Christmas from Hell
Page 4
“It’s Thanksgiving,” he murmured with a dreamy little sigh as he stared down at the orange and yellow cupcakes that she’d just finished frosting.
“So?” she said, deciding that this was probably a good time to place the covers on the food and set them carefully in the cart.
“So, it means that I can indulge a little bit,” he said with a slight pout that had her rolling her eyes, because he should really have known better than to try to bullshit her by now.
“No,” she said, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss his whiskered cheek, “it really doesn’t.”
“Well, it should,” he said, heavily as he gave the platters of cupcakes, brownies and cookies one last glance of longing and reached for the bowl of fruit that she kept well stocked for him.
“Tell that to your doctor,” she said with a wink as she grabbed a tray of extra large double chocolate chunk cookies and placed them on the cart’s bottom shelf.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t going to call my doctor anymore.”
“I crossed my fingers,” she admitted with a shrug as she grabbed a tray of double chocolate brownies with fudge frosting and placed it on the next shelf.
Somehow he managed to narrow his eyes even further. “You’re fired,” he said tightly, making her roll her eyes, because really, that was just never going to happen.
“Uh huh,” she murmured absently as she glanced around the kitchen, wondering where that last tray of cupcakes had disappeared to when she realized that her grandfather was leaning back against the pantry doors, trying to avoid making eye contact with her.
“Really?” she asked with a sad shake of her head.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, managing to keep a straight face.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, shaking her head in annoyance as she walked over, grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle pull, which did absolutely nothing since he outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.
Closing her eyes in defeat, she said, “Move or I’m calling your doctor right now and telling him that you’re trying to eat junk food again.”
“You’re bluffing.”
She opened her eyes and met her grandfather’s hard grey eyes head on, grey eyes that had been known to make grown men cry, and matched it with a glare of her own. She was the only one, besides her grandmother that is, whom he couldn’t intimidate.
He’d tried.
God, how he’d tried, but since she was a baby she’d always managed to give it right back to him without hesitation, which was probably why she’d always had a special place in his heart. Well, normally she did, but not right now since she was coming between him and sweets.
“Am I?” she asked, cocking a brow in challenge, because they both knew that she wouldn’t hesitate calling his doctor and telling on him if he kept pushing her.
A little muscle in his jaw began to tick, which really wasn’t a good sign. But, then again she wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else was. Granted, most people had a good reason to be afraid of her grandfather. Even though he was in his sixties, you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He was still physically fit, six-two, two hundred pounds of muscle, and a retired Marine Drill Sergeant. He had very little patience for stupidity and never gave anyone a second chance. If you crossed him or someone he loved, Heaven help you, because no one else would.
He was also about three-dozen cookies away from becoming a diabetic or having another heart attack.
That muscle in his jaw jumped double time as he glared down at her. “I’m fine,” he finally growled.
Well, snarled really, obviously making one last attempt to get her to walk away and leave him in peace so that he could indulge his sweet tooth.
“Then those two heart attacks meant what exactly?” she asked, standing her ground.
“They were nothing,” he said tightly, clearly on the verge of giving up.
“Uh huh,” she said, gesturing for him to move aside so that she could grab the last tray.
“I knew it was a mistake to teach you how to talk,” he said with one last glare as he walked over to the fruit bowl, grabbed an apple and took a large, unsatisfying bite.
“I love you, too, Grandpa,” she said with a chuckle as she opened the pantry door and-
Sighed heavily with disappointment.
“Really?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she stared at her grandfather’s stash.
“I don’t know how those got in there,” he said in a monotone voice as he took another bite of his apple.
“Yeah, I’m sure you have no idea how two dozen donuts from our bakery ended up in the pantry,” she said, chuckling because there was just something so endearing about a man like him trying to talk his way out of trouble.
“I really don’t.”
“I’m sure that you don’t,” she said, chuckling as she loaded the final tray onto the cart. Standing up, she sighed with relief. “It’s ready,” she said, gesturing to the cart in question with a sweep of her arms, relieved that it was finally done so that she could call it a night.
Mid-bite, her grandfather paused and stared at her blankly. “Why are you telling me?”
“Because you’re supposed to take it next door,” she reminded him as she reached back and undid her apron.
“No, I’m not,” he said, looking mildly confused.
“Yes, you are,” she said, in absolutely no mood to play this game with him, because they both knew that she would never willingly go next door.
“I don’t remember discussing this.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she considered her grandfather. “You asked me to do this as a favor for Danny and Jodi. You said that you would bring the food next-door when it was done.”
