Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she blurts out, cutting me off. “I’m not taking any money for this.”
“The hell you aren’t,” I snap, my body stiffening. “This isn’t up for debate, Hollis. I already told you I don’t accept charity.”
Her chin lifts stubbornly. “Good, because I don’t either. Poppy’s help is more than enough payment for me.”
Before I can argue further, she opens her door and jumps out, effectively cutting off the conversation. “Thanks for the ride home, Officer Cross.”
My cock hardens at the way my name falls past her lips.
“I’ll see you Monday evening when you come to pick up Poppy.” She doesn’t even give me the chance to respond to that before she closes the door and heads up the driveway.
I don’t let her get far before I lower the passenger window, my voice cutting through the cold air. “Hey, California!”
She whirls around, flashing me a smile that would have knocked me on my ass if I wasn’t already sitting down.
“We’re expecting some nasty weather this week, so be sure to keep that snow brush handy,” I tell her, feeling a smirk form. “I wouldn’t want you to get into any more unnecessary fender benders.”
Her eyes narrow, a spark of irritation flashing within at my attempt to have the final word.
“I swear, Cross, one of these days you’re going to find that snow brush shoved up your ass.”
I chuckle, loving how easy it is to rile her up.
She continues up to the house, determined to have the final say, and I decide to let her have it.
Once she’s safely inside, I put the truck in gear and pull away. On my drive home, I find myself suddenly looking forward to Monday.
Hollis
“That will be twenty-eight dollars, please,” Poppy announces, helping me ring in our final customer of the day who happens to be Mrs. Bufford, the elderly woman who owns the candy shop across the street with her husband.
She pays Poppy with cash, giving the exact change before slipping her an extra dollar. “And here’s a little something just for you.”
Poppy’s face lights up at the shiny gold coin. “Wow, really? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” The older woman nods. “I can tell you’re a hard worker and that should be rewarded, especially at your age.”
“She’s a very hard worker,” I add, knowing she deserves all the praise.
Poppy has been coming here for almost a week now and she has been an absolute pleasure to have around. Her kind heart, bright spirit, and love for Christmas are felt by everyone who walks through that door. Her presence is cherished by all, especially me.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Bufford.” She jumps off the stool she stands on and runs around the counter, giving the older woman a hug.
“You’re very welcome, dear.” Mrs. Bufford smiles, returning her embrace. “Just don’t go spending that all in one place now, ya hear?” she adds, giving her a pointed look.
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Poppy promises. “I’m going to put it in my piggy bank. I’ve started saving for something big.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Bufford inquires thoughtfully. “And what might that be?”
I listen closely as I begin cashing out, finding myself just as curious.
“A trip to California!”
Her confession brings a smile to my face. I should have known.
“I’ve always wanted to go because of Disneyland,” she explains, “but I don’t care about that anymore. Now, I just want to go so I can still see Hollis after she leaves.”
My heart stutters to a stop, pausing me mid-task. To know she wants to see me even after I leave fills me with warmth. It means she has grown as fond of me as I have of her.
“Wow, that is big,” Mrs. Bufford muses, clearly impressed, “And expensive,” she adds, her soft chuckle floating through the store. “In that case, you’re gonna need a few more dollars.”
Poppy gasps at the five-dollar bill she’s handed, jumping up and down in excitement.
Her reaction prompts a shared smile between Mrs. Bufford and me.
After several more thank-yous, Poppy sees the elderly woman out the door, flipping the open sign to closed, before skipping back over.
“I can’t believe she gave me six whole bucks,” she says, settling back onto the stool next to me. “That sure was nice of her.”
“It was,” I agree. “But she’s right, you deserve it. You’re a hard worker and very good at your job.”
A sense of pride adopts her sweet face. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
My praise has her beaming from ear to ear. “Thanks. Want to split the money?” she asks, holding out the six dollars to me. “You work hard too.”
My heart warms at the offer. This nine-year-old girl is more thoughtful than most adults I know. “No. You go ahead and keep it.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “You’re going to need it for when you come visit me,” I add with a smile, playfully nudging her shoulder.