“I’m always right, fucker.” His laugh is loud and carries. A few of Moseley’s men look our way, but they don’t advance. “It’s still daytime, brother. She’ll be fine for a couple of hours.”
Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from her building and sigh. “Okay, but only because I’m in desperate need of a shower right now.”
He pounds on my back a few times, still laughing. “That’s the Christmas spirit, Krampy.”
“If there’s one thing I don’t have, it’s fucking Christmas spirit.”
“Well, Thanksgiving is next week. So maybe that will put you in the holiday mood. Word is, they want to do another Secret Santa this year.”
“Fuck, not again.”
“Yup, and this time, all bets are off.”
“Fuck my life. Last year someone gave me a pair of socks and a fruitcake.”
“Yeah, but that fruitcake was damn fucking good. And those socks were fuzzy. Everybody loves a good fuzzy sock.”
“They were pink and glittery.”
He winks at me. “Even better.”
“Can I just refuse to be a part of it?”
He shakes his head. “Hell no. You’re part of the club, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Then you celebrate shit with the club. Leave that Grinchy, Scrooge shit at home.”
“Fuck. If I haven’t told you before, I’m going to say it again. I really fucking hate the holidays.”
Voorhees slaps on that famous charismatic smile, the same smile that can charm any lady to his bed. “That’s why you have a best buddy that’s all about the holidays. I’ll be your personal little Christmas elf sent down from the North Pole to bring you some much needed Christmas cheer.” His grin widens.
“Well, there goes the holidays.”
He laughs. “Alright, enough stalking and sulking. Let’s get back to the club and see what the fuck Drac wants this time.”
But before we leave, I steal one last glance at Mindy’s shop, wishing I had enough courage to meander inside, grab her by the waist, and apologize to her in front of all her patrons until the woman gives in and forgives me.
ChapterSeventeen
Mindy
“He’s still out there,” I grumble, shooting Amber a pained look.
Krampus has been out there every damn day since our fight, sitting on the bench across the street. Sometimes I see him parked a few blocks up, always just watching from the sidelines and never venturing inside. It’s sad, because I pretty much forgave him the second I rode off, but he hasn’t even attempted to make contact with me, just stalks me outside like a weirdo.
“Give him time,” Amber coos, handing a customer her baked goods. “He’s a tough egg to crack, but underneath all that grump is a big ole’ teddy bear.”
“You say that because you’ve known him for years.”
She laughs. “Which is why I know him so well. Rich can be a bit of an asshole at times, but what guy isn’t?”
She shoots me another look of sympathy.
“It’s been almost two weeks. He hasn’t said anything to me. He hasn’t even bought a baked good.”
“That’s because he had enough to last him a lifetime,” Amber says, her chuckle rising above the soft music playing overhead.
