Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 21003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
“Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I wave goodbye and leave the building, heading to my car only to find a note with one word written on it.
Whore
Well, at least they didn’t key my car. I take my gloved hand and crumple it up before getting inside. I don’t look for the person who left it because there are only two people who could have written the note: Tom or Anne. She left fifteen minutes before me and Tom knows where I work, so he’s the prick who thinks I’m a whore.
I would call the police, but with the sirens blaring, I’m assuming they’re pretty busy. I’m shocked by it, to say the least. After how bad our date went, I thought he’d be grateful to never interact with me again. Maybe this is a one-off message. Before I can debate my feelings on it, my phone rings. It’s my dad. “Hey, Dad, how is it going?”
“Okay, Princess. I was wondering if you planned on coming home for Christmas.”
“No. You know I can’t travel right now. I only have a couple of days off and don’t have the money. Why don’t you and Mom come to see my new home?”
“Sorry, dear. We told you not to buy a house up there. It’s in the middle of nowhere and so far from the city.”
“It’s forty-five minutes to an hour.”
“Between the flight and everything, we wouldn’t be there for very long, and then we’d have to get back because your mom and I have our dance nights.” I nod to myself, lips pressed together. “Besides, we don’t like the cold.” I groan and then pull the phone away from my face before I say something terrible.
“You don’t need to continue with the excuses. Talk to you another time.” I end the call and then finally pull out of my parking space. The plow trucks have gotten the snow cleared, so the trip home is quick and painless. I grab my mail and then enter my house, strip out of my clothes, and shower. The one thing that comes with working with so many animals is that sometimes you smell a little ripe by the end of the day.
Once I’m in my leggings and hoodie, I open my fridge, regretting that I didn’t prep anything to eat. I make a quick chicken salad and then go into the living room to read a book. It’s a cozy mystery novel set in the middle of winter. I try to get into it but I can’t, so I set it down and turn on the television to put on some cheesy small-town holiday romance. I have to turn it off because the guy looks too much like Parker.
I sigh and then look at all my pretty decorations, realizing I have no one to share them with. My heart feels empty as I go around the room touching the white garland.
“Maybe I’ll try the book again,” I mutter to myself. I snag one of my snickerdoodles from the table and walk back to the sofa, only for the doorbell to ring. “Who could be here?”
A part of me hopes that Parker doesn’t give up, even if I know our relationship won’t work. I head to the front door and peek through the side and see it’s a delivery man.
I open the door and smile. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, ma’am. Are you Caroline Cole?”
“Yes.”
“Please sign here.” I sign and accept the delivery. I haven’t ordered anything. Still, I wonder if it’s from my brother overseas.
“Thank you.” He nods and then heads down the stairs into a sleek black SUV. I step inside the house and close the door. Smiling, I look for a name, but there’s no return address. I open the small brown box, and I’m shocked when I read the note.
Day one of learning not to be a Christmas hater
Underneath is another box wrapped in expensive gold holiday paper. I set the brown box on the side table and then sit on the sofa and open the pretty wrapping. A gasp falls from my lips as I stare at the adorable trinkets.
Inside, there are two ornaments: a rose-gold cookie and a matching taco. My smile is so big and wide I think my cheeks are going to burst. I can’t contain my happiness. I hang them on my tree right away. There is no information on who sent them, but I don’t need a name. The tokens inside say it all.
I read the card again and again. He wants to change for me. A man I’ve just met. It seems like total bullshit, but can it be real? The card doesn’t have anything else on it, there is no contact information, and the delivery driver hadn’t said anything else, so maybe Parker will stop by later, at least, so I can thank him for his adorable gifts. I stare as they shine perfectly with the lights.