Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“There.” I stepped back from the window area. Zeb’s plan had been to bring in an assortment of the ceramic holiday village pieces the store offered, and I’d had the idea of arranging the buildings to look like the historic downtown of Kringle’s Crossing, complete with hardware store, florist, and construction paper roads and miniature trees and holiday lights. I’d fussed far longer than necessary with the details, but the end result was worth the time. “That may do.”
“May do?” Zeb laughed fondly and bumped my shoulder. We were the only two in the store at the moment, so we could get away with a few of the touches I was fast getting addicted too. Long glances. Sneaky touches. Late-night kisses. I loved it all so much more than I’d ever thought possible. And the warmth in Zeb’s voice touched long-neglected places in my heart. “It’s perfect. You did amazing, and it looks so good that I’m going to put a picture up on the store’s social media sites.”
My skin heated. I swore I’d blushed more in the past few weeks than over the previous ten years. “You think everything I do is great.”
“Because it is.” Zeb gave me a toothy grin before sobering. “No, seriously. I see you trying. You’re not simply killing time here. You seem invested in Seasons. That matters a lot. And you’re a quick learner.”
“Yeah.” I had to glance away, studying the far wall of ornaments. Zeb saw so damn much, more than anyone else, possibly ever. And his praise came so easily, whether I was wrapping gifts or playing one of his games with him at night. While it seemed I could do wrong, there was also nothing fake about Zeb’s enthusiasm. He truly did value the effort more than the results. “Thank you.”
“You’re not used to compliments, are you?” He touched my shoulder, getting me to return my gaze to his face. His eyes were kind and soft. With him, I could reach a level of honesty I simply couldn’t with others.
“Not really, no.” I shrugged. “Not like I’ve gotten a ton. In the navy, competence is assumed. Demanded really. Tough love, so to speak. And growing up…”
“Your folks weren’t the cheerleading type?” Zeb finished my thought for me.
“God, no. Nothing like your parents.” A wave of sadness washed over me. Zeb and Gabe’s parents had been the gold standard. Zeb’s drawings on the fridge, Gabe’s test scores proudly displayed, both boys bragged about, and frequent hugs handed out. Watching them had made my chest hurt, and now that they were gone, I didn’t know what to do with the grief. I missed them, but I also missed what I’d never had myself. “I… A lot of times, it felt like my parents didn’t see me. They were wrapped up in their own lives, partying, travel, friends.” I released a weighty sigh. In so many ways, my current situation with limited contact was better than the years I’d spent hungry for their attention. I’d always felt like if I did better, was that much closer to perfect, they might finally value me. “Getting them to notice I was there was hard enough.”
“I’m so sorry.” Zeb rubbed my shoulder. With him, I didn’t have to be perfect. I only had to try, and that was such a blessing that I gave him a quick, tight hug before he continued, “All kids deserve cheering on, and you, in particular, deserve all the praise. And noticing. You’re awesome and pretty hard to miss.”
“Thanks.” My voice came out all gruff, but I might have said more had the front door not chimed right then.
A bundled-up kid strode in. Somewhere between eight and ten, she wasn’t our first pint-sized patron. Several Kringle’s Crossing families had the tradition of letting kids come in and pick a gift for someone special. This girl had warm-toned skin a few shades darker than my olive complexion, a purple wool coat with big flower-shaped buttons, a patent leather purse, and a riot of curly hair someone had attempted to smooth into submission with a ponytail.
“Hey there.” Zeb strode over to greet her with a wide smile. I hung back because I’d noticed over the last few weeks that I tended to intimidate the younger customers while Zeb was an absolute natural at helping them. And a pleasure to watch. “How can I help you, madam?”
“I’m not a madam.” She let out a charming giggle as she fished a crumpled bill out of her little purse. Her smile was missing several teeth, and her smattering of dark freckles became more vivid with every excited bounce. “But I have twenty dollars. Paper money, not a card. See?”
“I see.” Zeb craned his neck to see beyond the girl. In the parking lot, a newer sedan with an older female driver had parked right by the door.