Page 35 of Jingle Bell Jilt
I push out a breath and bounce my shoulders up and down. What’s the likelihood she’ll be allergic to the soap? And if she is, we can just return it to the store tomorrow or sometime before she leaves.
I push all the thoughts of allergies from my mind before I do something really lame like go to the twenty-four-hour gas station and buy her something there.
I pick up her stocking and run up the stairs. Grabbing the bags from behind my bed, I start shoving the different toiletries into the stocking. She’s probably going to think I’m a complete creeper for giving her stuff like body wash and shampoo in her stocking. I’m embarrassed to admit that I went into her bathroom to try and see what brands she likes. But that was a complete bust. Everything she has is in travel bottles. And not the name-brand bottles that you buy at Target or Walmart. Additionally, she had like three different bars of soap in her shower. Who needs three different bars of soap? None of them had names inscribed. It is the worst example of spying I’ve ever witnessed.
I stare at the Bath and Body Works body wash. Why did I think this was a good idea? It would be one thing if she was a guy. Most guys will use about anything that’s in the shower. But girls are super picky about things like this, aren’t they? And even if she does, by some chance, like Bath and Body Works body wash, what if I got the completely wrong scent? They only sell like a thousand different kinds. My sister definitely has opinions about such things.
I may as well just plan on battling the after-Christmas crowds to return everything I bought her. Because I’m pretty sure she’s going to hate it all.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
SHAY
Iwake up and yawn, stretching like my parents’ labradoodle. Arms and legs stretch out taut in front of me with my back curved inward. I take a deep cleansing breath and cry out as a Charlie horse tightens my calf muscle.
Tears spring to my eyes as I hurry and pull my leg up to me, kneading at my calf like it’s a hard piece of Play-Doh.
There’s a knock on my door. “Shay, are you okay?” Evan asks.
“Yeah,” I say, even though I’m not sure I am. It’s a doozy. I may never be able to walk normally again. “It’s just a Charlie horse.”
“Ah, I hate those,” he says. “Maybe we should stop by the store and pick up some bananas once they open.”
“Bananas?” Why would we want to make a special trip to the store just for bananas? I mean, I like them well enough. But maybe not enough to go to the store on Christmas Day for them.
“Yeah, they have a lot of potassium. That’s supposed to help with Charlie horses.”
I stare at my door. What’s he talking about? “I thought Charlie horses meant that you aren’t drinking enough water.”
“Maybe that helps too.” It’s quiet for a minute before there’s another knock. “Shay, can I come in?”
“Yeah,” I draw it out because I’m not sure what to expect when he opens it. Just as it cracks open, I throw Big Green over me. I mean, he’s seen me in my PJs, but it feels a little personal for him to see me in them in bed.
He steps inside with a tall glass of ice water. “Here. You may as well start hydrating now. If it doesn’t get better, I’ll go grab some bananas.”
My heart skitters inside my chest. He brought me water and is offering to go find bananas? On Christmas Day. Who is this guy?
I abandon kneading my calf so I can clutch the water glass in my hands. “Thanks,” I say, suddenly shy.
“Hey, Merry Christmas.” He grins. “You want to come open your presents?”
“Presents?” I ask. Because I only bought him one. And that will be weird if he bought me a bunch.
“Well, there’s the matter of the ugly sweaters.” His brows dart upwards several times.
My eyes widen. It’s just so cute that he thinks he’s going to win. Because he’s so not going to. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that.”
He smirks. “Why do I not believe you?”
“Let me just brush my teeth and I’ll be right out.”
He nods and closes my door behind him. I take two more big swigs of the water but swallow them way too fast and start choking.
“Shay, are you sure you’re okay?” I think he’s calling from downstairs.
“Yeah, I just forgot how to swallow,” I holler.
I can hear him chuckle even from here. I throw back the covers and hurry into the bathroom to give my teeth a quick brushing. None of that two-minute crap for me this morning. It’s Christmas, and I’m not going to feel guilty for slighting my dental hygiene. But I do swish the toothpaste around in my mouth for good measure.
