“Meow.”
Abby groaned, rubbed her face at where a paw swatted at her. “Go back to sleep, Mistletoe. Didn’t you get the memo? I’m going to sleep through Christmas this year.”
“Meow.” Another swat at her face.
Abby rolled onto her side, pulled her pillow over her head, hoping to gain a few more minutes of sleep before having to get up and face the reality of another Christmas spent alone.
That’s when she heard another noise.
What was that? Music? Singing?
She stretched, pushing the pillow away from her head and straining to hear.
Definitely Christmas music.
Coming from somewhere in her house.
She had not left music on.
She knew she hadn’t.
Someone was in her house.
Panic squeezed at her throat. Then, climbing out of her bed, she laughed at herself. What? A burglar had broken in and put on Christmas music? Right.
She must still be asleep, be dreaming.
Either that or Dirk had used the hide-a-key and if that was the case, she knew she was dreaming.
Dirk wouldn’t be playing Christmas music.
But apparently someone would. Maybe Danielle had taken pity on her and come over to surprise her.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, Abby rubbed her eyes, certain she wasn’t seeing clearly. Mixed emotions hit her at the sight of the man arranging Christmas packages under her tree.
The man she’d told to get out and not to come back.
How dared he come into her house and, well, whatever it was he was doing?
“I should have you arrested for breaking and entering.”
At the sound of Abby’s voice, Dirk turned from where he worked. Hell, he hadn’t finished with what he’d wanted to do.
Still, he’d made great headway.
“Ho. Ho. Ho.” Yes, he sounded stupid even to himself, but he had a lot riding on this. He’d seen the look in Abby’s eyes, had seen that she’d given up on him. It was going to take a desperate act to win her back. This stunt was about as desperate as desperate got. He wished he’d been able to finish. “You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet.”
Her glare didn’t let up. “You need to leave.”
He’d meant to change into her father’s Santa suit, had meant to give her the kind of Christmas Day she longed for, one like her parents had shared. “I will, but let me finish what I came to do first.”
She crossed her arms over her flannel-pajama-covered chest. She glanced around the room, took in the presents he’d arranged, the Santa suit he had draped across the back of the sofa.
“What are you doing?”
“Delivering presents.” Lots and lots of presents. Packages of various shapes and sizes were brightly wrapped and overflowing beneath the tree. It had cost him a small fortune to hire the personal shoppers to find stores open on Christmas morning, but if you were willing to spend enough, a person could do most anything. Even do major Christmas shopping on the great day itself.
“Why would you do that? You don’t even like Christmas.” She stood in the doorway, staring at him as if she really had caught Dr. Seuss’s Grinch stealing her Christmas rather than him in jeans and a T-shirt and a bundle of good intentions.