The Christmas Thief by Julie Carobini Page A

disheveled hair up into a bun, then let go, allowing it to cascade down her back. She cut a wary glance at the flowers. She had to admit—they were gorgeous. Fresh and lovely. She knew that she was allowing her past to color her view. Part of her still wanted to drop them in the garbage pail, but another part wanted to give them a home that would appreciate it.
    Decision made, she got up, turned off the light, and padded down the hallway toward bed.
    ~~~
    The next day after work, Tasha drove back home, those ridiculous roses still strapped into the front passenger seat of her small SUV. Three of the baker’s dozen were already drooping hopelessly, a reminder of her engagement to her ex-fiancé—weak and short-lived.
    “What’re you doing with those?” Lorena had asked that morning, her face marred with stress lines. Tasha had just arrived and had schlepped the large bouquet up the back steps, thinking they’d brighten up the dreary cafeteria. She had hoped that by now they would have hauled out holiday decor and decked the halls. But they’d been shorthanded, and besides, she’d heard that most of the decorations had turned up moldy after being stored in a leaky closet all year.
    “Just a little something to brighten up the cafe,” she said. “Why? What’s wrong?”
    Lorena bit her top lip. “You haven’t heard, I guess.”
    “Heard what?”
    She sighed. “Oh, it’s a mess, really it is. Sit down and I’ll make us some coffee.”
    And that was when she learned that Jeremy had run off and married the camp director’s daughter—without anyone’s blessing. He was thirty-two, and she was only eighteen.
    She pulled up next to the edge of her property, and released an exhausted sigh. The day had been long, and by the looks of things on her neighbor’s property, the night could be longer. Marc had a full house over there. A fire had already been lit. Next thing you know there’d be the mingling aromas of marinades and marbled meat wafting through the trees.
    Before she could turn the key in the lock of her front door, Marc was there to greet her. “Can we talk?”
    She glanced at the revelry going on next door. A girl was hanging on Andy’s arm ... the girl with the truck. Tasha eyed Marc, not sure she felt like dealing with anymore drama tonight. She huffed and clicked open her door. “I guess,” she said, as he followed her inside.
    Tasha set the flowers back onto the table, along with her keys and bag. She didn’t remove her coat. Instead, she swiveled around to face Marc, her hand leaning on a dining chair. “What did you want to talk about?”
    His face filled with concern, his brows lowered. “Are you okay?”
    She tilted her head slightly. “You mean about your near accusation the other day?”
    He stared at her, recognition lighting his eyes. “I thought you knew that ... surely, you know that I don’t think you’re guilty of any wrongdoing.”
    “Ha. Well, thanks for that.” She made no attempt to force the sarcasm out of her tone. “Phew. Now I’ll be able to sleep.”
    “Glad I could help.”
    “What’re you doing here, Marc?”
    He took a step toward her, his own strong arm finding the top of a dining room chair. “I heard about Jeremy.”
    She relaxed. “Yeah. Hard day at camp. The director was AWOL today, but nobody blames him.”
    “And you? How are you handling it?”
    “Me? Well ... I’m fine ... why do you ask?”
    His dark eyes zeroed in on her. “It seemed like you and Jeremy were pretty ... close.”
    Tasha laughed. Hard. “What? Wait ... because he helped me with a few boxes yesterday, you think I’m upset over his elopement?”
    “You were flirting with him.”
    She frowned. “You have got to be kidding me.” She shook her head. “If there’s nothing else, Marc, I’m tired and I’d like to relax a bit, so—”
    “If you and Jeremy weren’t seeing each other, then may I ask, who sent the flowers?” He nodded toward the wilted bouquet on the