Hers for the Holidays

Ely and Kyle, she mentally recited.

Was she still dreaming? Ely and Kyle seemed so surreal.

But it was real.

Ely held her shotgun and a second one. Handing both to Kyle, he bent down, picking her up from the floor like she weighed nothing.

“Lydia, it’s okay,” he said gently and pulled her in close.

A weak moment, she would tell herself later. Right now, Ely was the most solid thing she’d felt in days. Weeks. She allowed herself to curl into the safety and support he offered, just for a minute. God, he felt good.

Everyone was quiet until she looked down and saw the blood soaking into the material of his sweat jacket.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered.

Ely looked down, frowning, and then cursed, taking her arm in his hand.

“No, that would be you,” he said.

She looked down and saw he was right. Her hand was bleeding where she had cut it on something on the floor. She took in the sight of the wrecked kitchen, and her knees wavered a little.

“Sit,” Ely commanded, leading her to a chair.

Ely was quiet as he examined her hand.

“It’s not bad, just bleeding a lot. You have a first-aid kit around here anywhere?”

Kyle, still watching them closely, put the guns down and went to her kitchen cupboard, pulling out a small, white box.

Lydia shook her head. She wouldn’t have known that was there. Kyle knew her house better than she did. Well, he had been here all this time, and she had not been.

“I guess we had better call the sheriff, after all,” Ely said.

“I followed whoever it was out to the tree line before I came in, but he was gone,” Kyle muttered agreement.

“No, don’t call anyone,” Lydia interrupted.

Ely looked at her in surprise. “Someone broke into your house, wrecked the place. You need to report it.”

She shook her head. They wouldn’t do anything anyway, as she already knew.

“It would be a waste of time. I didn’t see who did it, and the authorities are probably busy with the storm. It’s probably just someone who thought the house was empty, or some kids out looking for excitement or something. They took off the minute I let them know I was here, so they didn’t mean me any harm,” she said, maybe a little desperately. Who was she trying to convince?

“Or whoever it was could be the one who’s been giving you trouble since you got here, and—”

Lydia cut Kyle off with a sharp look.

“Lydia—”

“Why are you here?” she whispered, interrupting him.

She knew everything was a wreck around her, and she couldn’t deal with that. Not just yet. So she focused on him.

“Tessa sent me. She wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Lydia’s eyes closed, and she shook her head.

“When you came up the side of the house, I thought you were—”

“I know. I’m sorry. My truck is stuck back on the road, and Kyle caught me out front of the house. He thought I might be trouble. We were just sorting it out when we heard the gun go off. And who’s been giving you trouble?”

“Not sure, but they—”

“Kyle, we’re fine,” Lydia interrupted him again with a direct look. “Why don’t you head back down to the bunkhouse, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ely’s gaze narrowed on her, but he didn’t say a word.

Lydia’s pretty mouth flattened into a line of displeasure as she looked at Kyle.

“So I did see you earlier,” she said. “In town.”

He nodded.

“You do know each other? From back east?” Kyle asked, still not moving.

“That’s right.” Exhausted, her hand throbbing, Lydia felt a chill travel over her skin. She was clad only in the robe she had put on after undressing, having become distracted by her thoughts and cleaning out the closet. Pulling the fabric more tightly around herself, she was aware of being far too exposed, especially with Ely pressing against her leg as he bandaged her hand. She shivered.

“We’re...friends, yes. It’s okay, Kyle, really. Goodnight.”

Kyle nodded, grabbed his rifle and headed back out the door. Lydia shook her head as Ely packed up the small first-aid kit and returned it to the cabinet. She took the moment to test her legs and stood up, feeling steadier, as she glanced around.

“I can’t believe someone would do this,” she said, more to herself than to him. Bowls and dishes that had been on the counter were broken all over the floor—it was a miracle that she hadn’t cut herself when she had went running through the kitchen after her intruder.

“What’s been going on, Lydia? You just pick up and leave Philly, and now you’re being harassed, twice in one night?”

Something about his making demands quickly set her spine on edge. She turned, nailing him with a glare.

“I think you’re the one who has some explaining to do. How did you know where I lived, and how come you were here so late at night? Have you been following me?”

“I only got here yesterday, but it was enough time to check the town records, yes, and find out where you lived.”

“I don’t live here.”

“You did,” he challenged. “Why the big secret?”

She swallowed, overly aware of him as they stood facing each other, the slight swath of cotton that she wore hardly enough to make her feel adequately covered. He seemed to notice as well, his eyes taking her in briefly before returning to her face. He didn’t say anything, but she saw the flicker of memory, of desire. Her body responded as well, her chill wearing off as her blood heated a little. She ignored it.

“I have to get dressed and take care of this mess.”