Page 56 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“You think? Why would I be happy to find out you only kissed me because my grandmother told you totake care of me, like I’m some kind of problem? I thought you believed in me.” My throat gets tight. “I thought she did too.”

“Shedid,” he says, almost frantic. He reaches for my hand, but I tug it away. “So do I.” His tone is firmer. “If you’re wondering if I’m here because Grandma Edith asked me to come back, then yes. That’s why I’m here. But I didn’t have to stay. I wasn’t going to mess with your life. I just wanted to stick around for long enough to make sure you were safe and everything was going well.”

“And you saw what a mess my life really is. Fantastic.” I fold my arms over my chest. “But I don’t need you to fix me, Ryan. I don’t need anyone to fix me.”

Something like hurt passes over his face, but he nods. “Are you asking me to leave?”

I could.

Ishould.

The expression on his face suggests he’d listen.

But I still haven’t unfurled his mysteries. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder. I’ll wonder, too, if I sent him back into the darkness after he left this place.

So I shake my head.

“I’m your friend, Anabelle,” he pleads. “I want to be your friend.”

The part he leaves out—I don’t want to kiss you.

He implied it was a good kiss, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’s used to kissing fashion models who take kissing classes in Paris, and my lack of technique disgusted him. Or maybe I misread his signals and he didn’t want to kiss me at all…

Anxiety pulses through me, springing back and forth between my muscles and skin.

“I have to go,” I say.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing it seems,” I say primly. But I still can’t bring myself to do it. “Good night.”

I’m dying to tell someone about this, but Jo’s…well, Joe…and that’s something else I still haven’t wrapped my head around. I could call Cynthia, but she’s probably on her way back from D.C., and I don’t want to be the reason she gets into an accident.

An hour later, there’s a knock on my door, but when I peer out of the peephole, I don’t see anyone.

I open the door and find a wrapped sandwich waiting for me.

Hemade it. I can tell by the layers of flavor and the perfect execution.

I eat it like a ravenous animal.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

RYAN

I’ve screwed up with Anabelle, but at least she doesn’t want me to leave the inn.

I’m never going to forget what it felt like to kiss her. It was pure bliss, easily better than anything else I’ve ever experienced in my whole life.

Kissing her was a bad idea, though. Grandma Edith wouldn’t like it, for one thing. For another, Anabelle is the kind of woman who should only be pursued by a man who has something to offer. I don’t have anything. I was rejected for a job shoveling horse shit, for Christ’s sake, and while I do have an interview tomorrow, if I don’t blow it off, the only other solid job prospect I have is to work for another criminal. Even though I have no intention of taking Javier up on his offer, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s sitting there on my phone—or that he’s one of the few people I’d call a friend.

I’m no good for Anabelle, end of story. If I let myself think otherwise, I’m playing pretend, and no good can come of playing yourself for a fool.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about the look in her eyes after I told her about her grandmother’s note. She doesn’t even know about the ornament or my criminal history, and she alreadythinks I betrayed her. What would she think if she knew everything?

Probably she’d feel like Jake.

She’d want me to leave.

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