Page 58 of Not Your Average Vixen
“Got it!” she called, carrying over a large picnic basket.
“Really?” he asked.
“It’s a picnic basket. How fun, right?”
She found a clean dish towel, lined the bottom, then placed each cookie into the basket while humming “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
This gave him some time to observe his curious vixen. She looked like the same woman, but this behavior went well beyond injecting Christmas juju into baked goods.
“Are you okay?”
She held up the last cookie and gazed lovingly at it before placing it into the basket. “I am more than okay because the chocolate is happy. It’s happy to be united with the peanut butter blossom.”
“You take your baking seriously,” he remarked, trying to figure out this chick.
She closed the basket, then switched out her apron for her coat.
“I’m keeping these with me. They’re great to snack on,” she said, ignoring him and pocketing the baggie with considerably fewer cinnamon gummy bears left inside.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
She stared at him blankly. “Go where?”
“To Kringle Acres. The retirement community where we’re throwing a spaghetti dinner.”
She gasped. “That’s tonight?”
“Yeah, you made the schedule.”
Bridget glanced around wildly. “Well, then we have to go!”
Was she messing with him?
“Have you forgotten to take your meds or something?” he asked, not kidding in the least.
That perplexed crinkle returned to her forehead. “Like vitamins? I took my multi-vitamin this morning.”
He shook his head, giving up. If she wanted to play some bizarro game, he was not going to bite.
“Let’s go. You probably need a little air.”
They settled themselves inside the pickup truck. He had to get through this bullshit spaghetti thing, and then, he’d find a moment to talk with Tom and make his case.
He got the keys from the visor and started the car as Bridget bounced on the seat like a toddler in a bouncy house.
“It’s jiggly in here, like Jell-O,” she said with a wide grin.
“Can you try and focus? We need to figure out how to get to Kringle Acres,” he said as he shifted the vehicle into gear and headed down the snow-packed road.
She opened the glove box, then gasped.
“What?” he shot back. Terrified as to what she might have found. Who knows what crazy shit people living in the sticks kept in their cars!
And it wasn’t like he could get a good look. With hairpin twists and turns, the drive down Kringle Mountain was not for the faint of heart.
“It’s a map! A map will tell us where to go!” she exclaimed as if she’d stumbled upon the Holy Grail.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what a map is for, Bridget.”
