Page 23 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Great,” I huff out as I take a seat on the chair behind the register and lean my head against the wall. “For the record, I wasn’t trespassing in a creepy way. Just, you know, trying to gather information.”
“Didn’t think you were being creepy.” She tries to hold back her smile, but I can see right through her. “For what it’s worth, it looks like you went through hell to trespass.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want people thinking, that I went through hell to trespass.” I groan. “Please, tell me something other than what happened to me last night. Anything good? Anything of interest?”
“Uh...” She leans against the counter. “The fake flocked trees from Larry Balzak and Company that you said would be a bestseller this season, well, we sold three already today. You were right.”
“I’m usually right about trees,” I say, attempting to pat myself on the back. I need the ego boost after last night’s disaster.
“Oh, and the string popcorn kits you thought were a good idea, I sold a few of those as well.”
“That’s good news.”
“I thought so. Oh, and that girl I was telling you about the other day, the one with the blue eyes and bright blond hair...”
“Vendor girl?” I ask.
Kate nods. “Yup, well, she was back today, but she was asking about something else.”
“She was?” I ask, perking up. “What was she looking for?”
“Asking about our suppliers and who we use.”
“Seriously?” I ask, sitting even taller.
“Yes. She seemed genuinely interested, especially when it came to our decor suppliers. And I remembered her, because... those eyes of hers, seriously, so blue.”
“Did you give her the information?” I ask.
“I mean . . . yeah.” Kate winces.
“What? Why? Kate, she could be a mole.”
“I don’t know. She asked nicely, and I’m sorry, she’s just... she’s hot, and I thought why not?”
“Kate,” I groan, sliding my wrapped hand over my face. “You can’t be giving away information like that. Don’t you see what she’s doing? She’s trying to steal all our information. First itwas the vendors, now our suppliers. What’s next? Our year-end statements?”
“Well, if she did ask for them, I wouldn’t know where to find them, so at least you’re safe with that.”
I stand from the chair. “Is she still here?”
“I think so. I saw her walk off toward the gingerbread house.”
“What is she wearing?”
“Uh . . . a long camel-colored wool jacket.”
“Got it,” I say as I move toward the door.
“Wait, Max, what are you going to do?”
I look over my shoulder and answer, “Protect my farm,” then head out the door.
Betty
It smells delicious in here.
Like actual heaven.
