Page 90 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

Her brow furrows. “You don’t look like you slept.”

“I got something better than sleep,” I say in an undertone. “I got to look at you.”

Then I leave and head into the breakfast room.

Cynthia has watched and listened to our entire interaction, of course, but I don’t care if she knows. If I’m being truthful, I want everyone to know. Weston is first on the list.

Text conversation with Jeremy

911. Cynthia dyed her hair.

Fuck.

Excuse me for saying so, but this is your chance, bud.

Uh, what do you mean?

You’re interested in her, right?

It’s that obvious?

To me, yes. Cynthia is more hardheaded.

So what do I do?

Fix the hair situation.

I’ve got to go to work, and I don’t know dick about hair.

Develop a cold.

Use the internet.

If I mess this up, she’ll never forgive me.

Yeah, but think about what happens if you fix it.

I decided to do something about Anabelle, and now I think this is your time, brother.

Jeremy shows up after breakfast.The guests have left, but Cynthia, Anabelle, and I are sitting in the breakfast room drinking coffee. Joe hasn’t come down yet.

I’ve got to hand it to Jeremy. He’s a much better actor than I am, because he doesn’t react at all to Cynthia’s terrible dye job.

“What are you doing here?” she says, self-consciously lifting a hand toward her hair before she shoots me an accusatory look.

I grin and wave at her from across the table.

Anabelle doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her watching me. My grin gets so big it’s in danger of swallowing my face.

“I heard you called in sick,” Jeremy says. “But here you are, playing hooky.”

Cynthia glowers at him. “And here you are, doing the same.”

“You know what, you’re right,” he says, patting his chest with the flat of his hand, which he then holds it out to her. “Come with me, Cynth.”

“To where, exactly?” she asks, still sitting.

“Richmond,” he says, then pulls out his phone to check the time. “And we’d better leave now in case there’s traffic.”

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