Page 6 of The Bookworm Who Stole Christmas
Amelia shrugs, pointing her spoon at me. “Well, you’ll just have to find out then, won’t you?”
“Helpful, oh, wonderful daughter of mine,” I say with a saccharine smile. She grins back in response. I think about what she said, ideas running around in my head. “I mean… itcouldwork. I’m sure someone must know where she lives. Plus, it’s a small enough gesture not to freak her out, but big enough to get her in the mood.” I snap my fingers, feeling optimistic. “Let’s do it. We can’t get into that much trouble for it, can we?”
“Dad, I’m pretty sure it’s a felony to go onto someone’s property without their permission and decorate their house,” she replies, her lips pursed.
“If anyone asks, it was all my fault, and you’re just the look-out girl.” I wink.
Amelia rolls her eyes. “Fine. It’s for the good of Christmas, so I’m in.”
Mom walks into the kitchen, interrupting us. “You have your we’re-up-to-no-good faces on.” She arches a brow and points at us.
My mom, Samantha Grayson, is one hell of a woman—feisty but soft. Even at sixty-four, she’s still beautiful. Her brown eyes have only ever shown wisdom and kindness, and her ample figure is always draped in some sort of bright color to ‘offset the white of her short hair,’ or so she says.
Amelia and I glance at each other. “Us? No, never,” I gasp, clutching my chest in mock outrage. “We were just discussing, erm, the, uh?—”
“Theory of relativity,” Amelia cuts in with a smile.
“Yeah, that,” I agree, but my face must say it all since Mom raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t get my baby girl into trouble, Parker,” she admonishes jokingly, walking to the sink to rinse the dishes.
I jump up out of my seat and rush over to her. “Let me do that, Mom. Go and sit down. I’ve got this.”
She pats my chest and kisses my cheek before sitting next to Amelia. “So, what’s going on?”
I concentrate on washing the dishes, pretending I didn’t hear her.
“Dad has a crush on a girl who hates Christmas,” Amelia announces without a care in the world.
I whip around, my eyes wide. “Amelia,” I whisper-yell, soap suds dripping on the floor. “What happened to father-daughter secrecy?”
“What?” She looks at me as if she hasn’t done anything wrong. “Grandma can help. She’s the one who gave us our love of Christmas, isn’t she?”
She’s not wrong. My mom would go all out every year, buying tons of presents and making enough food to feed anarmy. It always reminded me of the Hallmark movies I used to watch as a kid—families coming together, laughter filling the house, and the lights twinkling on the Christmas tree.
No matter how many years have passed, I still get a rush of excitement the minute November hits. I’m even man enough to admit that I still put out a plate of cookies, a carrot, and a glass of milk for Santa and Rudolf on Christmas Eve.
“Fair point,” I agree, grabbing the towel and wiping my hands. “I also don’t have a crush,” I mumble, my ears burning at the lie.
“Why does she hate Christmas?” Mom asks, settling herself back into her chair.
“I have no clue. I just met her today. I wanted to get Amelia a book, but the owner refuses to stock anything related to Christmas.” I shrug, still baffled by the whole thing.
“Hmm.” Mom taps her finger against her bottom lip. “My guess is she’s been hurt badly around the holidays. A bad breakup or a bad family life that’s left a sour taste in her mouth.”
I nod my head slowly. What she’s saying makes sense. “So we make her fall in love with Christmas again?”
“Does she want to?” Mom asks, her head tilted.
“I don’t know, but I have to try. It’sChristmas,” I exclaim, my chest aching at the thought of Maddie hating the holidays.
“Remember, Parker, just becausewelove Christmas doesn’t mean everyone else will. Go carefully, or you might end up pushing her away. You can be a bit much sometimes.” She smirks, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“It’s not my fault I’m a happy-go-luckykind of guy. You did raise me that way after all,” I point out, grinning back at her.
“You’re trouble, that’s what you are, Parker Grayson, just like your father.”
“But that’s half his charm, though.” I wink, and Mom nods her head.
