Saving Mistletoe Read online

  by

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  SHANNA HATFIELD

  Saving Mistletoe

  Copyright © 2017 by Shanna Hatfield

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized editions.

  For permission requests, please contact the author, with a subject line of “permission request” at the email address below or through her website.

  Shanna Hatfield

  [email protected]

  shannahatfield.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Peppermint Cookies

  Books by Shanna Hatfield

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Portland, Oregon

  “No, no, no, no,” Ellen Meade chanted, glaring at the blank, black screen of her cell phone in disgust. Hadn’t she charged it just a few hours ago? With her luck, the charger hadn’t been fully plugged in and she’d failed to notice in her haste to get out the door.

  What else could go wrong? This day, this whole disastrous week, or was it year, might give her ulcers if she survived it.

  She stopped on the downtown Portland sidewalk and glanced around. Although she was only a dozen or so blocks from her office, she hadn’t visited this particular part of town for a long time and had no idea how to find her client.

  With the client’s address and phone number trapped in her dead phone, along with directions on how to find Mr. Smith’s office, she experienced a moment of panic. Situations like this never happened to her. Ellen was always organized. Always. She planned everything with care and foresight, leaving no room for surprises or failures.

  Yet, despite her best efforts, nothing had gone according to plan recently.

  Last year, her best friend had gone to Atlanta for a brief visit, fallen in love with some hunky horse wrangler who turned out to be a wealthy plantation owner, and married him a short time later. Tara and Brett were the epitome of wedded bliss, especially with a baby on the way.

  Not that Ellen begrudged her friend a single second of happiness. Truly, she was thrilled Tara was living out her happily ever after, even if it was in Georgia and Ellen remained in Oregon.

  When they were younger, dreaming of how they would take life by storm, Ellen had set her goals and achieved them with startling precision. The list of achievements she pursued wasn’t long or complicated: graduate from high school with honors, earn a full scholarship to college, graduate at the top of her class, pass the bar exam, take a job with a firm that guaranteed promotions and prestige, earn a partnership and get married — all before she turned twenty-six.

  After celebrating her birthday two weeks ago, she’d felt the twinges of disappointment plucking at her soul. She’d failed to live up to her own expectations. Without a boyfriend in sight, the possibility of getting married seemed even more far-fetched than gaining a partnership at the firm where she worked.

  The partnership that opened up last month went, of course, to the nephew of one of the founding partners. The man was severely lacking brain cells, but Ellen couldn’t very well tell her boss that. She supposed they’d figure it out soon enough. In the meantime, she assumed additional responsibilities in her already overwhelming workload, including meeting with this client whom she had no idea how to find.

  A quick glimpse at her watch confirmed she had less than ten minutes to find the building or she’d be late.

  What she wouldn’t give for the good old days when public telephones, and telephone books, could be found every few blocks. If she had access to one, she could call her client. As it was, she knew she should have written down the address instead of relying solely on her phone.

  The July sun beat down on her in an unexpected heat wave. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades and slithered along her spine, increasing her discomfort. She should have taken a cab, one with air conditioning. Instead, she’d decided to enjoy the beautiful weather and take in the blue skies, blooming flowers, and sweetness of summer on a stroll to meet Mr. Smith. Now she was overheated, anxiety-plagued, dripping sweat, and about to be unforgivably late.

  “This is just perfect,” she muttered, dropping her phone inside the leather bag she carried over her shoulder before adjusting the bag’s strap.

  “Think, think, think,” she said, rubbing her temple with one hand and closing her eyes.

  Her mind drew a blank. Not so much as a hint of the address came to her. No sudden recall pointed her in the right direction. No burst of brilliance helped her remember the client’s phone number.

  Frustrated and resolved to returning to her office to retrieve the information she needed, she spun around and smacked into something warm and extremely solid. Momentarily stunned, she was afraid of what she’d hit. She cringed as she considered the possibilities of what she’d done.

  The scent of leather and a man’s masculine fragrance mingled with an aroma she vaguely recalled from summer camp when she was thirteen. She’d spent six weeks learning how to ride a horse among the other activities.

  What in the world was a horse doing in downtown Portland and how had she blindly smacked into it?

  Slowly opening her eyes, she glanced up at the scowling, tanned face of a police officer as he sat astride his large chestnut mount. The horse shook his mane and glanced back at her, as though he measured her worth and found her severely lacking.

  She pushed against the man’s muscled thigh to regain her balance and took a step back. The contact with his leg left her further unsettled than she’d been mere seconds before.

  Who had muscles like that, anyway? His thigh felt like it was made of steel. What was the guy, a fitness nut? The short sleeves of his uniform shirt only accented his biceps and broad shoulders.

