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

His fingers caressed the inside of my wrist in the soft spot where the blood vessels are exposed and vulnerable. My whole body caught fire. “I may not let you go home,” he said, his eyes concentrating on the dark highway ahead.

That totally caught me off guard. I tried to think of something funny to say to break the tangible sexual tension, but all I got was a long sigh, and his fingers help the fire spread along my veins.

“Why are you so tense?” he asked.

I swallowed hard. “It’s the time of the year. I get lonely. I miss my family back home but usually not this bad. Everything is hitting me at the same time, you know. I guess you can say I don’t adapt well to changes. And December seems to be determined to throw daily twists my way. Like Brenda’s career shift, that’s huge.” To his credit he didn’t come back with any I’m here for you sappy clichés. He held on to my hand, and that was the most romantic gesture I had experienced in a very long time from a man I hadn’t slept with.

After Casa Grande, we approached the spot where the truck had crashed on top of Tristan’s vehicle. Somehow the subject of that incident hadn’t come up the whole trip, but was now unavoidable. Tristan put both hands on the steering wheel of his leased Land Rover. “Fiat, this is where it happened, remember?”

“How can I not? I’m guessing we had some angels watching over us.”

He laughed. “They liked you better, you had hardly a scratch.”

“True, but we were both lucky. Are you keeping this car?”

“Maybe. If I remember the deal, we were going to go car shopping together. We waited long enough we can now look at the 2019 models.”

“By the way, where were you all afternoon? Did you go riding?”

“No. we have a new group of horses arriving, and we had to improvise on how to house them until the new stalls are ready.”

“Where are they coming from?”

“Nevada, they are rescue. I don’t know much about it. Not even sure if they will all make it, we’ll see.”

To the west of the highway, the bright lights of the Wild Horse Pass Casino lit the sky, competing with the rising moon. Getting close to home. Both of us returning to our empty houses. Well, he had his horse.

“How come Angelique decided to live at the ranch?” I couldn’t get myself to say your wife using her first name somehow felt less intrusive.

He shrugged. “She’s not fond of the big city, or the desert. I’m guessing now that her health is improved she misses the open spaces and the weather of her country. Unlike you, she doesn’t have much family left that I’m aware of.”

“Did you two first met there?”

I could see his body tense. He turned and gave me a quick, puzzled look. “No, of course not. I never traveled to Martinique and was in Vail, skiing, when it happened.”

When what happened? The question screamed inside my head, but I said nothing. Chicken. Whatever it was a sense of doom filled the car, and I made myself as small as possible in my leather seat. I never thought that could be possible, but it was with great relief that I eyed the sign announcing the 51 North and the end of our journey.

Ten minutes later, the black Rover idled in the dark driveway I shared with Brenda, except...Brenda was in Tucson. The rest of my street wore the Christmastime dress-up as every night in December.

“Let me walk you to your door.” He unfastened his seat belt.

“No, no. Please don’t. I don’t like formal goodbyes. This is good. Thanks for everything.” I opened the door and started to step out.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back, aye... what now? He gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead. “Call me if you get lonely or need anything. You know where I live, right?” He chided.

I nodded, glanced at him with his high cheekbones bathed in the amber glow from the dashboard. Then, shaking from head to toe, I practically hopped away from the car before one of us had a change of heart.

I slid the key in the lock, and to my surprise, the Land Rover backed up and left as I opened the door. Somehow I had totally expected Tristan to wait until I turned on the lights.

Except—the lights were already on? OMG! I—I—was I in the wrong house? Did someone break into my place and leave a decorated Christmas tree in the middle of my living room? Like a fool, I looked around...then checked my bedroom...and then my cell chimed. To say that my fingers shook so hard I had problem pushing on the answer button would be an understatement. Mercy.

“Hmm—hello?” So shook up by the sight of the tree I couldn’t see the caller’s ID.

“Monica, what’s wrong with you? You having a stroke?” Brenda.

“No.” a short sob escaped my control, damn. “No stroke, it’s just...Brenda, there is a Christmas tree in my living room with decorations and lights, and it’s, yes, I’m pretty sure it’s 6 foot if you count the topper. Did you do this? Is that why you had me coming to the ranch?”

Silence.

“It sounds like a nice tree. How about you send me a pic with your phone? Did you find a note? By the way, no. Not me.” Pause. I knew she was trying to tell me something. What? I dropped my stuff where I stood and slowly circled the tree trimmed with twinkling miniature white lights. There were silver bells and gold and silver round balls and all kinds of shining decorations. Some looked like crystals and then...then there was one that stood out among all the beautiful gold and silver, a shiny small hot pink Fiat 500. And my name was written in cursive on the tiny license plate. I couldn’t breathe, the phone still in my hands. I had