Page 3 of Beards and Holly

What if he got out and ran into the road? What if he were to get hit by a car? What if he gets lost, and I can’t find him?

Grabbing my keys, I run out the door and head for my truck. With my hand on the door, I stop at the sound of his bark.

“Gizmo?!” I hollar for my dog but get no reply.

Abandoning my truck, I walk around my house, listening for him. It’s when I make it to my garage I hear the annoying sound of Christmas music, followed by a round of cheerful barkingfrom my traitorous pouch. From where I stand, I see through my neighbor’s window, and the sight has my jaw on the ground. Holly’s wearing tiny black shorts and an oversized red sweater that hangs off her shoulder. Long red and white striped socks hug her thighs, and her hair is braided and draped over her bare shoulder.

They’re in her living room, and she’s got my dog’s paws on her arms as they dance around. She throws her head back, laughing, and I’m momentarily stunned. My grandma wasn’t wrong when she called this woman beautiful, and that’s probably why I’ve intentionally stayed away from her. Holly is gorgeous, and not just in the typical way I find a woman attractive, but just looking at her you can see what a sweetheart she is. She works with kids, loves my dog, and is obsessed with Christmas. That last one might be a negative, but as I watch through her window, I can’t help but love that about her. Her smile is contagious, and I can’t help myself.

I should definitely stay away.

Fuck.

Shaking my head to try to knock some sense back into myself, I march to her front porch with a scowl she doesn’t deserve. If I’m mean, she’ll hate me, and it’s much better that way. The last thing I need is to start falling for my neighbor.

CHAPTER THREE

Holly

My impromptu dance party with Gizmo comes to a halt when my phone rings.

“Be right back, big guy. Save the last dance for me, would ya?”

Caller ID reads Santa Steve, and my stomach forms knots. The poor mall Santa has been a nose-dripping mess, and we still have two more days before we close for the season.

“Hello, Santa,” I say in greeting.

“Hey, Holly. Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I wanted you to hear it from me first since you’ll be stuck with the fallout.”

“You’re too sick,” I state. It’s not a question. He spent the last few days sneezing on everyone.

“I am, dear. I’m sorry to put you out like this, but I just can’t seem to get any better.”

“Oh, Steve, don’t feel bad for me. I’ll figure it out. I just want you to get better.”

“Well, thank you, sweetheart. I’m sure Mr. Darrel will be calling you soon with a replacement or to close it down early. I hope it all works out.”

The owner of the mall is a greedy man and will have me in that suit before he closes down. I honestly need the money, so I can’t even complain.

“Thanks. Don’t worry about anything but yourself now, and let me know if I can bring you that tea I promised. Or maybe some soup.”

“Thank you, Holly. Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

We both say our goodbyes and hang up. My mood is no longer cheerful, and I sink onto the couch in worry. I need this weekend’s pay to make my mortgage. I went overboard on Christmas presents, as I always do, and I need to make up the difference.

Gizmo, being the best dog ever, comes to rest his big face in my lap.

“I’ll be okay. Somehow, I’ll figure it out.”

Just then, there’s a knock on my door. I should have expected it, but when I answer and it’s my grumpy neighbor, I’m still taken back. His scowl draws my stare. It can’t have anything to do with his rugged good looks or piercing blue eyes. Nope can’t be.

“Hey,” I mutter since he says nothing. Instead, his brows sink farther as if he doesn’t like something on my face. Uncomfortable from the intense look, I pull my sweater up my bare shoulder. It’s cold outside, but not nearly as frigid as his look of disdain. What’s his problem, anyway?

Oh shit, I kidnapped his dog.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I try to explain as Gizmo plows out the front and starts jumping on his stoic owner.

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