Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“You’d be better than fine at home,” Mom grunted. “I’ll leave it for now, but think about it. You have the ticket if you change your mind.”
I highly doubted that would happen, but I didn’t want to argue, so I switched to general holiday topics, which of course led me to Christmas Town. I described the holiday-themed street names and the stores peddling ornaments, snow globes, and everything in between.
But I didn’t tell her about Moody’s Marvelous Bah Humbug Bookstore or its crabby owner. That was a curious oversight on my part. My mom loved bookshops. Moody’s humbug attitude would have made her chuckle. And that might have been enough to make her forget about wanting me home.
I didn’t have to mention that I had a major crush on Moody. I could downplay our friendship and never mention his big brown eyes or the way his nose twitched when he was trying not to laugh and the shake of his shoulders when he lost the battle.
Just thinking about Moody made me smile, but I wasn’t ready to share him yet and invite unwanted speculation. For now, it was enough to be happy.
And you know, I forgot my mom’s news about Kylie for a full twenty-four hours. I braced myself for a wave of anger or sadness, but I still felt absolutely nothing at all. I’d call that a win.
11
MOODY
“That tree is too short. That one is too skinny. That one has a bald spot.”
Hudson put his hands on his hips and pivoted in the middle of the Christmas tree lot like a sheriff facing an outlaw, serious as heck and prepared to do battle if necessary. Possibly with me, but let’s remember, I came with the warning label, “No good until January.” He should have known this wouldn’t go well.
He tipped his hat and pointed at a medium-sized Noble fir leaning against a post. “How about that one?”
I trudged over to the perfectly decent tree and looked for faults. It was a nice height, full and lush, and the needles smelled gorgeous. There had to be something annoying about it. Anything at all.
But gosh, it was…perfect. It reminded me of the trees Dad and I used to pick out at the lot around the corner from our house the day after Thanksgiving. It reminded me of cool wind, snowflakes on my father’s beard, and mugs of hot chocolate filled with mini marshmallows.
“I don’t hate it,” was the best I could do.
Hudson set a meaty hand on my shoulder and snickered. “Try again.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If you don’t hate something, you might actually…” He wiggled his fingers as if hoping to conjure a spell. “What’s that word again?”
“Not completely dislike it?” I offered, batting my lashes.
He crossed his arms, his lips quirking in amusement. “Do you need a thesaurus?”
I scoffed. “Fine. I think it’s quite adequate. Perhaps even…charming.”
Hudson’s grin threatened to take over his entire face. His eyes crinkled and his teeth gleamed, and against my wishes, the corner of my mouth curled to mimic his. Oh, no. I bit the inside of my cheeks to nip the unwarranted smile in the bud, but he was talking now and it was hard to listen and keep track of my facial muscles at the same time. Don’t ask me why…it just was.
“Charming! We’ve got ourselves a winner, ladies and gentlemen!” He clapped and threw his arms in the air. “Woohoo!”
“Calm yourself. It’s a tree. No one won the darn lottery,” I huffed.
“You have a point. All right, I’ll grab the trunk, and you take the other end.” He swooped low and hefted the tree with ease, obviously requiring no assistance whatsoever.
“You’re impressively endowed in the biceps department. I doubt you’ll need my help.”
I started to turn away, but Hudson tugged my scarf to stop me.
“Not so fast. This is a two-person job,” he insisted.
“You’re literally holding it on your own now and…” I puffed my cheeks out like a blowfish and rolled my eyes. “I know when I’m being tricked. This is holiday coercion at its worst.”
He winked. “Come on. I’ll pay you in blowjobs if you help me get this in the truck.”
“Blowjobs…plural?”
“Plural.”
“Very well. I accept.” With that I slipped my hand through the fir branches, grasped hold of my end, and marched ahead of Hudson to the register.
“Moody? Is that really you?” Cheryl Dalton inquired with a swift double take that made the ball at the end of her Santa hat smack her on the nose.
I pushed at my glasses and inclined my chin. “It is, indeed. My presence isn’t indicative of a seasonal change of heart, however, so please don’t spread untoward rumors.”
The older woman’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. I’m simply helping a friend.” I introduced Hudson, then meandered to a nearby rack of mistletoe, garlands, wreaths, and lights.