The Blonde Before Christmas: a Barb Jackson Mysteries holiday short story

BOOK: The Blonde Before Christmas: a Barb Jackson Mysteries holiday short story
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THE BLONDE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

 

by

 

ANNA SNOW

 

 

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Copyright © 2015 by Anna Snow

Cover design by Estrella Designs

Gemma Halliday Publishing

http://www.gemmahallidaypublishing.com

 

 

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

 

For my husband, John.

Thank you for always believing in me.

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CHAPTER ONE

 

Snow swirled gently around me as I made my way across the parking lot to the main entrance of the shopping mall. The holiday season was in full swing, and nearly every parking space was taken, so I'd been forced to park near the street in one of the slots farthest away from the building's main doors. The snow was falling softly but wasn't expected to last for more than a couple of hours, so I wasn't too worried about my little red Volkswagen Beetle getting stuck just yet. I pulled my black pea coat closer around me and nuzzled my nose down into the red scarf twined around my neck. Dallas could be bitingly cold around the holiday season, but I wouldn't have it any other way. The cold and snow added to the Christmas feeling.

Once on the sidewalk, the sound of Christmas carols reached my ears, and I lifted my face out of the warmth of my scarf. Donations buckets were set up beside the mall's main entrance. I reached into my pocket, pulled out some change, and dropped it into the red bucket. The man standing next to it smiled at me and continued singing. I returned his smile and pushed through the revolving doors leading into the heated building and sighed as warm air blasted against my face.

I brushed off the loose snowflakes that had made themselves at home in my blonde hair and on my clothing while on the walk in then removed my black leather gloves and shoved them into the pockets of my coat.

The mall was warm, cozy, and fully decorated for Christmas.

I took in the hustle and bustle around me as last-minute shoppers buzzed in and out of stores, their hands full of bags, some toting small children on their hips. Red, green, gold, and silver garland intertwined with bright, multicolored blinking lights wound its way around the entrances of several shops and along the fronts of the vendor carts selling pretzels, roasted nuts, and scented candles. Christmas trees of all shapes and sizes, comically large plastic candy canes, inflatable Santa Claus and his reindeer, and a scattering of oversized fake, prop presents decorated the open areas between shops and around their entrances. In the center of it all stood an enormous Christmas tree decorated with what had to be tens of thousands of lights, bows, ribbons, and oversized ornaments. Santa's chair sat nestled before the tree, surrounded by a winter-wonderland type of scene complete with fake cotton snow and a rideable train for the children who came to visit him to enjoy while waiting for their turn.

I took in my surroundings and smiled.

If there was one holiday I loved, it was Christmas.

Christmas was, as my best friend Kelly would say, my
thang
, and we were less than three days away from the big day. The anticipation made me feel like a little kid again.

The aroma of coffee, hot cocoa, and freshly baked cinnamon rolls from the coffee shop located to my right at the mall entrance wafted over me. I adjusted my coat and found my way inside.

Kelly and Mandy were supposed to be meeting me in the coffee shop to do a little Christmas shopping for their families. Since my mom and aunt's passing, my family consisted of Kelly, Mandy, and my favorite flashy, sassy, flaming red-haired honorary aunt, Mona. Mona had been my mom and Aunt Hannah's best friend since childhood. She'd stepped in and taken over the auntly duties after their passing. She was my rock.

I entered the coffee shop and approached the counter. A teenage barista with a nose ring and coal-black hair took my order: a caramel macchiato and a fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon roll.

Don't judge me. It was the holidays. Besides, it wasn't like I had a hot boyfriend to show my body off to at home. I wasn't all that great with relationships. I was a workaholic, a bit of a homebody, and, truth-be-told, not many men approved of my profession. Men seemed to think that just because I was a private investigator I'd have nothing better to do than sneak around and spy on them. 

While the young man prepared my order, I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and checked my text messages. There was one from Mandy.

Running late. Not sure I'll make it. You two go on without me.

I fired off a quick,
Okay, talk to you tomorrow if you can't make it
, to her.

The barista handed me my order. I pulled out my wallet, paid him, and tossed a tip in his tip jar on the counter beside the register.

The coffee shop wasn't as busy as I'd expected. Most people were too busy shopping. Since it looked like Kelly was running late and Mandy would more than likely be a no-show, I found a small table for two by the window. I sat my cinnamon roll and coffee on the table, unwound the scarf from around my neck, and removed my coat and draped it over the back of my chair before taking a seat.

I checked the time and slid the phone back into the front pocket of my jeans.

I looked around the busy shop and spotted a cute couple seated across from me. Against my wishes, my heart skipped with longing. It wasn't like I longed for a ring on my finger or a baby in my belly. And not being in a relationship definitely wasn't the end of the world. But I had to admit that as I sat there and watched the couple—their tender looks, their gentle, subtle caresses as they talked to one another—I was undeniably lonely.

Five years ago I'd been engaged to a handsome, successful, skeevy cheater who'd broken my heart when I'd caught him in his office on top of his secretary. I hadn't exactly jumped back on the dating bandwagon after that. I'd been on a few dates but held off on any type of serious relationship. He was the only guy I'd ever dated that hadn't been at least a few years older than me. I had a thing for older men.

