Page 35 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

“It’s there, somewhere,” my aunt’s voice comes through the phone, irritated. “You’re not looking hard enough.”

“If I look any harder, my eyes will fall out,” I snap.

There’s a terrible silence on the other end which has me scrambling to apologize, “But what do I know? I’m half blind. You have fun with your friends. Never mind me!” I end the call hastily, and stare down at the phone like it’s personally responsible for me bring rude to the one person who can actually make me suffer for it.

The attic is surprisingly clean, courtesy of my aunt who hates and abhors even a little bit of dust. I look around but don’t find anything.

“It was here, last year,” I say loudly, scratching my head. “I know I saw it a few months ago. Where are you?”

A sound from the trapdoor that leads to the entrance of the attic has me looking over my shoulder, “Aunt Helen?”

Heavy footsteps and then a familiar head pops out from the open latch. “Oh, hello,” Finn looks surprised to see me. “I thought I heard something. What are you doing here?”

I look around myself at the number of boxes that are seemingly in some order but I can’t make heads or tails out of the system. “I’m supposed to be looking for the Christmas decorations.”

“Oh, you’re going to start decorating the diner?” He sounds delighted. “Need a hand?” Even as he asks, he’s entering the attic.

Finn looks good in any color but in black, he looks all kinds of sexy and dangerous. It’s a deadly combination and I stare at him for a few minutes, robbed of all speech.

When he smirks, I’m knocked out of my daze, and I put on my customary scowl. “You do realize that guests are not allowed up here?”

“Oh.” He looks around in interest, completely disregarding what I’m saying. “All right. So, where do we start?”

Why do I even try?

“Don’t you have things to do?” I ask as we start looking for the two cardboard boxes. “Ever since you got here, I haven’t seen you do any kind of work. You’re always lazing around.”

“I’m wooing a grumpy barista,” he says from behind some boxes. “That’s a job in itself.”

“Hey!” I say, offended. “I’m a business owner.”

“Of course, the grumpy part doesn’t offend your sensibilities,” he intones, dryly.

“I prefer ‘level headed’.”

“Darlin’, there is nothing level headed about you.” He grins at me.

At this smart aleck shot, I grin back.

Stacy is managing the diner today so I’m not really worried. I’m thinking of giving her a Christmas bonus. The girl has been a massive help this season. But then, she always is.

Finn does more poking around, satisfying his curiosity than being helpful.

When he drags out a large black trunk, I glance over. “That’s the family crest. Don’t mess with that. Aunt Vee will kill you.”

He sits down, cross-legged, in front of it and looks at me, his eyes gleaming like those of a five year old’s who’s discovered a treasure map. “Say, Clara. Does your family line really have witch blood in it?”

I raise my brow at him. “Don’t tell me you believe in witches?”

“I’m Irish. I believe in a lot more than witches, luv.”

I rifle through one of the boxes. “Good for you then.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Are you a witch?” He probes.

I have to prevent myself from rolling my eyes at his excitement even as a smile tugs at my lips. “That’s not what you asked.”

“Can you curse somebody? Have you ever turned somebody into a toad?”

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