“So?” she said, deciding that this was probably a good time to place the covers on the food and set them carefully in the cart.
“So, it means that I can indulge a little bit,” he said with a slight pout that had her rolling her eyes, because he should really have known better than to try to bullshit her by now.
“No,” she said, standing on her tiptoes so that she could kiss his whiskered cheek, “it really doesn’t.”
“Well, it should,” he said, heavily as he gave the platters of cupcakes, brownies and cookies one last glance of longing and reached for the bowl of fruit that she kept well stocked for him.
“Tell that to your doctor,” she said with a wink as she grabbed a tray of extra large double chocolate chunk cookies and placed them on the cart’s bottom shelf.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t going to call my doctor anymore.”
“I crossed my fingers,” she admitted with a shrug as she grabbed a tray of double chocolate brownies with fudge frosting and placed it on the next shelf.
Somehow he managed to narrow his eyes even further. “You’re fired,” he said tightly, making her roll her eyes, because really, that was just never going to happen.
“Uh huh,” she murmured absently as she glanced around the kitchen, wondering where that last tray of cupcakes had disappeared to when she realized that her grandfather was leaning back against the pantry doors, trying to avoid making eye contact with her.
“Really?” she asked with a sad shake of her head.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, managing to keep a straight face.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said, shaking her head in annoyance as she walked over, grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle pull, which did absolutely nothing since he outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.
Closing her eyes in defeat, she said, “Move or I’m calling your doctor right now and telling him that you’re trying to eat junk food again.”
“You’re bluffing.”
She opened her eyes and met her grandfather’s hard grey eyes head on, grey eyes that had been known to make grown men cry, and matched it with a glare of her own. She was the only one, besides her grandmother that is, whom he couldn’t intimidate.
He’d tried.
God, how he’d tried, but since she was a baby she’d always managed to give it right back to him without hesitation, which was probably why she’d always had a special place in his heart. Well, normally she did, but not right now since she was coming between him and sweets.
“Am I?” she asked, cocking a brow in challenge, because they both knew that she wouldn’t hesitate calling his doctor and telling on him if he kept pushing her.
A little muscle in his jaw began to tick, which really wasn’t a good sign. But, then again she wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else was. Granted, most people had a good reason to be afraid of her grandfather. Even though he was in his sixties, you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He was still physically fit, six-two, two hundred pounds of muscle, and a retired Marine Drill Sergeant. He had very little patience for stupidity and never gave anyone a second chance. If you crossed him or someone he loved, Heaven help you, because no one else would.
He was also about three-dozen cookies away from becoming a diabetic or having another heart attack.
That muscle in his jaw jumped double time as he glared down at her. “I’m fine,” he finally growled.
Well, snarled really, obviously making one last attempt to get her to walk away and leave him in peace so that he could indulge his sweet tooth.
“Then those two heart attacks meant what exactly?” she asked, standing her ground.
“They were nothing,” he said tightly, clearly on the verge of giving up.
“Uh huh,” she said, gesturing for him to move aside so that she could grab the last tray.
“I knew it was a mistake to teach you how to talk,” he said with one last glare as he walked over to the fruit bowl, grabbed an apple and took a large, unsatisfying bite.
“I love you, too, Grandpa,” she said with a chuckle as she opened the pantry door and-
Sighed heavily with disappointment.
“Really?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief as she stared at her grandfather’s stash.
“I don’t know how those got in there,” he said in a monotone voice as he took another bite of his apple.
“Yeah, I’m sure you have no idea how two dozen donuts from our bakery ended up in the pantry,” she said, chuckling because there was just something so endearing about a man like him trying to talk his way out of trouble.
“I really don’t.”
“I’m sure that you don’t,” she said, chuckling as she loaded the final tray onto the cart. Standing up, she sighed with relief. “It’s ready,” she said, gesturing to the cart in question with a sweep of her arms, relieved that it was finally done so that she could call it a night.
Mid-bite, her grandfather paused and stared at her blankly. “Why are you telling me?”
“Because you’re supposed to take it next door,” she reminded him as she reached back and undid her apron.
“No, I’m not,” he said, looking mildly confused.
“Yes, you are,” she said, in absolutely no mood to play this game with him, because they both knew that she would never willingly go next door.
“I don’t remember discussing this.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she considered her grandfather. “You asked me to do this as a favor for Danny and Jodi. You said that you would bring the food next-door when it was done.”
