Page 73 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

I rest a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll help you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sunny

December 15th

We’reknee deep in spreadsheets, and I’m starting to feel like I’ve been living in Excel for days. But a weird rhythm has formed between Ryder and me.

I mean, who knew we’d make such a great team? Not me, that’s for sure.

I’m sitting at the desk, flicking through another stack of papers, when I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

That happens a lot lately. I forget to breathe when I’m trying to figure out if there’s a pattern hidden in the numbers.

Tinsel jumps up onto the desk, weaving between the piles of contracts like she owns the place. I let out a frustrated laugh, brushing her aside gently, but the soft weight of her curling against my arm is… oddly comforting.

Even when the numbers make no sense, at least one thing in this room isn’t falling apart.

My fingers start to ache, and my eyes feel like they’ve been sandpapered, but I’m so focused that I almost don’t notice when Ryder leans over the desk, his elbow brushing mine.

“I don’t like any of this,” I mutter, staring at the sheet in front of me.

“I can tell,” he replies calmly. “But the deeper we get into it, I don’t think Evie did anything wrong. I really don’t think she was behind this.”

I glance up to see him watching me with a quiet intensity. He’s genuinely trying to piece it all together, too.

And for a second, it’s not so overwhelming. Not so impossible.

We’re getting closer, but there’s still so much to uncover, and I don’t want to be the one to drop the ball.

“You wonder if we’re just missing something huge?” I ask, twisting in my seat, trying to shake off the tension in my back.

I don’t know why I say it. Maybe I need to talk.

Ryder looks over at me, his eyes catching mine in a way that makes my heart do a small, unexpected flip.

“I guess we are, right?”

I let out a slow breath and look back down at the paper, my finger running down a line of numbers that seems to blur the more I stare at it.

My brain is starting to melt, and I swear, if one more column doesn’t add up, I might scream.

I shift in my seat, rubbing my eyes, trying to push through the fatigue.

“You know,” I start, maybe a little too loud, “I’ve worked in a lot of different fields, but accounting? That was never on my resume.”

Ryder’s quiet laugh catches me by surprise. I look up at him, blinking.

“Really?” he says, light and teasing. “And here I thought you were a trained accountant this whole time.”

I huff, rolling my eyes dramatically. “Oh yeah, I’ve totally got a certificate in ‘Advanced Spreadsheet Wizardry.’ Didn’t you see it on my LinkedIn?”

He chuckles again, and it’s the first real laugh I’ve heard from him in days. It’s so unexpected, and it makes the tension in the room crack just a little bit.

I smile despite myself, the warmth from his laugh doing something strange to my chest.

“Well, I’ve also never been a lawyer,” I add, gesturing toward the pile of contracts we’re sifting through. “But, you know, I might just put that on my LinkedIn, too. ‘Specializing in reading legalese after too much coffee and too little sleep.’”