Page 29 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

I hold my hand out for a shake, and he ignores it. A man and a woman squeeze by us, giving us annoyed looks. But as soon as they get past, the man turns to check out Anabelle’s ass—so I reach out and wave my unshaken hand at him. He snaps to so quickly he probably cracked his spine.

When I turn back, Anabelle’s dad is still staring at me. “You’re the one my mother left that note for.”

“That’d be me,” I confirm. “She was quite a lady.”

“Yeah,” he says tightly, his jaw flexing. “Quite.”

Oh, hell no. Grandma Edith doesn’t deserve that. I glare at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s already shifted hisdisapproving frown to Anabelle. “You shouldn’t be personally giving guests tours,” he says. “Your job is at the B&B. You insisted you wanted the job, so do it.”

Her expression is frozen, almost like she’s gone somewhere else and left behind her body.

Nope. Not standing silently by and letting this asshole go on a rampage of assholery. He started something by talking shit about Grandma Edith. I won’t let him get away with putting Anabelle down too.

“Actually,sir,” I say. “It’s called customer service. I’m guessing it’s a good thing Edith left the B&B to someone who appreciates what that means.”

He looks like he just went on the showHot Onesand swallowed a whole mouthful of ghost pepper hot sauce.

Anabelle tugs my arm, her eyes wide but no longer frozen. “You’re right, Dad. I need to get back to the inn. We’ll talk later.”

A man with a long beard squeezes past us, headed for the Christmas room, and I catch Anabelle’s eye and mouth, “Santa.”

She smiles, which seems to piss off her father.

“You’re going to let your friend disrespect me?” he says in a rumbling voice.

“You started it,” she replies firmly.

He holds her gaze, ignoring me as if I’m part of the scenery. “If you rejected Weston, then you’re a fool.”

Her bottom lip trembles, but she keeps her backbone steady, and my God, I’ve never wanted to punch a man in the face this much before. But we’re in the middle of a dead person’s house, and he’s Anabelle’sfather. Still, I can’t do nothing. I think I’d implode if I did nothing.

“You’re the fool for talking to your daughter like that,” I say, letting myself shift one step toward him. He slinks back like I thought he would, and to my delight, his calves hit a wooden bench that someone set up in the front hall. His legs buckle,bucketing him onto the seat, and he makes a littleoomphof surprise.

Anabelle stifles a surprised laugh, and I grin at him as I say, “Anabelle deserves to live her life exactly the way she wants to live it.”

Though his face is the shade of homemade tomato soup now, he recovers more quickly than I would have liked. “Don’t you get it? She’s not normal. She’ll never be normal.”

“Thank God,” I say, thinking of the way she brushed her fingers over the Christmas table earlier. Wishing he’d try to get up so I could at least have the pleasure of shoving him back down.

I turn to look at Anabelle, because if she looks pissed off, I’m going to take that as a go-ahead to deck this guy, but she’s gone.

CHAPTER TEN

RYAN

I hesitate for a second, because this guy really needs to be taken to task, but Anabelle needs me more. I choose her. Easy.

I run out to find her, but Anabelle is out of sight. All I see is the table set up out front between two big ornamental bushes. The attendant sitting behind it is so interested in her own phone, she doesn’t even look up to see if I’m a shoplifter. It’s only as I barrel past that I realize Iama shoplifter. The reusable shopping bag is still slung over my shoulder.

I pause.

I consider.

I retreat to the table and clear my throat.

The attendant looks up at me with wide eyes. “Yes?”

I set the bag down in front of her.

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