Page 14 of The Grump Who Stole Christmas
I did say things likein the weedsall the time. Why? Because it’s how you described things about work when you wanted to get into the details.
And I don’t know when or why or how people stopped sayinglet’s talk about the detailsand started sayingin the weedsinstead, but that’s how the game was played, and damn it, I played it well. Or I had played it well.
“Dad hired him?”
“Yes, but I was part of the process. It was the one thing dad was willing to relent on, that he couldn’t handle both the inn and the farm. I helped Dad post the ad and Paul applied a few weeks later. He’s been a great addition. Solid guy. No bullshit.”
“Yes, but what do we know about him?”
“What’s to know? He plants shit and makes it grow,” Ethan stated. “Why the interest?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because he’s living in the house with Dad.”
“That’s temporary.”
“And now I’m living in the house with Dad,” I continued. “What if he’s a secret serial killer or something?”
“Well, no one has died yet,” Ethan said. “If he starts with you, who does that say more about? Him or you?”
I narrowed my eyes and focused my death glare, which sadly Ethan couldn’t see. “You know I can still take you in a fight, don’t you?”
There was a pause. “I’m pretty sure you can’t.”
“Hide your nipples, Ethan. Goodbye, my brother.”
“Kris, wait…”
Too late. I’d already disconnected the call. The key to handling two younger brothers who were significantly larger and stronger than I was, was to instill the fear of the random nipple twist.
Never let them see it coming, but always make sure they knew the threat was real.
Now there was another larger and stronger man in the house. One I wasn’t related to, so I’m not sure how successful a Purple Nurple would work with him.
Still, there was no doubt Paul Bunyan-McCleer was an adversary.
I walked over to the nightstand and picked up my boss lady mug, now safe and secure from the tree farmer’s reach.
I considered what his reaction would be when tomorrow morning I came breezing into the kitchen with my favorite mug already in hand.
It made me smile. Actually smile.
Which instantly made me frown, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d legitimately, without any pretense, just smiled.
FOUR
The Next Morning
Kristen
I plodded my way down the creaking steps of the house on my way to the kitchen. Flannel pajama tops and bottoms, thick socks, my hair scooped up into a messy bun on my head. I was cranky, cold, and I needed my coffee. STAT!
For some reason I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Maybe because I’d stayed up listening for sounds of Paul Bunyan sneaking down the hall to kill me in my sleep. Instead, all I’d heard was a shower, some light background TV noise. Then a creaking bed.
Paul was staying in Ethan’s old room and the bed frame squeaked like all get out at even the slightest move.
So technically, I’d been listening to Paul sleep, which seemed oddly intrusive and not a little intimate. Which made me feel slightly guilty, which didn’t help with my sleep so…
CRANKY!