  A brief perusal that started at the top of his hat and ended at the toes of his shiny leather riding boots confirmed that the man was, indeed, in prime physical shape.

  His gaze held a hint of scorn as he continued to stare at her with a disapproving frown.

  “May I help you, miss?” he asked in a smooth voice that held the hint of a drawl. He didn’t sound Southern, exactly, but he wasn’t from Portland, that was for sure. The man had a rugged, outdoorsy look to him. His seat on the back of the tall horse only accentuated the persona.

  “No, thank you,” she said. Another step back nearly carried her into two businessmen walking past her. One of them gave her a cool glare while the other shot her an interested glance.

  “Are you sure, miss? You seem to be a little lost.” The officer’s expression didn’t soften as he held her gaze with eyes that were a surprisingly clear shade of blue. In spite of his gruffness, Ellen couldn’t help but notice the sculpted firmness of his lips, particularly the top one.

  Unbidden, thoughts of kissing it flew into her head. The only explanation she could latch onto w
as the possibility she had lost her mind. That had to be it. Stress, too many hours on the job, and the fact her last real date had been back in college definitely contributed to her current enthralled state.

  The officer leaned down from the saddle, studying her. “Are you an attorney?” The frown lines on his forehead deepened and angry sparks ignited in his eyes.

  Shocked by his question, Ellen mutely nodded.

  “Did you defend Jonathan Westmont a few months ago?” he asked, a hard edge seeping into his tone.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” Ellen couldn’t think of any reason this officer would know who she was, unless... She took a moment to picture him in a dress uniform, with fury riding his features as he offered testimony at the trial. If his hostile glares could have brought about her demise, she wouldn’t have made it out of the courtroom alive. The high-profile case and the fact she’d won earned her a hefty promotion and a promise she’d be considered the next time a partnership became available.

  Ellen had experienced her share of doubts about her client’s innocence. However, her job wasn’t to judge him, but defend him. She’d done her job exceptionally well. Hopefully, her client would learn from his near miss with a prison cell as his abode and not find himself in a similar mess in the future.

  “Johnnie Westmont is as guilty as sin and thanks to you the people he cheated won’t ever get their money back, or have any closure on the devastation he caused.” The officer straightened and gave her a loathsome look. “Not only that, but it’s just a matter of time before he does it again. You should feel proud of yourself for making certain a criminal was allowed to go free. If he’s the poster child for the types of people you represent, how do you sleep at night?”

  “Why do you seem to have such a vested, personal interest in him, sir?” Ellen asked, affronted. In spite of her irritation, her curiosity sought satisfaction. What did it matter to Officer Handsome-And-Hotheaded? How dare he condemn her for doing her best for the client?

  “I don’t have a personal interest in him, but anyone smarter than an idiot could see he was guilty. One of his victims just happens to be a friend of mine. And I’m the one who found out about his scheme, which is why I testified.” He gave her a long, observant glance. “Is there some reason you’re wandering around here? Do you need assistance? Escorted somewhere? Arrested for assaulting an officer?”

  From the dark look on his face, she got the idea helping her might give the man an acute case of indigestion. No doubt lingered in her mind that he’d take great pleasure in hauling her in and locking her in a jail cell.

  “No thank you, Officer,” she snapped and turned back in the direction she’d originally headed. Conscience pricked by his condemnation, she didn’t want to think about all the concerns his questions stirred.

  In fact, sleep had become an elusive wish at night since she’d accepted her first promotion at the firm. The higher up the ladder she climbed, the more she felt urged to leave behind the moral and ethical compasses that had always guided her. She didn’t like representing clients she thought were guilty, but when her boss told her to take a case, she took it without question.

  Lately, it was getting harder and harder to help clients she knew were scamming, cheating, lying scum dressed in expensive suits.

  Ellen had such big dreams, such high hopes about being a high-powered, successful attorney. Now, her dreams inched toward delusions while the power she’d fought hard to gain seemed false and empty at best.

  Regardless, it wasn’t any of the police officer’s business and today wasn’t the day to allow her mind and heart to engage in a heated debate.

  Even if she was lost, she refused to admit to him how badly she needed to find her client’s office. Her boss had stressed the importance of keeping Mr. Smith happy. Ellen had a feeling showing up late wouldn’t sit well with the man.

  The clip clop of the horse’s hooves on the sidewalk kept step behind her as she marched forward, with no idea where she needed to go. Half a block later, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to find the officer and horse right behind her. She took a step to the right and stopped, turning back with an accusatory glower.

  “Is there some reason you are following me?” she asked, indignant and growing annoyed.

  “Who says I’m following you. I’m on duty and this is part of the area I’m patrolling today.” He smirked. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

  Ellen swallowed her pride and narrowed her gaze. “Do you know where to find the office of Smith and Matlock? They have an investment firm somewhere in this area.”

