Peace (16 page)

Almost as worried as he was about how he'd react when he finally came face-to-face with the most important man in his life.

Chapter 16

It is a
wonderful-gut
night. A holy night. Ain't so?

M
OSE
K
RAMER

It was snowing again and Chris felt at peace.

“When was the last time you felt that way, Hart?” Chris mumbled to himself as he turned away from the frosty window he'd been staring out of for the last few minutes.

He didn't even need a second to know the answer. It felt like it had been forever since he'd felt so calm inside.

Usually, he woke up in a daze, blinking furiously as he forced himself to remember who he was currently pretending to be and where he was. He'd learned the hard way that forgetting his cover for even a second was hazardous to his health. The slightest hesitation or mistake meant that months of hard work could vanish in an instant.

Now, though, he was merely himself. That was all. He should have felt curiously bare. Stripped and vulnerable. Instead, he felt free.

With one ear to the door, he changed out of the old pair of sweats he'd been sleeping in and put on a clean pair of jeans, white T-shirt, and wrinkled chambray shirt from the bag Ryan had brought. He'd lived in clothes like this when he was in high school and college. The fit was familiar. Comfortable.

Only now did he wonder where his boss had gotten the clothes. Had he asked Taylor for help? Had he simply guessed his sizes? Was there some secret file that the powers-that-be kept on each employee? He wouldn't put it past anyone at the DEA.

Which brought, of course, everything full circle. Tomorrow someone from the agency, most likely Taylor, would arrive. They'd pick Chris up and whisk him away into oblivion.

He'd be back on the job with a new identity. It was sure to be someone grungy or depraved or at the very least someone down on his luck and desperate.

And then, little by little, he'd have to force himself to become that person. He'd slowly change his speech patterns, change his dialect. He would once again do things he abhorred around people he disdained.

And inside? He'd block the pain of losing himself with the knowledge that he was doing something that needed to be done. For the greater good.

Unfortunately, he didn't think that would let him sleep at night. Not anymore.

“Chris?”

Trotting to his door, he pulled it open, then blinked at the picture Beth presented.

She was bright with happiness. “It's Christmas,” she said with a smile. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He couldn't help smiling back. With effort, he willed himself to keep both of his hands at his sides. If he wasn't careful, he'd find himself reaching for her and pulling her into a morning hug. A sixth sense told him that she would welcome it, too.

Then they'd have even more to regret when he left tomorrow.

He forced himself to keep his manner a little distant. “How are you this morning?”

Her bright smile dimmed. “Oh. I'm
gut
.” Little by little, her stance mirrored his. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to try to cook some breakfast with me? Or would you rather I let you know when it's ready?”

“I'll come to the kitchen with you. Last night was fun. And you're in luck, Beth. I can actually cook eggs and bacon.”

Her smile eased. “I can, too.” She turned and started walking down the hall, down the stairs.

He followed on her heels, realizing about halfway down the stairs that she had on a different dress. This one was blue with a white apron. She looked as pretty as a picture. Wholesome and innocent.

Which, of course, was what she was.

When they got to the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then followed her directives. Soon he was in charge of the bacon, Beth the eggs and toast.

There was little of the teasing, romantic banter that had lingered between them the night before. He knew it was his doing. She'd come to his door in high spirits.

After eating in near silence, then washing the dishes side by side, Chris knew he had to say something. It wasn't fair to keep her on pins and needles. Not when she'd done so many things for him.

Not when she'd given up Christmas to watch over him.

When the counters were clean and too much coffee had been drunk, he knew there was little left to do but be honest.

“Beth, let's light a fire and sit in the hearth room again.”

“That's not a
gut
idea.”

“I know. But let's do it anyway. I want to talk to you.”

Her eyes looked a little wild. “We can talk here.”

“Not like I want to.” Lifting up a corner of his lips, he reached for her hand. “Please?”

She pulled her hand from his. “I don't understand what game you are playing with me.”

He knew she didn't. But what she likely didn't understand was that he wasn't playing a game. He was just as confused about what he wanted from her . . . and what he didn't want. “Please, let's go sit down.”

To his surprise, the hearth room already had a fire lit. It was cozy and warm and comforting there. After she sat down on one of the couches, he sat across from her on one of the wooden chairs in the corner.

Today, she sat very still and stiff. “What did you want to say?”

“That I am sorry for ruining your Christmas.”

“We've already gone through this.” Scorn filled her gaze. “Why can't you simply be honest?”

“You don't want my honesty.”

“I do. I certainly do. I want to know what you think about me.”

“I think you are the finest woman I've ever met.” Her eyes widened. “I care for you, Beth, but after tomorrow, it won't matter.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Well, yes.”

“You're wrong, Chris Ellis—ah, Chris Hart—whatever your name really is.”

“I told you the truth about my name.”

“Yes, you finally did.” To his surprise, she jumped to her feet, looking as irritated and out of patience as any of the women he'd met on the streets. The ones who felt like their chances were few and their futures were already decided.

A little shocked, he leaned back and let her speak.

