Page 48 of Sleigh My Heart

He walked his fingers up from her biceps to the ball of her shoulder. They skated over the curve of her throat, around to the back of her neck. That soft wavy hair brushed the tips of his fingers. He itched to grab a fistful and anchor her to him, but he didn’t. Relaxing his hands, he concentrated on her mouth.

Oh, that mouth. She could melt him with just the slightest movement of her tongue. It was sexy as hell, and she did it now.

Nick groaned. He felt the smile cross her lips as she pulled back.

“What was that for? Have you been eating more pot cookies this morning?”

He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Honey, I don’t need drugs to want to kiss you. That comes as natural to me as breathing. Always has.”

Always will, was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Not the time.

He stepped back and picked up the lab report. “Mind if I make a copy before you take this?”

“Sure. I should have the full report by tomorrow. He just did a quick run for cannabis this morning.”

He scanned the report with his phone and gave it back to her. “Tonight is pizza night. Why don’t you come over after work and we can discuss our findings?”

“What about Ava?”

“She likes to read in her room before bed. She’s already at a sixth-grade reading level.”

“Wow, she must have gotten that from her mother.” Michelle smirked.

“Funny, but probably true. Anyway, she won’t be listening to us. Does six work?”

She nodded, then turned toward the door. “Oh, the store owners can email a list.”

“Got it.” He put his hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels as he watched her go.

If Nick found the bastard who desecrated her house before she did, she’d be arresting him for assault.

***

Nick had no idea that so many stores in Ashwood sold paint. He started at the local hardware store, then the craft shop, followed by the Hobby Hut on Third Street. He checked with the Dollar Tree and finished with the two stores in the mall that sold paint. One was his own father’s place of business. He didn’t realize they had a section in the back.

But what was more mind-boggling than the number of places was the number of people buying red paint in December. He shouldn’t be surprised with the holidays, but it wasn’t exactly painting project weather. He slammed the truck door and dropped the latest list in the passenger seat, along with the other lists.

Thirty-two. That’s how many people bought paint. Correction. That’s how many paid with a card. There were at least a dozen more that paid cash.

Nick blew out a breath and checked his phone. He’d talked to his father this morning, but the doctor wasn’t ready to let him out yet. Nick promised to swing by around lunch, even though his father swore he was fine and wanted to be released.

Nick headed for the hospital. He glanced at the stack of papers in the seat. Michelle wanted them emailed to her, and he had the store managers do that. He didn’t say he wouldn’t keep a copy for himself. Something in his gut stirred. He’d bet his dog tags that this was related to Staniski and Garmen.

When he parked at the hospital, he shoved the lists in the console and picked up a bag. Nick’s clipped steps echoed as he crossed the entrance and made his way to the elevators. He nodded to a couple nurses at the floor station as he continued to his father’s room. The door was closed. He knocked and slowly opened the door.

“Come in. I hope you’re here to take me home.” Russ Jolley had never been good with hospitals. To be honest, neither was Nick. A vision of his mother in a similar bed flashed in his mind. Nick shook it off.

“Maybe. What did the doctor say?”

His dad grumbled and slumped back in his bed. “Something about another test.”

“Well, I have something to cheer you up.” Nick set the bag of cookies on the bed. His dad’s face brightened.

“Are these from my office?”

Nick didn’t want to get into that just yet. “No, even better. Mrs. Swenson made them.”

“Ooh, Irene has the best baked goods. The woman could have run a bakery.” Russ bit in and groaned. “Yup, as good as I remembered.”