Page 72 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Dear God,” I mutter just as Cole walks up to us…wearing a T-shirt and jeans. What kind of thick-as-shit skin does that man have if he can walk around in a T-shirt in this weather?
“Hey, neighbors.” He waves. That stupid sash we have to wear—which I’m not currently wearing—is draped across his chest. “How’s it going?” He stands right at the base of our porch, smiling and looking far too pleased.
My eyes narrow at him as I attempt to give him my most menacing glare. “Excuse me. Please remove yourself from the premises, as we don’t want our enemy scoping out the competition.”
He looks around, making a real show of it. “What competition?”
What an inflated ass.
“I will have you know we’re well on our way to executing a brilliant light display that will make your retinas burn with its brightness.”
He nods. “Really looks like it. I can’t wait to see how these twenty boxes of lights will look on this little side of the porch.”
I glance down at the lights and then back at him. Will this not be enough? Twenty boxes seemed like a lot, and Taran did the calculations, right? “Well, that’s…uh…that’s not all we have. We have a lot more.”
“Twenty’s all we will need,” Taran says from where she’s still measuring, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrates.
“Twenty, huh?” Cole rocks on his heels. “Really going to burn those retinas then. I’ll be sure to wear my sunglasses whenever I walk by.”
Growing very frustrated, I drop the lights, stomp off the porch, andwalk right up to him. “You’ve got a real bad attitude, you know that?” I point at his chest.
He grins. He towers over me as I attempt intimidation, but it doesn’t seem to work on him. “Bad attitude? Oh no, I’m truly excited to see this light display you guys have planned. I can already tell it’s going to be something magical.”
“I know sarcasm when I hear it,” I say, just as a family walks down the sidewalk toward us. Morphing my face into the epitome of Christmas joy, I smile at them and wave. “Good afternoon. Merry Christmas.”
The family ignores me, crosses the street, and heads up the sidewalk to what I’m going to assume is their house.
“Well, that was rude,” I say.
“No, seemed on par,” Cole says.
“What do you mean?”
“That was the Dankworths. They own Baubles and Wrappings, and last I heard”—he snidely smirks—“they’re still mad at you for tipping over their signature tree.”
“Oh my God,” I say. “That was an accident. Over ten years ago. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’d never tip over a tree on purpose or even know how to tip over a tree.” Why do people in this town hold grudges for so damn long, anyway?
“Running into it at full speed got the job done.”
My expression falls flat as I quietly say, “You weren’t even there; how would you know?”
“I live in this town, Storee. I know everything.”
“Oh yeah?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Then did you know I despise you?”
“Was clued in from the spittle bubble on your lower lip.”
I quickly wipe at my lips and then lift my chin, which of course makes him laugh. “You know, when I first saw you, I thought it might be nice to reconnect since I’d be here for a few weeks, but boy oh boy, was I wrong.”
“You were incredibly wrong,” he says.
“Clearly.” I look him up and down. “Also, using your body as a weapon to win a competition…don’t you think that’s a little beneath you?”
“Not asbeneath youas using your aunt’s injury to convince the town she’s on her deathbed.”
I let out a strangled gasp. “How dare you imply—”
“Cut the shit, Storee. We know what you’re doing, and it might work on some, but it won’t work on everyone.”
