Page 23 of Jingle Bell Jilt
“Do you want to walk all the way there and then back with our bags or do you want to park closer?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no. I’m not driving this beast closer. Look at how many cars are there.” A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead even thinking about maneuvering BR around that parking lot.
He wiggles his fingers. “I figured as much. Give me the keys and I’ll drive the beast,” he emphasizes the name as if I’m being overly dramatic. Which I’m not. “I drive a truck at home in New Hampshire. I think I can manage this. It’s the same size.”
I dig in my purse and pull out the keys. I’m just about to hand them over to him, but I pull back. “Wait. You aren’t on the insurance. What if you’re in an accident?”
He tips his head to the side. “Which do you think is more likely?Mebeing in an accident oryoubeing in an accident?”
I give a fake laugh. “I won’t be in an accident because I’m not driving over there. You see how that works?”
“Come on, you big chicken. Give me the keys. I promise I’ll be careful. And if anything happens, I’ll pay for everything.”
“On top of your house repairs?” I guffaw. “Someone’s feeling rather high on the horse.”
“It’s the hog. I’m feeling high on the hog.” He raises a brow at me, looking rather stern. “Come on, I’m good for it. If you don’t believe me, ask Na—” He pauses and his cheeks redden. “My neighbors. They can all vouch for me. Besides, my insurance will pay for most of the repairs on the house.”
I smack him lightly on the arm. “You have insurance? Why didn’t you say so? I’ve been worrying for nothing.”
“Oh, there’s still plenty to worry about. Do you know how much my rates are going to go up?” He snatches the keys from my hand while I’m distracted with his not-as-sad-as-it-used-to-be story.
“Hey!” I grab for them, but he holds them above my head. I scowl at him. “I have always detested keep away.”
He brings them down. “You really would rather walk all the way back here with all of our bags than let me drive?”
I look at the Walmart in the distance. I think it might have actually moved farther away since we began this conversation. “Fine. You can drive. Otherwise, we may never even make it back in time to decorate.”
He smiles. “How long are these crafts going to take? It’s barely even ten.”
“Well, it can’t take all night. It’s not Christmas Eve if we don’t watch some traditional Christmas movies, right?”
His eyes light up. “LikeDie Hard? We watch that every year.”
I roll my eyes. “Why do all guys think thatDie Hardis a Christmas movie? It’s not.”
He scoffs. “Uh, it takes place at Christmas.” He opens my door and waits until I get in before he shuts it. He jogs around the front of BR and continues the debate as if he had never left off. “Which means, ipso facto,Die Hardis a Christmas movie.”
“Ipso facto? Do you even know what that means?”
He pushes the ignition button and grins over at me. “I have no idea, but I think I heard it in a legal movie once. So I’m pretty sure it’s for real.”
“Yeah, because movies never lie.”
He nods emphatically. “Just like the internet.”
I jerk my head around. “You really don’t believe that, right?”
He laughs as he shifts the car into gear and pulls forward.
* * *
I’m standingin the craft aisle, looking at hot glue guns.
“Are they really that much different?” Evan asks.
“Uh, yeah. One is a cool melt while the other is a hot. I’m just trying to decide if the cool one will work for all my projects.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to use it. So, it’s all on you,” he looks bored.
