Page 106 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

I’d told myself I wouldn’t do this until we have a conversation about my past, but I’ve put that off. And put it off some more. And put it off further.

Because if she sends me packing, it’s going to break me.

But maybe we don’t need to have that conversation first. Maybe—

We’re still in the toy store parking lot, and someone honks their horn at us. I pull away from Anabelle and wave at the scandalized-looking woman behind the wheel of a minivan, hoping like hell she doesn’t give Ada a call later.

I glance at Anabelle, grinning, suddenly feeling on top of the world. “Let’s go home.”

It’s not until I’m almost there, going fast but not fast enough to get pulled over for speeding, that I realize what I said.

Home.

I’ve been here less than a month, but itfeelslike home. Anabelle feels like home. I love her, and I love her bed and breakfast, and I love all of her friends. I even love her cat. And although the Santas and I didn’t begin on such a great note, I’ve gotten to like those crazy bastards too. Hiding them in new places for the scavenger hunt is one of my favorite things to do, because Anabelle and Joe always do a test run to see if they can find them. They’re funny as hell about it—super competitive—and I enjoy watching them.

I’m thinking about all of this, my heart so full it hurts, as I park the car. Grinning at Anabelle, I grab the bag with the teddy and stuff it into the pocket of my Santa coat. It’s only as we get out and walk toward the inn that I spot the police cruiser parked outside, where no cars are supposed to go.

She shoots a look at me, her eyes full of horror. “Joe.”

I grab her hand, and we run toward the entrance, but when we get to the steps leading up to the front door, she shakes her head so hard I’m worried she’ll hurt herself. “I can’t go in there, Ryan. I’m frozen. I can’t go in there.”

I can feel it in her grip. I’m dying to go inside to see what the fuck is going on, but my priority is Anabelle. I wrap her up in my arms and hold her, whispering to her promises I don’t know if I can keep—it’s going to be okay,I’m going to make it be okay—and one promise I will keep, no matter what—I won’t let anyone hurt you.

She lets me guide her to sitting on the cold step, and it’s then that Joe hurries out of the B&B, a police officer trailing behind him. His eyes are red, which isn’t very promising, but at least he’s alive and uninjured. This is about something else.

“You’re okay,” she says. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Joe assures her.

I help her up and then nod toward the door. “Let’s get her inside. It’s too cold out here.”

“Not yet.” Joe bites his bottom lip.

“Cynthia?” Anabelle croaks.

I wrap my arm around her, holding her up. I’m not too worried about Cynthia. If something had happened to Cynthia, the police wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t have had any reason to come back to the inn after dropping Anabelle off at Curio.

“I’m so sorry, Anabelle,” Joe says, tears leaking down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” I ask, looking from him to the officer, who’s rocking on his heels. He’s a big guy with a crew cut and the beginnings of a beer gut. Maybe thirty-five, maybe fifty.

“There’s been a robbery,” he says.

And there it is: the other shoe dropping.

Anabelle and I exchange a knowing look. The ornament must be gone.

Only…

Joe doesn’t even know about the ornament, so why would he have called the police?

“I don’t know how this happened,” Joe says, tears streaming down his face. “I was here the whole time, and we changed the locks. Ryan even put those locks on the windows himself.”

“No one broke in,” the officer says, squaring his jaw. His gaze tracks from Joe to me. He smirks when he notices my Santa suit.

“The guests all have keys,” I say, my mind working at the puzzle. “Maybe it was one of them, or someone lost one. What did they take?” I ask, holding Anabelle close. Her body is stiff, but I feel small tremors working through her.

“They took the ornaments and all of the Santas,” Joe says, crying harder now. “Do you think it was Craig retaliating? I don’t think it could have been because he’s been posting vague Instagram stories every thirty minutes, and they’re all from thestockroom at the grocery store, but I don’t know. I can’t think clearly. I can’t make sense of any of it.”

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