Her Christmas Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #5) - Jessica Clare Page 0,27
don’t know who it is?” Mrs. Lawrence asked her for the third time that Friday.
Amy shook her head. “Everything’s signed Secret Santa.”
“Sure they are.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “You can’t keep a boyfriend secret in this town. Wait and see.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” That part was getting frustrating, too. With the constant barrage of gifts and flowers, everyone assumed she had someone. You didn’t receive jewelry out of nowhere, after all. Even Amy knew that, and each time a new piece showed up, it made her uncomfortable.
“Well,” Mrs. Lawrence said with a know-it-all expression on her face. “You should go out with whoever’s sending these to you. It’s clear he’s in love.”
Amy laughed awkwardly. “Maybe I should.” It was flattering, even if it was a little mystifying. She couldn’t figure out who the gift giver was. Every time she thought she had it figured out, a new gift would show up and mystify her. The gifts really did seem like Blake, trying to woo her back . . . except for the trees and the coat and the coffee maker, all things designed to make her life here more comfortable. She thought maybe it was a parent or a friend, or even the principal, who’d been known to cheat on his wife in the past. Awkward. But then she’d received a massive bouquet of mixed red and white flowers. There was a large poinsettia or two, red-edged white roses, and sprays of white flowers. It was beautiful . . . only the small white flowers looked like lily of the valley, a poisonous plant. Amy wasn’t sure . . . but she was also going to be darn careful, and she’d immediately taken them to the school office to lock them away. Her class was made up of the youngest kids in the school. Who was so thoughtless to send flowers to a kindergarten teacher without checking to see what was in the bouquet?
It made no sense. None of it.
Every now and then, she wondered if it was Caleb . . . but he seemed just as surprised as she was every time she showed up with flowers.
Besides, she was pretty sure he didn’t like her at this point. His silence told her he was doing things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he wanted to date her. He acted more like she was a nuisance than anything.
It wasn’t Caleb.
So . . . who was it? And why? Someone who gave jewelry to a stranger wanted something from them. But . . . what?
It was constantly on her mind, to the point that she constantly texted Becca throughout the day. Like when the locket came in on Friday—she immediately texted Becca. She’d grown close to the beautician over the summer when she kept showing up at the salon, just desperate for female conversation that wasn’t about classrooms or school starting. Becca was about the same age as Amy, single at the time, and they’d bonded right away. It was so nice to have a girlfriend in town, one who wouldn’t immediately assume Amy was secretly seeing a rich man because of all the gifts. Someone who’d be just as mystified as she was.
AMY: So in addition to the flowers and the coffeepot, I just got a locket.
BECCA: WTF
BECCA: Is there a picture inside the locket? Anything?
AMY: No, the only thing inside says that it’s 10-carat gold and the stone in it is a real ruby.
BECCA: This is insane.
BECCA: Do you think it could be a stalker?
AMY: Well, crap, now I do!
AMY: Do you think I’m in danger?
BECCA: Right now, no. But if it keeps escalating, it might be a problem.
BECCA: I would just keep a log of everything and don’t wear the gifts.
AMY: I was going to pawn the jewelry, but I guess I’ll hold on to it for now. Shoot.
AMY: Becca, I’m at my wit’s end. Who could it be? I swear I haven’t been giving anyone in town the wrong ideas.
BECCA: You’re sure it’s not Caleb?
AMY: God no, he hates me. You should see the dirty looks he gives me every time he picks me up.
BECCA: Caleb’s harmless, I promise you.
AMY: He’s the nicest, and he’s fixed so much for me, but he’s not doing a good job of hiding his dislike.
BECCA: Should I say something to Hank? Get him to straighten him out?
AMY: No! I feel guilty for saying anything at all. Just that it’s not him.