The Thief Who Saved Christmas

Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ANABELLE

Saturday, December 22, 3 days before Christmas

Presents purchased for my nice list and stowed in my super secret hiding place that only Ryan knows about: 15

It’s Saturday morning, three days before Christmas, and my whole body feels like it’s buzzing. This is always my favorite time of the year, and this year it’s so much better and bigger, because Ryan, Joe, Cynthia, Jeremy, and I will be spending Christmas together! Cynthia and Jeremy both have family in town, but Jeremy’s parents are divorced and fighting, so he says he has the perfect excuse to avoid them. Cynthia told me privately that while her mother is overjoyed that she “finally” has a serious boyfriend, her father isn’t that pleased that it’s a “doofus who plays the trumpet in a marching band.” So she’s going to be with us too.

My parents asked me to join them for Christmas dinner, but my father made a point of saying that Ryan is not welcome…and also that I should really hear Weston out. They’ve been talking, and he’s certain Weston still cares about both me and the inn, and wouldn’t it be much better to date a man who has a thriving career rather than a deadbeat who plays Santa on the weekends? I assured him that it wouldn’t be and brought the conversation to a quick end.

I wasn’t disappointed, because I hadn’t really expected any different. My father clearly sees Weston as the son he never had, whereas I’m the daughter he’ll never understand. On the plus side, his attitude made me feel much less guilty about my decision not to come home for Christmas.

Another upside: Ryan is cooking for everyone!

We’re even doing a Secret Santa gift exchange, in addition to the presents I have of course purchased for everyone. I drew Joe for the exchange, and I’m going to give him the tea towel that he once yelled at Ryan not to use. It has a lovely circular feeling to it.

In addition, everything is going very well at the B&B. One couple did cancel because “Christmas is a commercial and oversaturated holiday,” but their room was instantly snapped up by a delightful man named Stanley, who has already done the scavenger hunt twice. Ryan pointed out that his second hunt was pointless since we only move the Santas when he gets bored and wants to change things up, but I admire Stanley’s enthusiasm.

At Ryan’s suggestion, we’ve started offering a daily activity in addition to Hot Chocolate Happy Hour. A mounted whiteboard by the front door advertises the day’s activity and Hot Chocolate Happy Hour, and there’s a box of flyers directly underneath it containing the information and rules for the Santa Scavenger Hunt. Anyone who completes it successfully gets a chocolate bar.

Yesterday, Ryan led a cookie baking session, and the previous day, Jeremy and Cynthia talked about working as historical interpreters and gave everyone a tour. Today, Joe and I are going to bring a few guests to an estate sale—with Ryan, of course, both because he’s basically indispensable to me at this point and he’s much better at reading a crowd than either of us.

Admittedly, most people likely wouldn’t call a group of five guests a crowd, but it can certainly feel that way.

On the whole, life is looking pretty bright right now. But there’s something that’s been on my mind, and I’m in the kitchen with Cynthia while she prepares waffles, trying to figure out a way to talk to her about it.

“So…” I say, watching her cut some unseasonable and dry-looking strawberries.

She shakes her head and smiles. “I’ve tried, really I have. But I still can’t read your mind, Anabelle.”

More’s the pity.

Sighing, I fuss with the little wreath tea rack I ordered a week ago. I’ve been slowly replacing some of Grandma Edith’s old things. Each time I feel a pang of guilt, but I can’t deny that it feels good to take ownership of the inn. Ryan keeps telling me that’s exactly what she wanted—for me to be strong and independent and happy —and I’m starting to believe him.

“Well?” Cynthia prompts, pulling me back to the present.

“I was just wondering how…you know…how you let Jeremy know you were ready to take the next step.”

I know that they have. She came in the morning afterward looking like she’d just been given a million-dollar lottery ticket and told me, speaking much too loudly, that it might be harder to go down on a big-dicked man, but it sure made it worthwhile when you were…well…sleeping with him.

“You mean anal?” she asks now.

“No!”

Oops, that came out too loud. I check the door for eavesdroppers and then whisper, “No, I mean…just…you know, regular sex.”

Her eyes go wide and she drops the knife. “You haven’t had sex with Ryan yet? He spends almost every night in your room. I’ve been wondering when you’re going to have him move in so you’re not wasting a perfectly good room that could go to a paying guest.”

