Page 12 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

“I don’t want to be a bother.” She hugged herself tighter, but she was shivering.

“The only bother is watching you turn into a popsicle. Get in before I have to explain to HR why one of our best wrappers became a lawn ornament.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Best wrapper? Friday you said my bows looked like a drunk octopus tied them.”

“A very talented drunk octopus.” I reached across and pushed open the door. “Seriously, get in. I promise I don’t bite unless specifically requested.”

She hesitated another moment before climbing in, immediately wrapping her arms around herself. I cranked the heat to full blast and switched on her seat warmer.

“Thank you.”

I pulled away from the curb, sneaking glances at her between checking traffic. Her nose was red from the cold, and she kept swiping at her cheeks when she thought I wasn’t looking.

“So,” I ventured, “want to tell me why you’re walking to work in the cold with what can hardly be considered a winter jacket while crying? Does someone need a holiday ass-kicking?”

That got a watery laugh out of her. “Yesterday when I called my ex to see if he’d dropped off the rest of my stuff at my storage like he promised, he told me he’d donated it all to Goodwill instead. Then, naturally, my car wouldn’t start this morning.”

“He what?” I gripped the steering wheel tighter, already planning ways to make this guy’s life miserable. “That’s theft.”

“Yeah, well, apparently it’s what I deserve for “ruining his holidays” by catching him cheating.” She sniffled, then immediately straightened up. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my drama.”

Instead of turning toward work, I turned the opposite direction. “First of all, fuck that guy. Second, have you eaten?”

“No, but…” On cue, her stomach growled loudly. “But work…”

“Will still be there in thirty minutes. I’m the boss, remember? I declare this a breakfast emergency.” I signaled and turned into my favorite breakfast fast-food joint. “Besides, you can’t wrap presents on an empty stomach. It’s against company policy.”

“Is it really?”

“It is now. I’m adding it to the handbook right after the section about mandatory dancing Santa appreciation.”

That earned me a laugh, the kind that made her entire face light up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you, I try.” I pulled into the drive-through lane. “Now, what’s your breakfast poison? And don’t say you’re not hungry, because I heard your stomach growl.”

She bit her lip, looking at the menu. “I really shouldn’t...”

“Either you choose or I’m ordering one of everything. And trust me, you don’t want to see me try to eat six breakfast sandwiches. It gets messy.”

“Fine,” she conceded with an eye roll. “A bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. And maybe a hot chocolate?”

“That’s my girl.” The words had just slipped out, but instead of making things awkward, her smile grew wider.

I ordered way more food than necessary, including hash browns and the cinnamon roll bites that were on a separate sign that she’d been eyeing. When she reached into her purse for her wallet, I waved her hand away.

“Put that away before you offend me.” I handed my card to the teenager at the window. “Consider it hazard pay for dealing with your ex’s bullshit.”

Relief flashed across her face before she could hide it. Just how bad was her situation?

I pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of a park down the street, cutting the engine but leaving the heat running. The early morning sun painted everything in soft gold, including Emery’s face as she carefully unwrapped her sandwich.

I dunked a hash brown in ketchup. “So, a storage unit and a broken-down car. Where are you staying?”

She focused intently on her food. “Oh, you know. Around.”

“Around?” My jaw clenched. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping in your car.”

“No! God no. I’m at the Extended Stay on Fifth.” She took a big bite, probably hoping I’d drop it.

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