Read Online The Christmas Thief by Julie Carobini - Free Book Online Page A

very near future. She hated to admit it, but she’d grown cautiously fond of Marc Shepherd and his rag-tag crew, accustomed to their irregular presence on the lot next to hers.
    But how would she feel about them—about Marc—when that big ol’ lug of a tree were toppled like expendable firewood?
    A thick knot formed in her throat. She couldn’t meet Marc’s eyes and instead looked at the toes of her boots. She spun her car keys on her finger.
    Marc took a step backward, giving her space. “Well,” he said, “there’s one more thing I need to bring up, Tasha.”
    The curious way in which he said her name, almost stating it like a question, caused her to force her eyes to find his.
    Her neighbor turned and whistled into the air. Bill jogged over with a wad of fabric under one arm. He gave Tasha a look that was both wary and apologetic, handing the cloth to Marc, and did a one eighty, heading back to his work.
    Tasha squinted and she reached out her arm. “Is that my apron?”
    Marc nodded, his mouth a grim line. He handed it to her and she let it unfold naturally. It was beyond salvaging, with mud caked into its fibers and crevices.
    She quirked a look up at him.
    “Tasha, if there’s something you need to say, well, I wish you would just get on with it.”
    She set her jaw. “Where’d you find it?”
    He let out a sigh. “Andy found it stuffed into one of the grooves.”
    She shot him a look. “Andy did, huh. That’s curious.”
    “Oh, come on—he may not be a friendly kid, but he’s not the kind of person who would—”
    “And you think I am?” she shot back, interrupting him.
    He clamped his mouth shut. She watched the wheels of his mind turn in the changing expressions on his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but it was within herself that she sensed pressure rising. Did he honestly think that she was capable ... that she would do something ... like this?
    Tasha wadded the filthy apron into a ball and shoved it under her arm. “Forget it, Marc. Good luck on your ... on your building project.” She didn’t owe him one more word, and at this moment, she didn’t care if they ever spoke to each other again. Hadn’t she moved to get away from drama? And now he and his young upstart were bringing her more? Worse—she had somehow become a suspect in their troubles. Her!
    Tasha spun away from him, but took only two steps before a welling emotion overtook her. She pivoted back to find Marc still standing there, as if his roots ran as deep as that big tree on his property. “First you come here and start tearing up this lot just feet from my house, spreading your dust and grime everywhere. You tell me you’re going to tear down the biggest asset this piece of property has—during the holidays even—and now you stand here with an accusation lingering in your words.”
    “What would you do if you were me?”
    “Why not start by investigating your own crew?” She pulled out her phone. “Here. Let me do it for you. I’ll just give the local police a call ...”
    He shook his head and reached out to stop her from dialing, but she yanked her hand away. “You were the one who said somebody was watching me. That kid”—she pointed at Andy who she swore had a scowl tattooed on his face—“has never liked me for some reason. So if we’re placing bets, I’m putting all my money on him.”
    “All of it, huh?”
    She shrank back. “I bought this house on my own. Maybe you’re not impressed, but I’m not here to impress you—or anyone. I came here for peace and quiet, and since you showed up, I’ve had none of either.” She regretted that her voice broke—and that the words she’d spewed weren’t exactly one-hundred-percent true.
    Marc stared at her for a beat before shutting his eyes. He ran a rough-skinned hand across the side and back of his neck and blew out a frustrated sigh.
    “Boss?” It was Bill, standing behind him with kind eyes carrying a question.
    Marc nodded. “Right. Let’s