  The officer nodded. “I sure do.”

  Out of patience, Ellen wanted to stamp her foot. “And? Where can I find it?”

  Those enticing lips curved upward in an almost grin as he pointed to a building across the street. “Right there.”

  “Oh.” Ellen looked at the building, noticing the sign out front and the street numbers that jangled in her memory. “Thank you, Officer...”

  “Tipton, miss. Burke Tipton.” With surprising politeness, he tipped his hat to her then rode away.

  Ellen watched him until he turned a corner before racing across the street. As she hurried onto the elevator, she pondered if she’d see the cranky officer again and felt vexed that she wanted to.

  Chapter Two

  Burke Tipton tightened the cinch on his saddle and dropped the stirrup then patted the neck of his red chestnut gelding.

  “Ready to go, Sugar Bear?” he asked, wishing he’d never allowed his younger sister to name the horse. He’d tried to convince her that the name was better suited for a mare, but Bella wouldn’t listen to him. Since he always kept his promises, his horse was stuck with the moniker. It hadn’t been so bad before Burke joined Portland’s Mounted Patrol Unit. But the other officers had nearly laughed him and Bear right out of the barn when they learned the horse’s name.

  Four years ago, Burke had requested a transfer to MPU from his regular beat with the Portland Police Bureau because he missed riding every day. He’d grown up on a ranch in Eastern Oregon where riding a horse was as second nature to him as brushing his teeth in the morning. It only took a few weeks before he worked up the nerve to ask the sergeant in charge if he’d consider allowing Burke to use his own horse. Sugar Bear passed the entry test with high scores. From that day on, they’d been an inseparable team. Burke loved working with the horse he’d trained from the day Bear was born.

  Burke swung into the saddle with ease then adjusted his seat. He’d gotten used to the Australian stock saddles MPU used on patrol, but he preferred to use his western saddles.

  Although he’d been gone from the ranch for eight years, he still yearned for the wide-open spaces, clean air, and peacefulness he found there.

  Nevertheless, he loved his job, loved doing something he felt was of value and of service. Growing up, he’d never once considered becoming a police officer. A month into his junior year of college, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was meant to be doing something different than the career path he’d chosen. Eager to be a game warden, he ignored the prompting to become a police officer.

  Finally, he gave in to the relentless inner calling and enrolled at the Police Academy. Of course, it meant dropping out of college, enraging his parents, and saying goodbye to his girlfriend who had deemed him “beyond nuts.” In spite of those who failed to support him, Burke graduated at the top of his class. Once he started working patrols, he finished the criminal justice degree he’d originally been working toward through online classes.

  Now, with autumn colors filling the landscape around him, there was no place he’d rather be than on patrol with Bear. October had arrived with beautiful, warm weather, the kind that made him glad he could spend the next ten hours working outside.

  If the day had been cold and rainy, he might not have been quite as anxious to get to work. Even then, he just pulled on his rain gear and went about his day.

  “What do you think, Bear?” Burke asked, an
d patted the horse on the neck again. “See anything amiss?”

  The horse shook his mane and continued walking down the broad sidewalk toward the heart of downtown where Burke would spend the day on patrol.

  In the distance, he could see two men arguing and gave Bear a little pressure from his knees, urging him forward. Before he could reach them, a woman darted around the corner of a building and slammed into his leg. The force knocked her backward and she fell to the sidewalk. The files she carried flapped open and papers scattered in the breeze like jumbo-sized snowflakes.

  Burke jumped out of the saddle and knelt beside her as she looked at him with a dazed expression. He held back a groan as recognition set in. The last thing he needed was to have the snippy, beautiful attorney who willingly defended crooks bump into him, again.

  What was it with her blindly walking into him and Bear? Maybe the woman needed glasses, although he’d hate to see anything cover up those mesmerizing whiskey-colored eyes.

  Small of stature, it wasn’t any wonder she’d landed on her backside as hard as she hit his leg. The tidy knot of hair pinned up on her head listed to one side, giving her a comical appearance. He tamped down his urge to laugh and gave her a questioning glance.

  “Are you hurt, miss?” he asked, keeping his voice low and soothing.

  “I... I don’t think so.” All at once, she snapped out of her trance and noticed the papers from her files floating all around them. “Oh, my files!” she gasped, struggling to rise.

  Burke took her hand in his and stood, pulling her upright. Together, they quickly gathered the papers and she stuffed them back into a folder.

  He offered her a stern glare as he handed her the last few wayward sheets. “I ought to write you a ticket, Miss Meade. If you don’t start paying attention to where you’re going, you could really hurt yourself or someone else.”

  Surprised at his gruff tone and sharp words, she lifted a curious gaze to his. “What, exactly, would you write on the ticket, Officer Tipton?”