Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“Please don’t cry. I’m not good with sobbers.”
He spared me a hard glance before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Closet.”
“I heard you the first
∞∞∞
Later that day, I tipped my head to the side as I drank in the sight of the red cedar we’d placed in the corner of the living room. “I think that’s a good spot.”
Beside me, Dax grunted in agreement. “The one I had last year was set up near the window. It looked out of place.”
I frowned, surprised. “You had a tree last year?”
Another grunt—this one of confirmation. “Mimi hauled one here on Christmas Eve to surprise me,” he explained, frustration lining his forehead. “I only allowed her to set it up because her aunt had just died and she wasn’t in a good place.”
I would bet that Mimi had counted on him making such allowances for her. She was no stranger to manipulating him. “Did she ask to stay over?”
“Yes. But that wasn’t something I was going to consent to, no matter her situation. It certainly didn’t help her case that she made yet another … sexual overture that was subtle enough she could play off as a joke. So I told her to leave.”
Annoyance arrowed through me on hearing about her “overture.” I wondered if she’d thought he might make a more vulnerable “target” during the holidays; that she’d have more chance of successfully seducing him while he’d surely be feeling lonely. “I’m guessing she didn’t take that well.”
“She smashed a few baubles on her way out.”
My mouth flattening, I shook my head. “The woman is unreal.” Neither of us had heard from her again since the day she appeared at my office, and she hadn’t attempted to communicate through intermediaries a second time. In fact, it seemed that she truly had left Redwater and was now in the wind.
“Well, shall we get started?” he asked, unenthusiastically gesturing at the box of tree ornaments I’d asked him to pull out of storage.
I gave him a winning smile. “Works for me.” When I earlier asked him if he’d help me decorate the tree, I’d thought he’d respond with a hard no. Instead—wearing the most tortured expression—he’d agreed, the words sounding torn from his soul. I’d offered him an out, but he’d waved it off.
As he ripped open the box, I pulled up a music playlist on my phone. I’d no sooner pressed “play” than he straightened and shot me a flat stare.
“No,” he said.
Much as I’d guessed this would be his reaction, I pushed, “Why not?”
“I’ve agreed to help you with the tree, but I draw the line at listening to holiday music the entire time.”
Cutting off the song, I sniffed. “Fine, Scrooge.”
“I’d rather be Scrooge than a Christmas elf like you.”
A surprised chuckle bubbled up. “My mom is worse than I am, believe it or not.”
“I don’t believe it.”
I snickered. “I’m serious. She turns into a cookie-making monster. Growing up, we had trees in several rooms. She played Christmas tunes throughout most of December. And from the seventeenth to the twenty-fourth, we would watch a holiday movie every night as part of the countdown. Didn’t your family have any traditions?”
“Some. Most were outdoor activities—a parade, a theater show, a market, a food festival, a short skiing trip. Things like that. We did them every December without fail.”
“And they scarred you?” I asked with mock sympathy. “Made it impossible for you to find enjoyment in the holidays as an adult?”
Exasperation flickered across his face. “I don’t dislike Christmas. I simply don’t feel the need to make it the focus of an entire month.”
“Gotcha.” Hiding my amusement, I patted his arm. “Well, don’t worry, I won’t drag you into my plans to attend a Christmas festival or hit an ice rink. Mostly because I want to go with someone who’ll enjoy it—it’s otherwise not as fun.”
He took a long look at the boxed-up decorations. “You have a lot of stuff in here.”
“I’ve collected it all over the years.” I pointed to the nearby shopping bag that I’d retrieved from my reading den a few minutes ago. “Those there are new. I always buy at least three newies each year.”
He selected a glittery red bauble. “The larger ones go on the bottom, the smaller ones go on the top. Yes?”
I grinned. “Clever boy.”
As we hung up ornaments and baubles, I deliberated on what exactly to buy him for Christmas. Whenever I considered it, I came up blank. What did you get for a guy who had pretty much everything he wanted?
Seeing that he was looking at me funny, I leaned my head back slightly. “What?”
“Why are you decorating the back of the tree? No one is going to see it.”
“I’m not going to lumber this beauty with a bald spot. That would just be mean.”