It had been scary going through the training to becoming a private investigator and opening my own office, but I'd done it. When I'd first started out I hadn't wanted to get sidetracked, but now I was beginning to think that it was time to get back out there. Test the waters, if you will.

The fact that the only cases I really got hired for were cheating partners didn't really help my desire to date again. I knew that not all men were the same, but seeing so many cheaters could cloud a girl's judgment.

I took a sip of my coffee.

Finding a man who could keep it in his pants, accept my homebody tendencies, late night stakeouts, the fact that I was a little awkward in large social situations, and who understood me in those instances when the human race irritated the stuff right out of me was a long shot.

I watched the couple discreetly for a minute longer then directed my attention back to my cinnamon roll.

I was a five-foot tall, thirty-year-old private investigator with about ten extra pounds, mostly in the chest and bum, and a fifteen-year-old cat that thought he was king of the castle. I wasn't exactly what guys pictured when they thought of their ideal mate. But maybe I should at least give it a try and start dating again once the holidays were over. Maybe not. I doubted I'd be able to find a man who was willing to deal with all the little kinks and quirks that came along with being my boyfriend. I still had plenty of time to think about it. Until then, there were presents to buy and my favorite holiday to enjoy.

I bit into my cinnamon roll and nearly moaned out loud as the ooey-gooey goodness filled my mouth.

Cinnamon rolls don't cheat. Cinnamon rolls understand.

Kelly walked in. Her short black hair was in its usual style of controlled-sexy disarray, and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief as they always did.

She spotted me and took a seat in the chair across from me at the same time that I took a big bite out of my cinnamon roll.

"You're eating that thing like it's your job. I thought you were getting in shape?" she laughed.

"I am," I said around a mouthful of warm, gooey goodness. "After the holidays."

"I'll be right back." She held up a finger then hurried to the counter. Minutes later she returned with a latte and cinnamon roll of her own.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but she just shrugged. "You made it look so good. It wouldn't have been fair if I'd had to miss out."

I laughed and wiped my mouth and fingers on one of the red napkins from the holder on the table. "Mandy texted me," I said. "She said she's running late and that we should start without her."

Kelly nodded and swallowed the bite in her mouth. "She texted me too. Her family is in town. They arrived this morning. With all of those little nephews, she kind of has her hands full."

Mandy was from a huge Italian family and doted on her little nephews.

All nine of them.

Needless to say, when they were in town for a visit, her time was booked solid.

"I don't have a lot to pick up," Kelly continued. "I need to pick up a gift for Mandy and something for Mark. I got all of the other gifts on my list about a month ago."

Mark was Kelly's on-again, off-again boyfriend. They were usually more off than they were on. I didn't care for the guy, but Kelly really liked him, so I kept my mouth shut. Besides, with my relationship track record, who was I to give advice?

"I'm not shopping for anything in particular, so I'm not in a big hurry."

Kelly eyed me suspiciously. "Are you all right?"

I looked at her and tilted my head. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"Well, when I walked in you looked pretty deep in thought. When you weren't mooning over that cinnamon roll that is." She laughed. "Is there something on your mind?" She leaned back in her chair and stirred her coffee with a tiny green straw.

I twisted the bright red coffee cup between my palms, enjoying its warmth against my skin, then released a pent-up sigh. "I think I want to start dating again," I admitted uneasily. "I'm…lonely."

"Well it's about damn time," she said with a grin and slapped the table. "I was starting to think that you were going to become one of those old spinsterish cat ladies."

I raised an eyebrow at her and sipped my coffee. She wasn't wrong. The thought of becoming a spinster had crossed my own mind.

"But what brought on this change of heart?" she asked. "Not that I'm complaining. I think you need someone else in your life."

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I think it's time. Like you said, I'm looking more and more like a crazy cat lady every day. I'm just not sure I'll be able to find a guy who can be faithful and put up with my job.

Kelly shook her head. "You just have to have faith. I know that we see a lot of cheaters in our line of work, but you know very well that not all men are the same. You'll be fine. Someone will come along."

"Thanks. I know you're right." I smiled at her. I needed to get us off of this subject before I got depressed. I needed to get the pessimistic side of myself that liked to poke its head out back under control.

"Now that that's settled," I wadded up my red napkin, "what do you say we get this shopping party on the road? I have a date with my couch and my cat for pizza and movies."

"I say let's get a move on. The mall closes at eleven, and I'd like to get out of here before everyone starts heading for the door. Some of these holiday shoppers can get a little crazy around closing time," Kelly agreed and stood.

I stood, draped my coat and scarf over my arm, and followed Kelly out of the shop.

I shoved any doubts about finding a lasting relationship into a little box in the back of my mind. This was going to be the best Christmas ever, with the best friends a girl could ask for, and I wasn't going to let anything ruin it.

BOOK: The Blonde Before Christmas: a Barb Jackson Mysteries holiday short story
8.97Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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