Page 79 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“What happens now?” I ask nervously. Ryan steps a little closer, his side pressing against me, offering his body’s warmth and hard strength. I feel a surge of gratitude and affection. He was Joe’s protector yesterday, and today he’s mine.

“Yeah,” he says, “what happens now?”

“Now, I go write my report,” says Sam.

I lick my dry lips, worry thrumming inside of me. “Is there—

“Nothing poses an immediate threat,” he says.

Relief washes through me, so sweet and soothing I almost laugh. “Oh, that’s great. So great. Would you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go?”

He gives me thatI hate puppieslook but then clears his throat. “Do you have marshmallows?”

I release Ryan’s hand and then bear the indignity of being stared at by everyone as I prepare a to-go hot chocolate for the inspector, doubling up on the mini marshmallows.

He takes it from me and immediately makes his way toward the front door.

Ryan watches him, his jaw flexing, and then calls, “You’re welcome.”

He doesn’t reply.

We trail Sam to the front of the inn, and Jeremy gives his back the middle finger as he walks out the door and heads down the front steps. I give Jeremy an admonishing look, but I don’t really mind. It’s a profound relief that the man is gone. For now.

I shut the door and turn to look at my friends. My gaze settles on Ryan, possibly because I can still feel the impression of his hand in mine.

“Well, that went okay, didn’t it?” I ask.

“I don’t like it,” Ryan says, his voice soft but his words extremely unwelcome.

“Oh.” Something inside of me sags.

Ryan shifts on his feet. “We know they have bad intentions, so why did he just walk out of here without doing anything?”

“It may be a scathing report,” Joe puts in. “Some people are better at being mean in writing.”

“I could use a drink,” Jeremy says. “Anyone else want a drink?”

Cynthia gives him a pointed look. “We have an afternoon shift. You should have had one when Anabelle took her shot of whiskey this morning.”

“I didn’t do that!” I protest, my voice coming out louder than intended.

Ryan smiles, but it’s a blip of an expression, there and then gone in an instant.

Jeremy groans dramatically. “Oh, come on. That was brutal.”

“I’ll grab a drink with you tonight,” Ryan tells him.

“I can’t tonight.” He grimaces. “I promised my uncle I’d babysit. His little girls are a nightmare. They always try to braid my hair. Anyone want to come?”

He delivers this part hopefully, but no one volunteers.

“We can get that drink tomorrow night?” Ryan suggests with a half grin.

“Sure, I’m gonna need it.”

“Anyone else want to come?” Ryan asks. His looks directly at me, and I feel another gush of affection for him. But not enough that I want to spend tomorrow evening in a loud, probably dirty bar. I’ll probably still feel depleted from the inspector’s visit, and Joe and I have a lot of work to do on our office.

“No,” I say. “I’ll probably stay in.”

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