Page 60 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“And would I brag about all of the women dropping me messages?”

I take a deep breath and hold her gaze. “I suspect most of them would be men, but I think you would, yes. I think the real question is whether he’s messaged them back.”

She looks taken aback, and it takes her a minute to respond. “Do you think he’d tell Ryan?”

My face must display a reaction to Ryan’s name, because she gasps dramatically and grabs my arm. Her touch is slightly uncomfortable, but I don’t want to jerk away. “Something happened between you and Ryan.”

“Not really,” I say, finally pulling away. But it hits me that Cynthia might be better able to parse what happened than I am. She’s dated a lot of men and kissed more of them. I have also dated several men, but my handful is smaller than her barrel. “I…well, I suppose I kissed him.”

“Why, Anabelle Whitman,” she says with excitement, her blue eyes fixed on me. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I shouldn’t have,” I say forlornly.

She darts a furtive glance at the doorway. “Was it a bad kiss? Because I find that hard to believe.”

“No, it was good…for me.” My mouth puckers. “But it mustn’t have been for him, because he apologized and told me that he only wants to be friends. Then he admitted that the only reason he’s stayed around so long is because my grandmother asked him to help me take care of the inn. And she wanted him to get rid of Weston.”

“Weallwanted you to get rid of Weston,” she says, shaking her head. “But he spoke just like men always do. Out of his ass. That boy is obsessed with you. I’ve been waiting for you to notice.”

“He most definitely is not,” I say stiffly. “He wants to take care of me as if I’m some stray dog. I don’t need him to fix me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

She smiles again, but it’s a softer smile. “You may not need a man to fix you, and you may be perfectly fine on your own. But that doesn’t mean the people who care about you won’t want to support you.”

Her words ripple through me, disrupting my thought patterns, but I firm myself against them. “He doesn’t like me like that. He made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t think we’re suited for each other. Besides, I just broke up with Weston. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking, for once. You were feeling. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Are you going to follow your own advice?” I ask her archly.

“Maybe I’ll have a talk with Ryan.”

“Don’t!” I say, alarmed. The last thing I want is for her to make him think the kiss meant something to me. If he thinks that, he may realize that I’m starting tolikelike him. That would not be good, and…

“About Jeremy,” she amends softly.

“Yes, you should probably do that,” I agree with a relieved sigh. Then I remember Joe, who’s probably somewhere in Williamsburg by her—himself. With no one to talk to. And from what Ryan said, there was a breakup with Craig…

Friends should support each other, exactly like Cynthia said.

“Anything else happen I need to know about?” she asks.

“My friend Joe is actually a man, and he’s here in Williamsburg.”

“Damn.” She adjusts her bonnet. “This is what happens when you leave town for a day.”

I smile at her, and she gives my arm a pat. “I have to go, hon, but you’ll work it all out. And I mean it about Ryan. That boy has it bad. He’s showing all the signs.”

“What are the signs?” I ask in wonder.

“He doesn’t look away from you. Everything he says is ‘Anabelle this,’ and ‘Anabelle that,’ and ‘wouldn’t Anabelle like this?’ And don’t even get me started on that red velvet pancake. Do you know he mixed a whole new batter to make that for you yesterday?”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d hold back if he wanted to kiss someone.” No, he seems like a man who’d sweep a woman off her feet, kick the door open, and throw her onto the bed… Not that I’ve been thinking it.

“He wouldn’t hold back if he didn’t give a shit, probably. Which only means that he does give a shit.”

“I don’t know anything about him, though.”

She sniffs. “All the better. The more you know, the less interesting they are. I’ll see you later, sugar.”

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