Page 64 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
I point at her. “That’s the problem. We need to garner attention, not be subtle. If we’re going to beat the naked man twins, then we need to be smart about this. Flashy is the way to go, trust me.”
Winter hat on, scarf secured around my neck, and mittens on, I peer through the knotty fence, trying to see if Cole and Atlas have set anything up in Cole’s backyard. Perhaps a layout of their plan, the untangling of lights, or even the suggestion of a blow-up character, but as I scan around, I find nothing.
Not a fake Santa.
Not a reindeer to be stuck on the roof.
Not even a piece of furniture.
Sheesh.
I move toward the front of the two houses and slip my sunglasses on. Given the amount of sun this town gets despite the winter season, sunglasses are a must—so you don’t burn your retinas from the light rays bouncing off the white snow.
I face Aunt Cindy’s house, pretending to observe it, when in reality, I have my eyes trained to the left, taking in Cole’s house.
It’s similar to Aunt Cindy’s with the intricate architecture, a wraparound porch, and an angled roof that’s covered in snow from the night before—it never ends. Thankfully, Aunt Cindy has a shoveling service that does all the clearing of her sidewalk and driveway for her, or else we’d be out here almost every day.
The chill starts to seep through my jacket and into my bones as I survey his house and think about what he could possibly do.
Lights around the porch rails?
Playful window lights that aren’t just candles like Aunt Cindy likes to do? A lit-up tunnel that runs from the sidewalk and down the path to his house?
Oooh, we should do that. Beat him to it.
I make a mental note.
Each house has black streetlights that resemble old gas lampposts.We could wrap Aunt Cindy’s with some garland and strings of lights as well, and change the color of the bulb…but theme, what kind of theme?
I stare at Cole’s house some more, curious as to what he could be doing—
“Trying to get some ideas?” his deep voice asks from behind me, startling me nearly out of my winter boots.
I adjust my sunglasses, which have shifted down my nose as a result of being scared, and turn around to see him grinning at me, clearly pleased with himself.
“Don’t you have to be at work?” I look him up and down, taking in his worn jeans and simple flannel over a Henley shirt—seems to be the grumpy uniform he wears so very often.
He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I have the day off. Why do you care?”
“I don’t care.”
“Clearly you do, since you asked.”
“Because you startled me, and I didn’t know what else to say,” I counter.
“And why did I startle you? Maybe because you were snooping?”
“I was not snooping,” I say. “I truly have better things to do with my life.”
“Uh-huh, so then why did I see you over by the fence, looking through it and into my backyard?” He grins, knowing damn well he’s caught me.
God, he’s so irritating.
I fold my arms over my chest. “For your information, I saw a bunny and I was invested in seeing if he could escape the hellhole that is your side of the fence.”
“Hellhole?” he asks with a lift of his brow. “That seems a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
“Have you looked in your backyard? There isn’t even a piece of furniture for someone to sit on to observe a bunny’s journey if they wanted to.”
