The Christmas Thief (10 page)

“Ha. Well, thanks for that.” She made no attempt to force the sarcasm out of her tone. “Phew. Now I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Glad I could help.”

“What’re you doing here, Marc?”

He took a step toward her, his own strong arm finding the top of a dining room chair. “I heard about Jeremy.”

She relaxed. “Yeah. Hard day at camp. The director was AWOL today, but nobody blames him.”

“And you? How are you handling it?”

“Me? Well ... I’m fine ... why do you ask?”

His dark eyes zeroed in on her. “It seemed like you and Jeremy were pretty ... close.”

Tasha laughed. Hard. “What? Wait ... because he helped me with a few boxes yesterday, you think I’m upset over his elopement?”

“You were flirting with him.”

She frowned. “You have got to be kidding me.” She shook her head. “If there’s nothing else, Marc, I’m tired and I’d like to relax a bit, so—”

“If you and Jeremy weren’t seeing each other, then may I ask, who sent the flowers?” He nodded toward the wilted bouquet on the table.

“Is that what all this questioning is about?” She crossed her arms, her laughter without much mirth. “You think Jeremy sent me flowers, and then ran off with the boss’s daughter? Man, that
would
have made me a little testy.”

He rubbed his face, his hand scraping across stubble. For the first time, the confidence in his eyes wavered. She kind of enjoyed seeing that. “I suppose I misjudged the situation,” he said.

“I suppose you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Marc? Why do you care who sent me the flowers? Or if Jeremy and I had a thing going? Aren’t I the enemy?”

He shook his head. “I thought I already ... no. No, I don’t think you’re a criminal, Tasha.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re really not going to let me get off the hook easily, are you?”

“No.” His dark eyes turned into pools of sadness and she sighed, exasperated. “Sit down,” she said, pointing to a seat at the end of the table. As he took a seat, she did too. “The roses are from my ex.”

He listened and nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Roger called off our wedding less than two days before we were to walk down the aisle.”

“Oh, Tasha.”

She waved a hand at him. “It was hard at first. Very hard. But I moved here to start fresh in this beautiful place, even though the house does need a ton of work. I figured the peace and quiet would be good for me ...”

“And then I showed up with my work crew.”

“Right. Well, best laid plans and all of that.” She idly splayed her left hand on the table. He reached for it and she darted a look at him.

“You know you drive me crazy, don’t you?” For once, she couldn’t say a thing. He kept holding her hand and staring at her. “I just have one question,” he said, his voice a dark whisper.

She quirked her head, waiting.

“Do you want him back?”

~~~

Early the next morning, Tasha slipped out the door, coffee in hand, and settled on a cushioned seat on the small patio on the front side of her cabin, the one overlooking the street and the sea beyond it. The eastern sunrise cast a red and yellow glow across the sky, but nothing about the water looked amiss. The waves appeared calm today, with only an occasional slosh against the cliff’s edge. She took a sip of her hot coffee. Marc had asked her a question last night, and though she knew the answer deep in her heart, she hadn’t divulged it fully to him.

Now as she sat here contemplating the day, she wondered why. As it was, they spent the evening talking just about everything else—trivial to significant—in their lives. He had expressed his sympathy for her broken heart, and she in turn had felt her chest clench more than once when he told her that he’d lost both of his parents before he’d turned eighteen.

No wonder he had such a soft spot for Andy and the other crew members.

“We need to get a move on!” Helena huffed her way along the road, her tiny hands rolled into even smaller fists.

Jim trailed behind, his pet beagle coughing and straining forward. “For once in your life, woman, stop trying to control everything!”

Tasha shrank back in her chair as if she were about to be caught eavesdropping. Again. Kind of unfair, considering she’d spent far less time on this patio than she imagined she would.

“Well, hullo, Miss Tasha!” Mr. Cho drew up behind Jim, Courtney prancing along beside him.

The morning had become a regular neighbor brigade. She waved to Mr. Cho from her perch, causing Jim to swivel a look at her. His scowl morphed into a smile. After they moved on, a truck pulled up in front of Marc’s lot, followed by another.

With one last glance out to sea, Tasha drained her coffee cup. She took the activity around her as a sign that it was time to get to work.

~~~

After another long day’s work, Tasha stepped out of her car and lingered by the edge of the road. A crew of four guys including Marc were ogling their day’s progress. She knew this day was coming, the day she would arrive home to find cement poured and curing. With winter on its way, she’d actually believed that this part of the project would have already been done. Of course, that was before a variety of questionable activities had slowed the process.

Tasha assessed the gray geometric pattern that served as a base for a soon-to-be home, noting the way the immense pine skirted the home’s foundation from a respectful distance. She knew that it had to go, and again, had thought the deed would already have been done by now. After a few breezy more minutes, Tasha emerged from her discreet watching place beside her car. She hiked her bag over one shoulder and made her way to her cabin, not immediately noticing that a visitor waited with his back against the wall of her home.

Roger.

His hair was the same sandy brown she’d remembered, only less architectural. The angles had been replaced by length and wisps that reached his collar, the effect startling and different, as if he were ... someone else.

“I’ve missed you,” was all he said.

Tasha sensed eyes from the crew next door on her. Their chatter stilled. She darted a look to her porch out front, then to the back deck, before releasing a breath and giving up. “Come inside,” she said, and unlocked the door to her home.

He wandered in behind her like a puppy dog who had been swatted with a rolled up newspaper after leaving his master a “present” on the living room carpet.

