Page 48 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
But something has definitely put her on edge. Resisting the urge to pry, I smile at her while hoping she’ll tell me of her own accord. A weak hope, given how she views me.
“I’m ready,” I reply. “It’s only decorating, right?”
As Hollie knocks on the door of her parents’ home, she gives me a tight smile. “Boy, you have no idea.”
She’s right, I really had no idea what I was in for. Christmas in my family is nothing more than an excuse to drink, make a fewdeals, and pay someone to spend the night with you. Christmas for Hollie and her family is like stepping into another world.
As soon as we’ve over the threshold, her father Martin thrusts an armful of Christmas lights into my arms and I’m ordered to detangle them. Toto, who accompanies us, is in the middle of laughing at me when he’s dragged away to help Martin unfurl the Christmas tree. Hollie is whisked away by her mother, Susan, to get another few boxes of decorations out of the attic, and the hectic day begins.
Unfurling Christmas lights is the easiest task I’m given. As soon as I have them laid out in a straight line across the sofa and the coffee table, I’m ordered outside and up a ladder where I have to string the lights across the gutters and down the drain pipes. It takes the better part of an hour, with Toto bracing the bottom of the ladder while also weaving together a couple of dozen ribbons into miniature wreaths under Susan’s guidance. Once the lights are strung up, we’re painting snowflakes and rubbing Santa decals onto the windows, spraying fake snow over the flower boxes despite the flakes drifting down around us, and winding a second set of lights around the stone fence surrounding the front of the property.
My fingers are frozen numb by the time I’m back inside with a cup of hot chocolate to warm my soul. Each sip of the divine sweetness warms my soul and burns my throat, but I drink greedily. It’s my last moment of warmth before I’m back outside in the snow with Martin and a gigantic tree to set up in the front yard. Through the freshly decorated window, I glimpse Toto covered in lights and tinsel as Susan and Hollie use him as a stand while decorating the tree inside.
“Hold that,” Martin barks at me, leaning the tree in my direction. “Need to dig a hole for the pot.”
“Do you want me to dig?” I ask, slightly concerned as Martin braces his lower back while sinking down to his knees.
“I can do it,” he says briskly. “I might be old, but I’m not incapable. That goes for a lot of things.” He glances up at me, his eyes narrowed with a quiet warning. “I’m a retired cop, not an invalid.”
“I don’t think your knees will care either way, but that’s fine. I’m just here to help.”
“Help,” Martin scoffs. “Is that what you call it?”
I tilt my head away from the branches and watch Martin brush snow away from the ground and grasp a flat handle buried in the grass. To my surprise, the handle pulls out a large circular chunk of dirt and the resulting gap is perfect for the trunk of the Christmas tree.
“I call it help, yes,” I say with a grunt, maneuvering the tree into the hole. It lands with a thunk that makes all the branches tremble. “Although if my being here is causing an issue, I’d hate to intrude.”
“Hate to intrude,” Martin mutters, grabbing onto the tree. He uses it as support to stand. “What exactly is it you do, Maxim?”
“For work?”
“Yes.”
“I’m an accountant.” The lie rolls off my tongue. “A private one, so I can’t disclose who I work for.”
“Sounds like you help the rich dodge their taxes.”
“I help them do whatever they pay me for.”
“Like a cockroach.” Martin brushes the snow from his clothes and fixes me with a cold look. “You might already have a ring on her finger, but that doesn’t mean I gotta like you.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I agree. Glancing back inside, I glimpse Hollie doubled over laughing at how ridiculous Toto looks and a small smile creeps over my own face. “But I hope in time, you’ll see that I care for your daughter, and it will earn me some goodwill in your book.”
Martin grunts. “Hardly. She’s a reckless girl who makes reckless decisions.”
“You think I’m a reckless decision?” I meet Martin’s eyes. There’s suspicion buried in their dark depths, likely born from his years on the force, and it’s dangerous for me to stand here and entertain him. I’d prefer to keep him in the dark about who I am, but a man of his caliber will dig. And he’ll keep digging until he learns exactly who I am and what I do.
When that day comes, there won’t be anything I can do to stop my father fromtaking careof it.
“I think you’re a stranger,” Martin says gruffly, sniffing against the cold. “I think my daughter disappeared and came back married, and I think there’s something wrong with her.”
“Is there something wrong with her?” I ask cautiously. “Or is she just happy and you’ve never seen that before?”
His lips part briefly, but whatever he plans to say next is silenced by Susan hurrying out of the house with two steaming mugs in her hand. “Boys! Here, drink this so you don’t catch your death out here.”
I clasp the cup of tea thrust into my grip with both hands and flash Susan a grateful smile. “Thank you. I like maintaining the use of my fingers.”
“If this snow gets any heavier, then I want you both inside, understand?” Susan’s sharp gaze darts between us. “None of this machoI can handle itcrap.”
