How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,58
don’t really remember much of her. I remember a birthday party at the trailer park, I must have been three. I got some kind of riding toy, I was riding it around outside and she was there. Then I remember when I was four and I thought we were just going to Grandma’s house for a visit. I was standing up on her recliner even though I wasn’t supposed to, perusing a built-in shelf full of movies. My mom opened the sliding door and looked back at me, but she didn’t say anything. I thought she just left something in the car and she’d be right back, but she didn’t come back. She left.” I run my finger along the rim of a basket brimming with wrapped candies as we pass it. “Didn’t even give me a hug goodbye.”
I’m taken off-guard when Jasper’s hand closes around my bicep and he yanks me into his arms, wrapping his around me. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
My heart skitters, but my insides warm as I wrap my arms around him and burrow into his chest. “I’m okay now, but I never turn down hugs.”
Jasper’s chest rumbles beneath me as he chuckles fondly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I smile into his chest, even though he can’t see it. Squeezing him a little tighter, I say, “Thank you.”
We stand there like that for a minute, just holding each other in the middle of the sweet shop.
I finally open my eyes and notice someone walking around us, eyeing me strangely, so I take a reluctant step back and look up at him. “We should probably pick out something for your mom now.”
He seems no more excited about it than I would be trying to buy something for my mother, but we get back to shopping, anyway.
We end up grabbing a box of assorted truffles for Audra, and some pretzel rods dipped in chocolate for Arlo. When we were making cookies earlier, he asked if we were going to make those this year, so I assume he was hoping we would. Audra said no and turned it into yet another reason to complain, muttering about how there was no point making a lot of sweets when so many people didn’t even bother to show up.
Arlo did, though, and none of his holiday favorites seem to be on the menu.
“Can we make one more stop before we go home?”
“Where did you need to go?”
“The grocery store. I need to pick up a few ingredients.”
Jasper looks over at me with a frown. “For what?”
I smile back. “The rest of Uncle Arlo’s Christmas present.”
As Jasper ushers me down a flight of stairs, I can’t help but to think this is a very odd location for a grocery store.
When we step inside a place lit mostly by freestanding lamps and candles on tables, it feels like we’ve stepped into a forbidden, prohibition-era bar in the 1920’s instead of anyplace in a modern day Stillwater.
Striped wallpaper makes it feel a little like a hidden room in someone’s lavish home, while the exposed brick along one wall gives it the feel of some secret cellar in a big city. There are plush velvet U-shaped booths, a well-stocked bar, a couple chandeliers hanging overhead, and exposed pipes on the ceiling, adding to the vibe of this being a hidden, romantic spot.
“Is this… a speakeasy?” I ask, looking around.
Jasper places a hand at the small of my back and gently moves me forward. “It sure is.”
I am in awe. I’ve never been to one before. While I might’ve expected Chicago to have a speakeasy or two since it’s a bigger city, I never would have expected a small town like Stillwater to have something like this.
“It’s official. This is the best town in the world,” I announce.
“I don’t know about you, but I sure could use a drink.” He keeps his hand at the small of my back, keeps me close like he needs to look out for me as he scopes out the room.
I get the same vibe I got back at the completely harmless Norwegian bakery we were in, only here, it hits differently. In this dark, romantic setting, with a man I am fairly certain works for the mob…
It’s a little sexy. My heart skips a beat, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. Jasper fits in at a place like this. I know there’s no real danger here, not in Stillwater, but if we were in his city…