I blush furiously and check the door again. There’s no sign of Ryan or anyone else, thank goodness.

“We have…” I glance at the door again, “done things.”

Cynthia rolls her eyes but smiles.

“A lot of things,” I continue.

“Yes, I’m well aware that you’ve sucked his dick.”

I wrinkle my nose. “But he doesn’t seem to understand that I’m ready for . . .” I wave my hand in circles.

“A hot dick injection.”

I groan. “You delight in embarrassing me.”

She gives me a fond smile. “Absolutely.” Then she turns from the counter to face me and picks up her coffee, taking a big sip. “So he’s not giving you the dick. Do you have any idea why?”

I’m still embarrassed, but I would also like to get to the bottom of this. “Not really. He seems to…he definitely would like to. I can…you know…tell, and he’s been making his workouts even longer in the morning. The internet tells me that’s a sign of sexual frustration. But there’s something holding him back from taking things further.”

“He’s worried about Weston,” she says thoughtfully.

My mouth puckers at the mention of his name. Now that I’m with Ryan, who treats me like I matter and listens to me and touches me like he’s the luckiest man on earth because I want him to, I realize that Weston never cared about me. I, most certainly, never cared about him. The only thing he liked about me was his ability to talk me into doing and saying what suited him. The only thing I liked about him was his disinterest in involving himself in my hobbies.

I want to believe that Weston no longer cares about me or the B&B. I actually saw him from a distance the other day when I was at the grocery store. He didn’t attempt to approach me, even though I was alone. Surely that’s a sign that he no longer cares…

“Yes,” I agree. “And Ryan still hasn’t told me everything about his past. I think he’s worried I’ll judge him or throw him out.”

I would never do that. I know Ryan’s a good man, no matter what he did or was involved in. He’s shown it to me, my friends, my guests, and even my cat every single day he’s been here. He’s taken over my heart so thoroughly, there’s no piece of it left that doesn’t contain an echo of him.

“So maybe tell him you won’t judge him,” she says. “Or you can also give him a big, wrapped box of condoms. That would work too.”

I smile at her, feeling a deep fondness. My friendship with Cynthia has evolved so much over the past month. And with Joe too. Ryan was the catalyst. I don’t think he realizes how much he’s brought us all together.

So tell him , a voice in my head insists.

“I want it to happen tonight,” I say, my voice quavering slightly.

She gives me an unimpressed look.

“It’s going to happen tonight,” I try.

“That’s the spirit.” Cynthia pulls me into a hug. “And I’m going to take you lingerie shopping after my shift later, because there’s no way you’re going to get your seduction on in one of your grandmother’s old nightgowns.”

Little does she know…

The day passes quickly. The estate sale is a huge success, and afterward Cynthia picks me up to go lingerie shopping.

“Are you getting another Mrs. Claus costume?” Ryan asks me before he leaves for work, wagging his eyebrows up and down.

“Something like that,” I say cryptically and give him a very thorough kiss before he goes.

I do choose something like that—a scandalous red satin nightgown edged with lace. Or at least I think it’s scandalous until I see what Cynthia picked out for herself—an outfit that’s made solely of purple straps but covers nothing important.

“What’s the point of wearing anything at all?” I ask when she holds it up for display.

This makes her laugh and give me one of her fond looks, and then we make our purchases. I have run out of time to launder the outfit before wearing it tonight, but at least it came in a sealed package.

It’s six o’clock—a couple of hours before Ryan gets off work—so Cynthia drops me off at the Curio parking lot. It’s stuffed with cars, just like last weekend, and there are still parents coming by with their kids.

I head inside, and Ada nods at me from her position at one of the front registers. She has another two cashiers tonight, and they each have a line of customers to serve.

“Our boy’s doing well,” she tells me, which makes me grin at her, even though she’s already returned her attention to the woman in front of her.

When I get to the back, my usual unicorn blow-up chair is waiting for me, and I smile when I see the little cardboard sign sitting on top of it: Reserved for Ms. Claus.

Ryan sees me sitting down and blows me a kiss, and I feel a swell of emotion inside of me that makes me realize what should probably have been obvious to me already.

I love him.

I love him, and I want all of him.

Tonight.