Page 73 of Nothing More

“Yes!”

“Um, I don’t want to step on any toes,” Greg said, “least of all Ian’s – whoever that is” – his expression, and the pause that followed his words, invited Raven to explain, which she didn’t – “but if you need help, I’d be happy to take you both tree shopping.” He did the ducked-chin, shy-smile bit that meant he was oh so trustworthy, oh so innocent. Far from the first to wield that look in her direction. Undeterred, he said, “I’ll even spring for the hot chocolate.”

Raven looked at her sister.

Cass beamed, shit-eating and bratty.

“Remind me again why I brought you with me to America?”

“I keep you young.”

“Which is a state in which you shallremain, when I end your life prematurely.”

~*~

On one hand, tree shopping with Greg Ingles was the last thing Raven wanted to do. (One of the last, anyway; receiving another body part in her inbox took top of the list.)

On the other hand, the casual activity presented her with an unlooked-for opportunity to learn more about him, and potentially eliminate him from suspicion. She fired off a text to Bennet, telling him to meet them at the tree lot (good God, a tree lot) Greg suggested, and with her driver, one hired man, and Shep in tow, she felt they were sufficiently safe.

She wondered what Toly would think of this outing. Doubtless he’d disapprove…but because he thought it was too great a security risk? A professional disapproval of Shep’s skill, and her level of caution? Or something darker, thornier, and far more personal? What would he make of the way she and Greg had sat shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip in the backseat of the Rover? How would he have felt when he saw the wide, unguarded smile he tossed her over Cass’s head as they stood here now at the arching entrance of the tree lot?

She wasn’t too proud to admit that she hoped he’d be jealous. That’d he squirm a little inside, and wish violence toward her would-be suitor. She was in no danger of falling under Greg Ingles’ spell, but when she thought of Toly disappearing off her balcony before dawn this morning, an unsmiling wraith, a petty, ugly part of her wanted to rub Greg in his face. Just a little.Other men want me. I’m not yours for the taking, waiting around for you like a loyal dog.

She tried to shove all thoughts of him aside, despite knowing that was a losing game, and focused instead on feigning interest in Greg, and in taking real interest in their surroundings.Head on a swivel, Fox’s voice chimed helpfully in the back of her mind.

Portable, tinsel-covered fencing threaded with lines of white icicle lights had been set up in one corner of a Target parking lot, a makeshift winter wonderland, cut trees arranged in a forest of tree stands across artificial turf, Christmas music and the hard drone of a heating unit blasting from the trailer-cum-office at the far end. Animatronic, light-up deer slowly raised and lowered their heads, and an illuminated, plastic Santa waved at them with a recorded “ho ho ho” as they passed beneath the arch of the gate and into the press of bodies moving around the trees.

There were lots of families: sticky-faced children with pom-pom hats, harried mothers saying “no” to requests for hot chocolate, or toy shopping after; fathers trying to shoulder the trees themselves while the gangly, teenage boys in work smocks assured them they “had it.”

United in their love of a good, fresh-smelling tree, Cass looped her arm through Shep’s and dragged him off toward the back of the lot, doubtless toward the more expensive trees. Bennet and her hired man, Steven tonight, stayed at Raven’s back, their presence a welcome tingle of awareness down her neck.

Beside her, Greg chuckled. When she glanced over, she found him grinning at her, hands in his coat pockets, breath steaming in the air as he continued laughing.

“Your face,” he explained, before she could ask. “This isn’t exactly your scene, is it?”

“Am I really so transparent?” She touched her cheek with a gloved hand, and attempted a smile as they stepped around a toddler on the verge of a full-blown meltdown. The mother was waving a candy cane at her, but the poor dear was breathing in the great, shuddering draws that preceded screams.

“No,” he assured. “Everyone here’s making the same face – but I haven’t seen you let your guard down before.”

Before. They’d only met twice previously.

“Hm.” She stepped between two trees, and he had to drop back a step to follow, before he lengthened his stride and drew abreast again. “I’m afraid I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to properly celebrating Christmas.”

“You’ve been busy,” he said, in a tone she knew was meant to be comforting. “Christmas takes lots of time and effort if you want to go all-out. My folks always do: big tree, stockings over the fire, garland, lights on the house, the works. It takes them more than a month to get it all set up; Dad gets on the ladder the week of Thanksgiving to get the roofline lit up like a runway.” He snorted, face pink with cold, warm with fondness.

He was a rich boy, sure, from a better-than-middle-class family, but she found herself fascinated – as she’d always been – by the idea of a traditional, homemade family holiday. All the prep, and the hassle, and the fussing at one another just so you could stand back on the day and share a satisfied smile.

“I never had that,” she said, not wistful, but wondering. “Mum and I lived in the heart of London. A beautiful flat, but no lawn or garden of our own. No outside decorations. No tree, because Mum was allergic. Christmas was usually spent on holiday, or at parties: lots of glitz, and candles, and drinks…not a lot of…” She gestured to the animatronic reindeer. “That.”

“Well, not to make you feel bad, but I think you missed out.”

“Perhaps.”

They wove between more trees, and finally arrived at the section where Cass had dragged Shepherd. The trees here, arranged in a tidy row with plenty of space between so they could be inspected from all sides, were fuller, taller, and of a slightly bluer color than the ones through which they’d passed. These were the nine and ten-foot showstoppers.

The thought of crowding into the elevator with one made Raven want to sigh.

Cass circled one, avid gleam in her eye, holding up her hands as thought framing it for a photo.