“You may know a lot about fighting crime and apprehending criminals, and drugs, Chris, but you know nothing about feelings.”

“I agree with you.”

“You just hush for a minute.”

Slightly stung, he sat back. “Okay . . .”

“Chris, when you left me the first time, you fairly broke my heart.” She held up a hand when he started to speak. “It doesn't matter that you didn't mean to do that. It happened.” She sighed. “For the last few months, all I've done is mope around and wish that things were different. I ached for you to return so I could say everything I wanted to. But I never thought I'd see you again.”

He was so crushed by her words, by the pain in her voice, he said what he shouldn't. “Beth, it was hard on me, too. I missed you. I thought about you all the time.”

“And you did come back.”

He now realized that the pain he'd felt a few months ago was going to be nothing compared to the pain he'd feel when he left her again.

And he should know better than to force a conversation like this. “You know what? You were right. Sitting here together was a mistake.”

Now she was the one who looked so sure. “I don't think so. I think you came back because you knew that I was the person you needed to be with. Most of all.”

“You're right,” he whispered, finally giving in.

“What?”

“You're right. You're right about that. About everything,” he said quietly. “The truth is that from the moment we met I've been attracted to you. And not just your looks, Beth, even though I think you're just about the prettiest thing I've ever had the good fortune to set eyes on. There's something about you that I can't ever ignore. You glow. You bring me happiness just by smiling. You make me happy just by being you. So much so that it's all I can do not to grab your hand and pull you to my side when we talk.”

Gazing at her, he continued with a small, bitter laugh. “And do you want to know the rest of it? I want to do a whole lot more than hold your hand, Beth. I want to wrap my arms around you. Kiss you.” His gaze burned. “And more.”

She gasped. He knew he'd shocked her.

It didn't matter if most everyone else in the world would roll their eyes at the tender, oh-so-chaste thoughts. Most people were bombarded with cable and movies and video games and shiny ads full of people barely clothed.

Most of the people he'd known while he was playing the part of Chris Ellis didn't even blink an eye at a scantily dressed woman or a man intent on satisfying his darkest urges.

But here, in the prim and pretty Yellow Bird Inn talking to sweet, clean, precious Beth Byler, his words felt shocking. Almost shameful. But that was the point, wasn't it? Though he knew he shouldn't be telling her these things, he didn't regret it. He ached to share with her his true self.

“I'm not a saint, Beth,” he rasped, feeling like he was laying the worst of himself out for her to see. “Rarely have I even been considered good.”

“You're being too hard on yourself. I know you.”

“You don't know me well enough.”

“I disagree.”

“Listen. I can promise you this. I am going to do something decent for once.” His resolve made his voice sound firmer. He was glad of that. “From now on, I'm going to leave you alone. And tomorrow, I'm finally going to leave you forever.”

Pure dismay lit her eyes. And, something darker that he couldn't quite discern. “It sounds as if you've figured everything out.”

He was glad she was starting to see things from his point of view. “This isn't a sudden decision, Beth.”

“I see.” One delicate brow arched. “And you have no need to ask me how I feel?”

“Beth, I'm doing what is right. For both of us.” At last, he paused for a breath. Staring at her, he steeled himself, waiting for her rejection. For her tears.

Anticipating the pain that was about to come when he saw just how harsh his words had sounded to her. Almost welcoming the feeling, almost glad to know that he had made yet another mistake that he couldn't repair.

Instead she stood up.

Her gaze was hard. Her lips slightly parted.

“Even though you haven't asked me for my opinion, I'm going to give it anyway.”

“What do you have to say?” He half dreaded yet yearned to hear her words.

She stepped forward. “I think you are forgetting something, Christopher Hart. I'm not a naïve Amish doll. Or some young innocent girl. I'm a grown woman who lost her father at too young an age, and has been nursing her mother for years now. I even stitched your wounds.” She waved a hand. “I also have a job. A real job. Many, many families count on me to take care of their children. There's no greater responsibility.”

“I never thought that you weren't a worthy, wonderful woman, Beth.”

“But you are treating me like I don't know my own mind.”

“I'm treating you like you deserve someone who is going to stick around.”

“I dare you, Chris. I dare you to treat me as an equal.” She stepped forward. “You know what I am saying. Do something that you said you wanted to do. Hold me close. Hold me too close. Wrap your arms around me.” Her chin lifted. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “That is . . . if you still want to.”

His throat was dry. His body frozen. This was not going like he'd planned. She was supposed to be running from him, looking at him in disgust. Instead, she was practically propositioning him. Daring him to do something he so desperately wanted, but was so afraid to give in to.

“I don't think we should . . .” he began again as he rose to his feet, his voice sounding suspiciously like he had a frog in his throat.

To his dismay, she rolled her eyes. “I suppose I must do everything,” she murmured.

Just before she lifted her hands, curved them around his neck, and then raised her lips to his.

And kissed him. Just as he'd imagined, her lips were sweet and soft. Perfect.

All he could do was close his eyes and hold on tight.

And, to his shame, kiss her back.