Page 53 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I announce, and Ryan grins at me encouragingly before nodding toward the stairs.

I shut my door behind me, because Saint Nick lost interest in our conversation a few minutes ago and has settled onto my bed as if he owns it. We walk down side by side, and I find myself giving Ryan a sidelong glance, taking in that little scar on his chin, the waves in his light-brown hair, and the powerful biceps hugged by his long-sleeved shirt. He’s a surprise—a mystery—and I’d like to unfurl him too.

When we get to the parlor, Ryan gapes at the room beyond.

It’s empty.

“Is the surprise that he’s transparent?” I ask. “Because thatwouldbe impressive.”

“Well, I’ll be…” Ryan says, but then his gaze falls to the coffee table, mine following it.

There’s a handwritten note:

I’m a coward. Can you please tell her? I’ll come back for Hot Chocolate Happy Hour tomorrow.

I give Ryan a quizzical glance.

“Why don’t you sit?” he suggests.

“I’ll stand.” I’m tired of being a person who has to sit to absorb bad—or at least strange—news.

“So, it was your friend Jo who came by.”

Excitement bursts through me. “She washere? She asked about meeting in person, but I thought we’d set a date.”

Then I remember the note. The mystery man…

“Yes.” His mouth hitches to the side, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, and I know he’s amused. “But she is a he.”

“What?”

He maintains a level gaze, his face impossible to read. “I’m surprised you two have never met before. He said you’ve been chatting online for a year and a half, about everything. Your boyfriends. Your businesses.”

“It’s easier for me to communicate in writing most of the time,” I say, feeling completely thrown. Over the last couple of days, one surprise after another has materialized, like a set of Russian dolls. I don’t care that Joe’s a man and not a woman. It’s his soul that matters to me. But the fact that we’ve been talking for this long and I didn’t know, and he didn’t tell me…it’s stunning.

I don’t like that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.

“Joe realized you thought he was a woman, but by then you’d been talking for months, and he was worried you’d retreat. He didn’t want to lose you, so he let the misunderstanding stand. But it sounds like his life just imploded in a big way and he might need our help.”

“Ourhelp?” I repeat, stunned anew.

It’s not the first time Ryan has called us a “we,” but this one really rattles me for some reason. In a good way, I think, but it also feels dangerous.

He meets my gaze, and his mouth curls again into that smirk, and something inside of me melts like chocolate yielding to a hot marshmallow. “Yeah. What do you know. I think he just became my friend too.” He glances at my merry Santas. “He says he needs somewhere to stow his Christmas stuff. His ex-boyfriend is threatening to toss it all.”

I gasp, promptly decide that I would like to sit after all, and plop down onto the sofa. Ryan’s smile spreads wider as he sits next to me.

“It’s not funny.”

“Didn’t say it was. It’s just…cute, how into this you both are. He nearly snapped my head off when I almost used that tea towel on the credenza to wipe up a spill.”

I chuckle, remembering. “Probably because that’s how I met Joe. We both bid on it, and I won.”

“Why didn’t you sell it if it’s worth that much dough? No offense, but it’s nothing special to look at.”

I glance at the tea towel, then at him. “I could have sold it. I had someone who wanted to buy it, but it was tied to how I met Joe, and I couldn’t bring myself to give it up.”

He watches me for a long moment, his throat bobbing up and down, like he’s literally swallowing what I said.

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