Page 80 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“So you can worry about getting a strongly worded email from Sam the Shithead?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“That’ll definitely be part of the evening’s plans,” I admit, then gesture to Joe. “But we also have business to discuss. I’m guessing it will take several nights.”

Like how to change the B&B’s name legally and what kind of role Joe wants to have at the inn while we partner up our Christmas businesses.

“All work and no play will put Anabelle on the naughty list,” Cynthia singsongs.

“I didn’t hearyousay you’re going to the bar,” I point out. “Or babysitting tonight.”

She shrugs. “Because babysitting is a thankless task,especiallyif the kids are related to Jeremy, and I have plans tomorrow night.”

Jeremy flinches. “Oh? What are you doing?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says with a sassy grin.

I can tell that he would, indeed, like to know. They’re playing a game with each other, that’s for certain, and I can’t make out what it means.

My gaze lands on Ryan.

I’m playing a game, too, I think, and I’m in over my head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RYAN

I’m in trouble.

Anabelle held my hand during the entire inspection as if I were her lifeline, and I didn’t want to let go. Hell, I wish I were still holding her hand.

I haven’t done more than kiss her, but I’ve never felt like this with a woman before. It’s overwhelming and exhausting and incredibly sexually frustrating, to be honest. Because she’s always there, within touching distance, but I’ve told myself I can’t touch her.

Everyone’s tired on Monday night, and the evening passes in a blur. Tuesday’s another blur—I spend an extra-long morning at the gym, and when I get back Cynthia is already gone and Anabelle and Joe are setting up their office. They confirm that no one has heard from the inspector yet.

There’s nothing obvious for me to do, so I drive around and look for restaurants that have Help Wanted signs posted. There are a couple, but the chefs are looking for experienced help, which I’m not.

In the back of my head, a voice tells me it’s time to go. It insists that my usefulness is wearing out, and it’s time for me to pony up the ornament and then man up and visit Jake.

The thoughts are like an itch at the back of my brain—I can’t get rid of them, they’re annoying, and I also can’t bring myself to give in to them. The thought of hanging the ornament on the tree or leaving it at Anabelle’s door and simply walking out leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

So I’m more than ready for a distraction by the time I meet up with Jeremy at the Green Leafe Café. I arranged to get a drink with him for a few reasons, one of them being that Cynthia asked me to. Another being that I like Jeremy, so I think it’ll be a good time.

Despite its name, the place has a bar atmosphere, with a long wooden bar at the rear of the room, along with some booths to the left and group seating at a large rectangular table next to the bar. There are a few mounted TVs that add to the atmosphere.

Jeremy’s already waiting when I get there, wearing his street clothes—a green William & Mary hoodie and jeans.

“Fuck me,” he says with a grin as I approach the bar where he’s waiting on a stool. “It’s the Grinch himself.”

“In the flesh.”

“Thought you’d be greener.” He slides his full pint glass around in a circle, then nods to the bartender, who comes over and asks me what I’d like as I settle onto one of the stools. I order a local red ale on tap.

“This is on me,” I tell Jeremy with a nod. “I did some research. I know how much of a deal you and your uncle cut us.”

More than twenty percent.

He angles his head. “I don’t like what that guy is pulling on Anabelle.”

“Neither do I,” I agree as the bartender brings me my brew. “I expect more trouble from the inspector. There was something dodgy about him.” I can’t put my finger on what, exactly, other than that Weston obviously sent him. But my gut was screaming at me the whole time he poked around the inn.

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