of them. An elderly woman came out of the hardware store. A man went into the bank at the end of the block. A car came up the street.

He thought for a moment that he’d imagined the feeling of being watched. He’d already realized that he couldn’t trust his instincts earlier with that moment of panic before he’d boarded the plane.

But his instincts told him that he wasn’t so out of it that he’d imagined this.

His gaze fell on a silver SUV like the one he’d rented. It was parked across the street by the park. Someone was sitting behind the wheel, but with the sun glinting off the window …

A pickup went by, casting a long shadow over the SUV across the street. That’s when he saw her. She wore large sunglasses and a hat. She quickly looked away, but he’d recognized her. As he started to cross the street, she hurriedly started the engine and took off, her face turned away. But there was no doubt.

The woman driving the SUV was the woman he’d met at the airport. Ava Carris. What was she doing in Whitehorse? Or maybe more to the point, why was she sitting on the main drag watching him?

Chapter Three

Kayley Mitchell climbed into her pickup, telling herself she was fine. But after several attempts to put her key in the ignition, she gave up and quit pretending, letting the tears come. Jace.

She’d known seeing him again would be hard. She’d thought she was ready to face him. She’d been wrong. Nothing had prepared her for this, even though she’d known he would come home for his mother’s funeral—if he could.

But then Jace had been running from his feelings for years. Could she really be sure what he would do? Especially now after hearing about not only his mother’s death, but also his uncle’s suicide and all that that entailed.

The story was all over town. Her friend and local reporter Andi Jackson had finally done an article about the murders, the baby switch and how Jace Dennison was actually the son of Virginia Winchester. It was all anyone had been talking about for the past month.

Kayley could just imagine how hard all of this was on Jace. She knew seeing her didn’t make things easier for him. Did he think she didn’t know that he seldom came home even to see his mother and uncle, and, when he did, he avoided town? Avoided even the chance he might run into her if she was home visiting?

She had thought for sure that he would come home when he heard about his mother’s illness. But he hadn’t, so she had begun to doubt he would show up for her funeral—until she came out of the store, and there he was.

It had taken her breath away. She was still trembling inside. One look at him and she saw that he’d heard about his uncle. Her heart had gone out to him, even as badly as he’d hurt her. He’d lost his mother and uncle. As far as she knew, he had no other family.

Kayley brushed angrily at her tears. She felt just as she had in high school, her heart pounding, pulse racing, mouth dry as cotton. Hadn’t she cried enough tears for Jace Dennison? He’d broken her heart and she’d never gotten over it. It had taken everything in her not to let him see the effect he had on her.

Not that she ever wanted him to know how much he’d hurt her. Twelve years had dulled the pain but done nothing to temper the desire she still felt for him. She’d moved on, and yet just seeing him had brought it all back, the memory of the two of them together.

She looked around now, afraid she’d been seen crying over him, or, worse, that Jace had witnessed it. Everyone in town would be talking about the two of them as it was. She didn’t need them gossiping about her breakdown on the main drag.

But as she glanced around, she didn’t see Jace. Still, she felt as if someone was watching her.

AVA HAD PANICKED WHEN she’d seen Jace coming across the street toward her car. That had her less upset than the fact that he’d somehow known she was sitting across the street watching him. He’d sensed her.

She’d seen the way he’d looked up, suddenly aware of her. That alone told her she’d been right to follow him to Whitehorse. She’d felt a connection the first time she’d seen him at the Denver airport. It wasn’t just that he looked so much like her deceased husband, John. Something else was going on. She could feel it.

Ava had seen him talking to that woman. That was why she’d driven around the block after her close encounter with Jace. She’d been curious about the woman, picking up something in the way they’d stood as they talked to each other. There was a history there. She could feel it.

She’d gotten around the block in time to see the woman climb into a pickup. Parking, she’d watched her, seen her start to leave, then drop her head to her steering wheel. Even from a few vehicles away, Ava could see that the woman was crying.

Just as she’d thought. There had been something between this woman and Jace.

Ava tried not to hate her. But she knew the type. Blond, blue-eyed, girl next door. A cute little cowgirl. What was the story between the two of them? she wondered as she watched her finally start her vehicle and pull out.

Ava pulled out behind her, following her through town, then north into the country. It was one of those beautiful blue-skied days, the sun coming warm through her windows. She knew she shouldn’t even be in Whitehorse, let alone following this woman, and yet it felt right.

Something had brought her here, something more than Jace Dennison.

Ahead, the cowgirl slowed, then turned down a narrow road. Ava could see a farmhouse set back against a hillside. Several large old cottonwoods framed the picturesque place.

How handy, Ava thought as she realized that this woman lived just down the road from Jace Dennison—according to the address on the letter from his mother.

Ava drove on past, turned around up the road and headed back to town. She slowed just enough at the mailbox on the highway in front of the cowgirl’s house to read the name. K. Mitchell.

She chose a motel on the far edge of town. In the room, she pulled out a phone book. There was only one Mitchell listed. Kayley Mitchell.

Ava was more convinced that the woman wasn’t married. Didn’t the woman know that most women living alone didn’t put their full names in the phone book?

Apparently Kayley thought she was safe living out there all by herself.

While she had the phone book open, she looked up Dennison. She found two numbers, one for an Audie Dennison and another for Marie, the same name as the one on Jace’s letter from his mother. She memorized the phone number for his mother before closing the book.

JACE WAS MORE DETERMINED than ever to get out of town as quickly as possible. After he’d watched Ava Carris drive away, he’d turned back and saw the Milk River Examiner office.

He’d heard that the editor-owner of the paper had written an obit for both Marie and Audie. He was just waiting for Jace’s approval before running it. Marie had gone to school with the man, and Jace knew he was just trying to make things easier for him.

As he stepped inside, Jace spotted a young woman on the phone. She had a Southern accent, and when she turned toward the door, she seemed surprised and a little wary.

“Is Mark Sanders around?” Jace asked as the woman hung up.

“He’s out on calls,” she said, definitely looking nervous. “I’m the reporter, Andi Jackson. The newspaper’s only reporter.”

Jace blinked. “Jackson. Are you …”

“Cade’s wife.”

Cade Jackson, his one-time best friend. “It’s nice to meet you, I think. I’m—”

“Jace Dennison.” She swallowed. “I was the one who wrote the stories about you.”

He’d figured Mark would have tried to keep it out of the newspaper. But apparently Cade’s wife had written about it anyway.

“Everyone in town was talking about it,” she said.