Inside, Tasha dropped her bag and pivoted. She wanted to look at him full force, but also to leave plenty of space between them. He could always make her heart race, especially in the beginning, but her pulse was barely a whisper above its norm right now. And that was probably because she was simply tired and hungry. And annoyed.

“What are you doing here, Roger?”

He reached out to her. “I wish you would call me Rog like you always used to.”

She waited.

He moved closer.

“Roger, I can’t ...”

He rubbed his hands up the length of her arms, settling them on her shoulders. “Ssh. Baby, please. We’ve got all night to talk. Okay?” He chucked a finger under her chin so he could smile into her face.

“I received word that you were missing.”

His face brightened. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me?”

She shook her head. “No, I ...”

He put a forefinger to her lips, and kissed her forehead before drawing back. “You watching out for me is the best news I’ve heard all day. I couldn’t go on in that dreary office without you there. None of those women get me, you know?”

“Well, with all due respect”—she gently pulled herself out of Roger’s embrace—“you aren’t engaged to any of those women.”

“About that. Maybe I was too hasty ...”

An hour later, Tasha stood on her deck, taking in the wide expanse of canyon and mountain behind her house, the moon’s glow casting it all in a shimmery haze. If she turned just so, she could take in all the activity and celebration going on next door, and though she no longer cared to vilify Marc and his crew, she decided that perhaps it was time to erect a fence between their properties. Nothing offensively airtight, but something that could be a visual divide between their two homes. He would have his privacy and she would have hers—something she desperately needed right now.

“Knock, knock.”

She closed her eyes, stifling a sigh. “Come on in, Marc,” she said, without turning around. Her eyes were still closed.

His boots resounded on the deck. “Your visitor ran out of here in a hurry.”

Tasha allowed her eyes to flutter open. She turned to him. “You are observant.”

“Glad that’s all you called me.” He smiled.

“Can I ask you a question, neighbor?”

“Shoot.”

“The tree.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms, and leaned them on the deck railing in front of her. “I noticed that you finally were able to lay the foundation to your home today. It’s lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you. Andy and I poured it, but Bill and a couple other guys finished it for us. Pretty soon we’ll be snappin’ lies and framing it up.”

She nodded, trying to picture that. “I was wondering when ... when you’re planning to take down that old tree.”

He moved closer to her, leaning strong arms on the deck railing, their shoulders lightly brushing. He tilted a look down at her, his eyes peering out from beneath his hat, searching her face. “It’s Christmas. I thought we could all decorate her for the holidays. The guys are already fighting over who’ll shimmy up her branches to string the lights.” He swung a look back toward the canyon. “There’ll be plenty of time to remove it later.”

She nodded. “I see.”

“My turn to ask you a question.”

“Didn’t realize we were taking turns, but all right.”

“Was that your ex fiancé I saw running out of here?”

“It was.”

“Is he still your ex?”

“Yes.”

He paused, allowing her answer to sit there in the silence between them. Finally, he asked, “Will he be back?”

She turned her chin toward him, realizing for the first time how powerfully close they stood. “Never,” she whispered.

Gently, he placed a hand over hers on the deck railing, massaging her fingers with his thumb. “Good,” he said into the night. “That’s really good to know.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Christmas would be here soon. Even if she hadn’t had a calendar hanging in her hall, or a schedule to keep at the camp, Tasha would have known simply by the shorter days and advent of scents, not to mention that appearance of lighted reindeer and crèche scenes on the occupied homes in Cottage Grove.

It was Saturday, and she and Wolfy were hiking along the same ridge that she had driven to a week earlier. Just as she thought, the views from the land high above hers were stunning. Wolfy strained against the leash. “Hold on a second, little guy.” She pointed across the canyon. “See that over there? That’s Marc’s lot, and there’s ours. And over our rooftop, you can see the ocean!” Wolfy continued his staccato sniffing, as if much more interested in whatever was under all those needles and pine cones, rather than across the expanse that led to their home.

When they returned from their hike, it was nearly dusk and the roads were empty, so Tasha let Wolfy off his leash. He sprinted up the gradual incline and leaped up to Marc, who stood on his home’s new foundation wearing a jovial smile on his face, like a kid with his first motorcycle. Marc squatted to give Wolfy a thorough rubdown, including allowing her less-than-vicious pet to nibble on his hands.

He stood when she approached, that smile still on his mug, his eyes crinkling at their corners. “Hi, there,” he said.

“Hi, yourself.” She examined his wavy locks of black hair. “No hat today. To what do I owe this formal occasion?”

“Time for new things.” He paused. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

She quirked her head to the side, still looking up at him. “You been stalking me, Mr. Shepherd?”

Something playful passed across his face and he smiled wide. “I have something for you.”

A ripple ran through her, followed by heat to her cheeks. If ever a question existed of whether she was over Roger, she’d found her answer. Marc reached down toward her. “Take my hand.”

Her eyes flitted to his hand, roughened from years of work out in the elements. She took it and allowed Marc to pull her up to the foundation of his new home. “Let me show you around.” He put one hand gently on her upper back and pointed out the various “rooms” in his soon-to-be house. Three lower-floor bedrooms and two baths took up more square footage than her living room, kitchen, and hall combined. A spiral staircase would eventually lead to a great room large enough for a dining room table, office with a view of the ocean, and living area. Off that would be a spacious kitchen with double skylights and room for a big, fat chopping block.