Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
“Oh, boy. That’s great news,” Joe deadpanned.
Helen nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! And of course, you’re invited to the Bingo with Blitzen Bizarre too, Mr. Warren. The whole town shows up for games and prizes and a sing-along. And Joe here is Santa. He gripes, but he secretly loves it.”
I bit my cheek to keep from laughing at the comically pained face he pulled behind his mom’s back. “It sounds like fun. Thanks for the invitation.”
“It’s at the Elks’ Lodge this year. We moved it from the rec center by Bonsai Hill. Their toilets are still clogged. Joe’ll point you in the right direction. So very nice to meet you. A real honor!” She beamed at me and pulled her son closer for another hug before wagging a finger at his chest. “Call your mother!”
And then she was gone.
Joe wrinkled his forehead and bit his lower lip, managing to look mildly amused and embarrassed at the same time.
I smiled indulgently. “I like her.”
“She’s pretty cool, but like I said, she’s nosy as fuck. It doesn’t matter how often I tell her to text, she always leaves voice messages. And it’s your fault I didn’t check them regularly,” he groused.
I pointed at my chest. “My fault?”
“Yeah, I’ve been distracted. I should have checked in on her.”
“She seems fine. And she seems excited about Santa showing up at bingo,” I singsonged, chuckling when Joe flipped me off. “What time? I need to mark that in my calendar.”
“You’re a fuckin’ comedian.”
I moved into his space and nuzzled his neck. “Bonsai Hill? Is that where you went sledding without a shirt?”
“Geez, you have a good memory. Yeah, that’s the place. And in my defense, I was a stupid teenager.”
“And now look at you.” I cupped his ass and licked his earlobe. Joe countered by slobbering my cheek, laughing like a loon when I glared at him. “What was that for?”
“Just wanted to stop you before you made any smartass Santa comments.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Right.” He picked a random tool from his apron and pointed it toward my office. “I should get to work. Unless…you feel like doing something else?”
I nodded automatically and tugged my sweater over my head. “Definitely.”
“Hold up. I think you’re going to want more clothes, not less, for this one. Want to go sledding?”
“Sledding?” I repeated.
Joe gave a shy half smile. “Yeah. You’ve never been and the hill is kind of pretty. It sits above the town next to the cemetery. If you’re feeling extra creepy, we can hunt for Margaret O’Toole’s grave too. What d’ya say?”
Did I want to go sledding? No. Did I want to traipse around a cemetery on a cold December afternoon? Also no. I wanted to lock the door and race upstairs to do naughty things with him.
But that smile got me. It was teasing yet earnest. Something told me it was a big deal for him to open up and show me something on his own. I was touched.
I mean, it sounded cold and decidedly unsexy, but sweet too.
“Let’s go.”
7
Joe
Bonsai Hill wasn’t a steep hill by most standards, but it had a nice drop at the top and if you gathered enough speed, you’d have to navigate through a copse of evergreens at the bottom. Slower sledders had the option of stopping beforehand, but I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t barreled down the slope, screaming “Banzai!” at the top of my lungs.
“I thought that was where the hill got its name when I was a kid,” I explained as I tugged my gloves on. “I didn’t realize a bonsai, spelled with an s instead of a z, was an actual tree until someone gave my fourth-grade teacher one for Christmas. She said it wasn’t doing well at home and she thought our cheerful voices would bring it joy…or something corny like that.”
Cam chuckled, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. He might look like a bear, but his California was showing, big time. He’d thank me later for insisting on stopping by my house to grab him a warmer jacket and some gloves worth a damn. I’d had to stop for the sled anyway, and I had a feeling he was probably curious about where I lived. I spent so much time over the past couple of weeks at his house that he probably wondered if there was something wrong with my place…like bad heating or broken windows or something.
He hadn’t bothered keeping his surprise in check when I pulled in front of the one-story brick bungalow hidden from the street behind a giant elm. It was small for sure, but I was rather proud of it. I’d painstakingly brought it back from near ruin through a series of renovations over the past four years. I’d pointed out the refinished flooring, the cabinetry in my kitchen, and the mantel over the fireplace.