Matchmaking a Grump by Casella Angela & Grover Swank Denise

Author:Casella, Angela & Grover Swank, Denise
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781940562674
Publisher: Laughing Heart Press
Published: 2022-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

Kennedy’s eyes light up when I shove the cookie at her. “Here, it’s for you.”

“I love it,” she says as I shut the door behind me.

“Let’s not make a big deal out of it,” I say, even as my eyes catch on the Christmas tree she has displayed in front of the closed window. I like that she has it up, although she probably loves it because it makes her think of Christmas, not because it makes her think of the man who got it for her on an impulse he didn’t fully understand. “I didn’t bake them.”

Her lips twitch with amusement. “I didn’t assume you had. But I’m no less grateful. I love Christmas cookies.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She’s wearing that damn Christmas tree farm shirt again, which makes me remember, with a pulse of regret, that I lost mine. This time it’s paired with yoga pants, probably because there’s a cold bite in the air. Ray’s Weather Center says there’ll be snow this weekend, or early next week at the latest, and Ray knows his shit.

“Is that the only thing you have that’s not an overpriced gown?”

“One of the only things,” she says with a slight smile. “I also have a ridiculous equestrian outfit that I think you would have enjoyed very much.” Her nose wrinkles. “The horse smell was less enjoyable.”

She looks down at the cookie and then lifts it for a bite, her full lips closing around it. Santa’s one lucky man to be consumed by her. And there’s your proof that falling for a woman can make you lose your ever-loving mind.

“Where’d Harry look in your room?” I ask.

“Everywhere,” she says. “He was pretty thorough.”

“We’ll be more thorough.”

We start by the bedroom door and work inward from there. I can already tell it’s going to take a while with all the crap arranged around the room. The Labelles really have a thing for collecting dust in a variety of different ways. I move one piece of junk, then another. There are no listening devices or cameras, or at least none I can see. Kennedy trails me with the cookie.

“You’re good at this,” she says. “Look for bugs often?”

“No,” I say. “But it’s not the first time. I told you I’m a handyman. One time, this woman had me check her house for bugs because she thought her husband was trying to spy on her. They were going through a divorce.”

“Was he?” she asks.

She must be interested in the story, because she hasn’t taken another bite. It’s sort of…well, it’s cute.

“I didn’t find anything. So either he wasn’t as much of a shit as she thought, or I really suck at finding these things.” I smile at her. “Let’s hope it was the first.”

She laughs as she checks the area by the window where she’s set up the Christmas tree. Putting in front of the window is a bold choice, but the curtains are thick.

“Why do you like Christmas so much, anyway?” I ask, shooting a glance at her as I continue the search.

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