Simmons stood in the middle of the south parlor, bags at his feet and on the sofas, pulling lights out of their boxes.
“Madam.” He sounded grateful. “You have a plan for all of this?”
“Of course. Tree in the corner.” I pointed to the right of the fireplace on the east wall. “Lights on the tree, around the front doors, and around the roofline. Net lights on the junipers outside. Wreath on the door.”
Did I ever. I spent almost three hundred dollars at Target on ornaments, tree lights, a stand, a skirt, and a lighted wreath for the front door. Then we went to the live tree stand up the road and spent another hundred-seventy-five on a ten-foot blue spruce. I was very glad I’d brought Jim, after all: How would a tiny little thing like me manage to get a ten-foot tree in the truck? Or, rather, out of it? Every man on that lot asked me twice if I’d need any help when I got home. I left fifty dollars in the tip jar. Flattery will get you pretty damn far with me.
The cab smelled like blood and soap. Mostly blood. I hadn’t realized it had been so long since I fed, and I was kicking myself for agreeing to take Jim with me. An hour’s drive to Denver, a trip to Target, a trip to the tree stand, an hour back…. It was excruciating. I had to distract myself. “So, how long have you been working – ” For me? At the covenhouse? – “under Simmons?”
“Couple months.” I felt his eyes on me, assessing. “Heard you were away with Mr. Black.”
I nodded.
Note: While this story is written within the context of the Josephine Series of novels (Black, Red, and Gold), it is considered non-canon. Why non-canon? The story was written for the holiday season without intent that it should fit Josephine’s overall story arc. For this story to make any sense in the arc, it would have to take place between Black and Red. However, for it to occur during the holiday season it would have to take place between Red and Gold. Since both cannot be true, non-canon.
“I want a Christmas tree.”
Grant looked up from the sheaf of papers in his hands, one brow raised. “And I expect you want me to control the weather and guarantee you snow, as well.”
Oh, man, would that be cool. “Can we do that?”
A stranger that you’ve met once, in a brief encounter, shows up while you’re dining by yourself. After trading a few barbs with you, he proceeds to pay for your meal.
“You women today,” he said, ignoring my grabbing for the check as he swept it off the table into his huge hands. “The interesting ones won’t accept a gift, and the boring ones make it an expectation.” He placed a ridiculously large bill in the check wallet and slapped it shut, stowing his billfold in his front pocket. “And so we’re not strangers anymore: I’m Grant Black.”
-BLACK, Chapter 3
So tell me, how would you react to this kind of introduction?