The Christmas Thief Read Online Free Page A

there. While a handful of boys always seemed to have inexplicably huge appetites, for the most part, they’d still had leftovers to put away and serve to camp staff the next day.
    Tonight? Not so much.
    A car rolled to a stop at the edge of the property. A woman stepped out, leaving the car running and the lights on. Andy stood up with a start and headed over to see her. They huddled together, the boy’s shoulders hunched, his hands deep inside his pockets.
    It was impolite to stare, but the boy seemed agitated. Or maybe he still thought of Tasha as suspect number one. In any case, while Tasha sipped on her hot chocolate—one of the boys had served her some—she also nonchalantly observed Andy and the stranger. On second look, she realized that the woman was actually a young girl. Probably a teen.
    “That’s the one he’s been having trouble with,” Marc said, stumbling into her thoughts.
    She jerked a look at him. Marc was watching Andy with almost fatherly concern. For the first time, Tasha wondered about their relationship. She swung a look at the young couple at the end of the lot. They stood at least a foot apart. Her arms were folded around her middle, he was staring at the road. Really, they looked as if they were miles apart.
    “It’s really for the best that she leaves,” Marc continued. “But he’s still got it bad for her.”
    “You seem to know a lot about what’s going on with them. Are you and Andy related?”
    Marc slid a look at her. “Not by blood. I work with youth over at the church in town. It’s a volunteer thing. Also know the girl’s—Katie’s—father. Another contractor in town. Anyway, Andy’s had it rough with one parent gone and another ...” He stalled before continuing. “Well, another who’s had troubles of her own. I needed an assistant for some of my jobs, so I hired him on.”
    Inwardly, she sighed. She stole another look at him. “That’s noble of you.”
    Marc pulled his gaze away from the couple. “That’s not why I do it.”
    “It doesn’t have to be your reason—it just is.”
    “Well, thank you, I suppose.” He ran a hand through his ebony-colored hair. “Listen, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’d like to show you my plans for the house. If you’re willing.”
    Her eyes drifted from Marc to his friends clustered around the fire, enthusiasm for her own project waning. “I’ll be around tomorrow since it’s Saturday. I can probably spare a few minutes.” Would she be able to paint on a smile that she wasn’t feeling? “I’m hoping it’s a nice enough day to scrape my deck so I can paint it soon.”
    “Good idea. You planning to mix stain in with your paint?”
    “Yup.”
    “Nice. But listen, be sure not to leave the wood bare for long. This area along the coast is known for its sneaker storms, so you’ll want to primer it right away.”
    Tasha groaned audibly. “I know ... I know it’s not much more than a shack, Marc, but really, I can handle the details of fixing it up. Don’t think you need to provide backup or anything.”
    He sat next to her, silent. Surely he was stewing over her gentle rebuke. But he had to know that she’d bought this place with plenty of thought, not to mention money. No one needed to know that she’d borrowed from her retirement account—with a penalty extracted—to buy this overpriced cabin surrounded by trees and water. Because of that, there wasn’t one penny left to pay for outside help. It was all up to her.
    “If you can wait until seven to start, I can bring you my long-handled scraper—that’ll make things move along faster for you. Unless, of course, you already have one.”
    “Marc!”
    He quirked a look at her, his eyes intense enough to burn a hole right through her.
    She turned her chin away, focusing it on the night moon instead. She allowed her breathing to mellow before slowly addressing him again. “Thank you, but please don’t put yourself out.”
    He cracked a smile, those