Wine, Dine and Christmas Crimes by Maria Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📕

then you can get the burgers, one for you and one for Dior for sure. I petted his head; he let out a sigh.

Ten minutes later I had the Dumont home in sight. One wouldn’t guess Christmas to be only a week away, not by their outside décor, or the lack of it. Maybe where the Dumonts came from they didn’t celebrate Christmas, or they did but not in a gaudy commercialized way like here in America. I left my car outside the gate, walking up the long driveway would be good exercise.

“Right Dior?” I said to my four-legged companion while letting him out of the car. Holding the leash in one hand and the elegantly wrapped package in the other, the Great Dane and I climbed the wide, paved path. And I noticed rows of tiny lights wrapped around every branch of every tree lining the driveway. There you go Miss Know-it-all. They did decorate, just not with inflatable rolling reindeers.

Thankfully, dogs can’t read people’s minds. I side-glanced at Dior, just to reassure myself. He was busy sniffing every paver, every bush, and his tail wagged without stopping. Maybe he picked up the scent of Tache, Tristan’s horse? No way. If I remembered correctly the horse barn was way in the back of the property. Not that I had seen it of course. Heard talk. Parked at the top, by the front of the house there was a shiny silver SUV, looked like a Cadillac Escalade. Tristan’s new car? No, couldn’t be. Okay, first I didn’t know what car he bought to replace his Land Rover, and second, Tristan was down at the ranch. I pushed the doorbell and fidgeted.

The setting sun reflected on the beveled glass, creating a warm glow. Now Dior’s tail moved faster than the ceiling fan in that scene of Casablanca, and his nose swiped the bottom of the massive door. He startled when Lois Thomas opened.

“Monica, what a nice surprise, and who have we here?” She looked at Dior. “Come in, come in.”

I did go in—not that I had a choice with Dior pulling on the leash like searching for a giant bone. A tall, skinny Christmas tree dressed to impress took center stage in the large entry. It had Tristan’s signature all over. Simple and rich. Gave me goose bumps.

“Who is it?” I recognized Angelique Dumont’s voice coming from somewhere in the den, and sure enough, that’s where she walked from to welcome us. She w-a-l-k-e-d all by herself. No wheel chair, no walker, not even a cane. It was like a miracle, and I found myself staring—staring and trying to control Dior who yanked me toward the large window with the view to the patio. “I—I stopped by to...I-have a thank-you gift for your husband, you know...for the ranch...” I swallowed air.

“Terrific, he will be so happy to see you and your dog. He’s in the back with his horse.”

What? I opened and closed my mouth a few times, searching for some intelligent thing to say while fighting Dior and holding the book under my arm. The two women seemed to see nothing, hear nothing, totally involved with whatever they were doing before I dropped on them.

Which was—“Dear, we have to go, already running late. We have a board meeting at the ranch. Is your aunt on her way?” My aunt? Brenda? Well, she wasn’t really my aunt, besides, what the hell was happening here?

“Ready?” Lois reappeared from somewhere, wearing a leather coat and carrying a briefcase. She jingled some keys. “I’m driving,” she announced. “Monica, please tell Tristan we left. Okay?”

I was still chasing flies with my open mouth when the front door closed behind the women. Now I understood the Escalade. That and nothing else. I looked around the room where I stood, feeling like an intruder. I could leave the gift under the tree where Tristan was bound to find it, but he wouldn’t know who left there, thanks to that erudite millennial who had convinced me not to write inside the cover. Damn.

And just then, Dior pulled away and rushed to the window where he stood on his hind legs barking like a maniac.

“Dior no.” I rushed over. “You’ll break the glass. Get down. Right now.” A large shadow darkened the frame, and Tache, the black and white Appaloosa trotted by with Tristan, holding a round thing in his hand, chasing after her.

Dior would not be ignored, his bark reaching new volume as his head pressed against the glass. Both horse and owner came to an abrupt stop. Two heads turned to look square into the window. Tristan was the first one to react. A smile spread from his lips to his amber eyes.

“Fiat.” He moved quickly, and before I could get Dior’s leash firmly wrapped around my fist, Tristan opened the French doors leading to the outside where his horse paced impatiently. Waiting for Dior to go out and play?

Tristan stood on the threshold, keeping the door ajar with his left shoulder, perhaps trying to keep an eye on his horse while assessing the unexpected situation.

As for me? I hadn’t moved. I could hardly breathe. I stood still by the window holding Dior’s leash with Tristan’s gift tucked under my other arm, completely confused and not knowing what to do. And yes, my mouth still open and sucking air. Nothing changed, except for my eyes, stuck on Tristan.

He looked so good. I didn’t know how long he had been chasing after the horse or if he had been busy brushing her down, but perspiration put a glow on his olive skin and highlighted his cheekbones. Add a snug fit to his shirt, and say hello to the heat spreading through my body.

“Fiat, I didn’t know you were here. Why didn’t you come get me?” It was hard to understand every word with Dior going completely bonkers and the Appaloosa on the grassy area keeping up with the dog’s ruckus. I had to do something before Tristan assumed