The Christmas Thief Read Online Free Page B

eyes as intense as ever. “I promise.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    From her sprawled position on the couch, Tasha gazed at the hillside’s arc, its water-color splashed beauty pressed against a baby blue backdrop. No people, no cars, and few man-made structures obstructed her view. Mr. Cho’s place was up on that hill, and another house that she guessed belonged to the speed-walking couple she’d yet to formally meet. A few other houses sprouted here and there, mostly protected by dense woods. After meeting some of Marc’s crew, she wondered if any of them might live up there as well.
    The bowl in her lap sat empty. After scraping her deck all day, she’d had only enough energy left to mix together granola and milk and eat it up for dinner. Actually, she had mustered enough energy to have seconds. Her mind began to float away to that place where everything was familiar, yet made no sense at all—the savasana of her day. Heaven. That’s what this day had been like. No workers next door ... transformation of her own home taking place ... the rhythmic splash of incoming waves. Yes, heaven. As slumber settled in, a rap on her door jarred her back to reality.
    She padded to the door, socks sagging around her ankles. “Yes?” she said, dazed.
    Marc stood beyond the glass, his face peering at her from beneath his wide-brimmed hat.
    Tasha shook the fog from her brain and opened the door. “Did you come for your paint scraper?”
    He shook his head and pointed toward the sky. “The rain’s coming,” he boomed above the growling of the wind. “You’ll need to cover your deck.”
    Tasha opened the door wider to let him in. She spied a pair of beat up sneakers in the corner and slid her feet into them. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.
    “I’ve had plenty of work days spoiled by rain clouds. Here.” He handed her one end of the plastic and swiftly walked backward, unrolling a large sheet onto her bare living room floor. Using a utility knife, he slit a section from the roll and gathered it into a bundle.
    Plops of water descended from the ominous clouds. Tasha jogged behind Marc as he hurried out to her back deck and began spreading the tarp across the scraped-clean wood. The felt of his hat caught drops with each move.
    Water droplets tap danced on the sheeting while Marc and Tasha worked together to flatten the plastic and staple the corners to each deck post. Soon the rain turned into a stampede as it hit the deck, drenching everything she’d left out—tools, snack remnants ... everything.
    Huddling beneath the eaves, Tasha wrapped her arms around herself, pulling the extra-long fabric of her sleeves in close. She stared at the wind-driven rain as it soaked its way into the trenches Marc’s crew had so neatly dug into the ground for footings, and threw a questioning glance his way.
    He took it all in, then quirked his mouth to one side in a rueful smile. “Just a slight diversion, is all.”
    She tilted her head up at him. “Thanks for saving my deck. You’d better get back to your truck before you drown.”
    He leaned one steady arm up against the wall of her cabin, creating another protected place for her. He slid a gaze into her home through the window on the deck. “I have a confession to make,” he said, swinging his gaze back to her.
    Tasha narrowed her eyes at him, silently chiding herself for letting her guard down so easily.
    “I looked at this place before you bought it, so I have a pretty good idea about what its needs are ...”
    “And you don’t think I can handle it.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “You didn’t have to.” She pushed herself away from the wall and out from under his not-so-faint protection. “I might not be a big strong he-man like you, but I can handle the renovations that my tiny home needs. I’m not as fragile as I look.”
    His brilliant smile against his five o’clock shadow lit up