Regardless, I definitely do not like that woman, and I’m glad she’s gone.
CHAPTER 7
Veronica
The bells above the door tinkle, and I grin broadly as I see Janelle rushing through. She’s got her hair pulled into a high ponytail that swings jauntily as she says, “Sorry I’m almost late. We’ll blame that on my brother.”
I glance out the store window to see a dark gray Lexus pulling away. The car’s windows are tinted, but I assume that’s Riggs inside.
When I give my attention back to Janelle, she’s standing on the other side of the counter and thrusting a bag at me.
It’s no ordinary bag, but clearly a Christmas present. It’s red with a large reindeer on the front with an actual fuzzy red ball glued onto its nose. White tissue paper froths from the top.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I chastise as I take the bag, starting to pull at the tissue paper.
“I didn’t actually get it… it’s more something I made.”
My head pops up. “Really?”
“It’s not that great.” Her face flushes and her eyes fall.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s perfect.” I remove the tissue, reach inside, and pull out what I can feel is a picture frame. When it’s clear of the bag, I flip it over in my hands and gasp as I see what it is. “It’s amazing.”
Janelle smiles shyly. “I worked on it over Christmas. It’s a little rushed, but I wanted to give it to you today.”
My eyes drop back down to study what is a pencil drawing, and words can’t describe how stunning it is. It’s a drawing of me, standing in the stacks and reaching up to put a book on the shelf. Or perhaps I’m pulling it down. Regardless, the detail in my facial features is exquisite and so lifelike, I almost doubt its authenticity.
I look at Janelle, my eyes wide with awe. “You drew this?”
She nods with another shy smile.
“Janelle, this is incredible. I mean… this goes beyond just having some artistic talent. This is pure genius.”
And it is. It’s so wonderfully rich with detail—and just by pencil—that it feels three-dimensional. What I love the most is the expression on my face, which mimics exactly how I feel when I’m in this bookstore. Serene and content.
“I didn’t do it from memory,” she admits slyly.
“Oh yeah,” I murmur, not taking my eyes off the drawing.
“I surreptitiously took a photo of you with my phone and drew it from that,” she says with a giggle.
My eyes move to hers and I’m still in disbelief. “Whether you did it from memory or by looking at a photo, it’s still the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”
She blushes deep red this time and waves her hand as if it’s nothing.
“I love it so much.” I hug the frame to my chest. “Truly. Thank you.”
Now Janelle is embarrassed as she starts rambling on about her Christmas and the tons of presents Riggs got her.
“He’s clearly overcompensating,” she says drolly. “But we did bake cookies together yesterday with the groceries you bought. They were pretty awful, but it was still fun.”
I set the frame on the counter beside the register for anyone who might wish to see the lovely artwork. I should get Janelle to work, but I’m curious about Riggs making cookies with her.
For the two minutes I was in his presence, I found him to be an utter ass and have been lamenting that Janelle has to live with such an ogre.
A hot ogre, but an ogre all the same.
Let’s just say I was less than impressed with this member of the Arizona Vengeance. All the players I’ve met through Aaron and Clarke have been gregarious, charming, and polite. Riggs, on the other hand, was a complete dick to me when he came home early from his away game.
Not a thank-you for taking care of his sister. Not a genuine greeting. It was pure assholery, and it makes me wonder about the circumstances Janelle left back home to come live with him.
“So what else did you and your brother do on Christmas?” I ask.
“We basically watched Christmas movies all day and ate horrible cookies.” She laughs and shakes her head in amusement. “But he did grill some steaks for dinner, so that was good.”
Hmmm. That makes him sound almost nice. Doesn’t sound anything like what I observed.
“What did you do?” Janelle asks, leaning her forearms on the counter.
I brighten at the thought of my short holiday. “I spent it with my crazy family.”
“Crazy as in funny-ha-ha, or crazy as in you went to visit them in a mental institution?” she asks.
I snort laugh, loving the way she’s come out of her shell even further. “They’re the crazy-ha-ha type, although most of us think on any given day my great-aunt would do well in an institution.”