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I looked at my watch. I’d told the subcontractor who’d called earlier that I’d meet him over at the Franklin jobsite to show him all the things his guys had done half ass. But I still had an hour. “I can give you a hand for a little while.”
“Oh gosh, no. You’ve done so much already. I can handle it on my own.”
“I’m here, and it’ll go quicker with two. Plus, having this paper all over the place is a fire hazard. I don’t want my place catching flames from yours.”
Josie smirked. “You don’t fool me, Fox Cassidy. All the excuses you make up can’t hide the fact that you’re a decent guy down deep.”
If she only knew howindecent my thoughts about her were last night…
Rather than debate, I walked over to one of the stacks of newspapers and grabbed two arms full. The delivery guy was finishing offloading the dumpster when I walked outside. I tossed the first heap in while Josie signed the paperwork. After that, we got into a rhythm going back and forth. The sun was blazing hot, so by the third or fourth trip we were both pretty sweaty. Josie’s white tank top clung to her, and every time she lifted her arms to grab a stack of newspapers, she flashed creamy skin that I fantasized about sinking my teeth into.
She wasn’t my type, at least not in the non-physical sense. I liked women who didn’t question why I wasn’t up for talking, women who wanted one thing from me—and it wasn’t to get to know me with my clothes on. Divorcées in their forties fit the bill nicely, preferably ones who were still bitter about men and not ready to find another husband. They also tended to know what they liked in bed and were comfortable making sure they got it. Simple. I liked it that way.
Which Josie was definitelynot. She was the kind searching for something—a fairytale she still believed in. And not the original Grimm ones either.
She reached up to grab another pile of papers, and a bead of sweat slid down the hollow of her back as I walked up behind her. I salivated at the thought of licking the salty drop from her skin. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, at least not until she turned and caught me. I jerked my head, trying to play it off like I hadn’t been staring, and wound up banging into the kitchen table. A box teetered before falling to the floor. I tried to grab it but missed, and the top popped off as it landed on its side. Some of the contents sprayed across the kitchen.
“Shit. Sorry.” I bent down and gathered up the stuff that had fallen out. It looked like a bunch of Christmas cards. Hundreds. “Mrs. Wollman hoarded cards too?”
Josie knelt down and grabbed one that had skated across the room. She added it to the collection in the box. “These are mine actually.”
I felt my eyebrows scrunch up. “You brought a box of used Christmas cards with you from New York?”
“Yes.”
I looked over into the box again. “How many years’ worth you got in here?”
“Just one.”
“People sent you this many cards? I don’t think this many people live in this town.”
She smiled. “Actually, they do. I’m only up to N.”
“Huh?”
Josie placed the lid back on the box and stood with it in her hands. “Nothing.”
I shrugged. “If you say so…”
I went back to relocating newspaper piles to the dumpster. On my second trip, I noticed another card sticking halfway out from underneath the stove. It was open, so when I picked it up, I couldn’t help but see what was written on the inside.
Happy Holidays!
Tom and Renee Dwyer
What the fuck?
Josie came into the kitchen after her latest trip to the dumpster and found me staring at the card.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“The card?”
“Yes…”
She peered over and read the inside. “Oh, Tom and Renee. They’re really nice. They live here in Laurel Lake. Do you know them?”
“You tend to know people when you get engaged to their daughter.”
