Page 98 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

CHAPTER THIRTY

ANABELLE

Santa Claus boyfriends: 1

I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open.

“He did good, didn’t he?” Joe asks. “She’ll have to hire him. It isn’t his fault kids have poor boundary issues and sticky fingers.” We’re sitting in the car, waiting with the heater on full blast, and Joe has been nervously monologuing for at least two minutes.

“He did fantastic,” I say, my heart full of pride. He did. He was glorious, just like he was at Joe’s old apartment. Just like he was last night, with his head buried between my legs. Just as he isalways. I lift my fingers to my lip, remembering how he feels there too. “It was sweet of him to get us chairs.”

“It felt like sitting on a pool floaty, but I’d rather sit on a pool floaty than against a shelf of screaming dolls. Why were they screaming? In what world would a child want their doll to scream? I didn’t want a screaming doll when I was a kid.”

“No, neither did I,” I say, paying only half attention to him because my mind is fuzzy with fatigue. “My mother got me a crying baby doll, and I tried to hide it in the back of a drawer. She said I lacked a maternal instinct.”

He snorts a laugh.

Movement at the front of the store catches my eye, and I straighten when I see Ryan coming toward us. He looks…upset.

Oh no, oh no, oh no. Did she not give him the job? I don’t want him to feel lesser for having been rejected from two positions he’s more than capable of doing. I know I’d feel downtrodden.

“He doesn’t look happy,” I say, pulling on the side of my lip nervously. “What should we do?”

Joe releases a gusty breath. “I just ran and left you and Ryan to a stampede of children, so I don’t think I’m a good person to ask for advice.”

Ryan comes around to the driver’s side of the car and raps gently on the window with his knuckles. He’s removed the Santa beard, wig, and hat, and is holding a plastic shopping bag. I roll the window down.

“Why don’t you get in the back, sweetheart? It was a lot in there, and I can tell you’re tired. I’ll drive.”

Affection for him swells inside of me. He understands my needs and doesn’t make me feel lesser for having them.

I get out of the car, but as I pass him, I lift up to brush a kiss on his lips. He makes a surprised sound but then presses a hand to my back to pull me closer. My heart is thumping fast when he lets me go. “It’s okay if you didn’t get this job,” I say. “We’ll find something else for you.”

He gives me a smile that feels hollow. “I got the job.”

“Oh, then…”

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

He opens the door for me, and when I climb into the back, he pulls the remaining pillow out from under his shirt. “Here you go.”

“No, thank you,” I say. “I have a thing about having someone’s sweaty chest pillow next to my head. Even yours.”

He grins at me, a more Ryan grin, and says, “At least I got an ‘even yours.’”

“I’ll take it,” Joe offers from the front. “I have a crick in my elbow. It got hit by the falling baby doll.”

Ryan’s grin stretches wider, and he shuts the door for me before getting into the driver’s seat and handing Joe the pillow.

“What happened?” I ask, fighting impatience.

He glances around, looking in all of the mirrors. His vigilance reminds me of the way I get when I’m feeling unsafe. “Weston was having someone follow us. He paid that kid twenty bucks to pull off my beard.”

My mouth drops open. “Hedidn’t.”

“It’s okay,” he says, darting a reassuring look at me. “I’m going to go have a little talk with him.”

“No, Ryan. That’s not a good idea. It won’t make him back off. He—”

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