Page 41 of Christmas Is All Around
“I’ve always had a thing for blondes,” he said, with a sideways glance at her and a hint of a smile.
“How original. You and most of the men on earth.”
“Ah, but the blonde in this film has a sharp tongue, too, andthatreally seems to be the irresistible combination for me.” Now it was her turn to smile, and he flicked a glance at her long enough that she knew he saw it. “But no, I stand by this: it’s a great film.”
“Between this and theBeauty and the Beastreferences, you really could craft yourself into the man of the average millennial woman’s dreams, you know. Do you have thoughts about how hot the fox inRobin Hoodis?”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked incredulously, sounding a bit like a duke from one of Padma’s beloved historical romances. Honestly, it was kind of hot.
“The fox,” she repeated. “Everyone knows he’s the hottest Disney character. There has been lengthy Twitter discourse about it.”
“Are we talking about a metaphorical fox?”
“No, a literal one,” she said, then paused. “Though he’s extremely anthropomorphized, so I’m not really sure how to assign him a proper species category. It’s one of those things you don’t want to think about too hard.”
“Just when I think I understand women, something new confounds me.”
“I’m glad to do my part to keep you on your toes,” she said, suppressing a smile and looking out the window at the passing scenery, which was extremely picturesque at the moment. Rolling green hills. Winding roads. They’d turned off the A road a couple of minutes earlier, and were now driving along the sorts of roads that, in America—well, they wouldn’t exist, because people would not be able to squeeze two oversized SUVs down them. Even in Graham’s Mini, it felt a bit dicey. But, slight fear for her safety aside, it was all very adorable. There were even sheep! A whole flock of sheep! A rather large flock of sheep, actually. And was it her imagination, or did they seem to be—
Graham slammed on the brakes. “For fuck’s sake.”
“There aresomany of them,” Charlotte said as she watched the spectacle unfolding before her. “Like,somany.”
There were, truly, an astonishing number of sheep. It looked to her (entirely untrained and lacking in any shepherding knowledge whatsoever) eye to be an entire flock of sheep, all of whom needed to cross the road precisely where she and Graham were attempting to drive.
“This is the problem with going to the countryside,” he muttered darkly, shifting into neutral and pulling up the hand brake. “Goddamn sheep everywhere.”
“They’re very fleecy,” Charlotte said, impressed. She was not what you might call a nature girl, but shewasan appreciator of anice sweater. She wondered if she could find a friendly farmer and convince him to shear a sheep just for her.
“That’s the idea, yes,” Graham said. He glanced in the mirror. “I wonder if we’re better off turning around—”
“Baaaa!” came an excited bleat from behind them. Veryclosebehind them. Charlotte craned around in her seat as best she could manage.
“Hello, sir,” she said, nodding coolly at the sheep who was now peering in through the rear window of the Mini. “Or ma’am, I suppose. You’re not a ram. Don’t want to misgender anyone.”
“Very considerate. Do you think you could politely ask her to get the fuck out of the way so I can reverse the car?” Graham asked.
“Um,” Charlotte said.
“Baaa!” “Baaa!” “Baaa!”
“I don’t think so,” she said, unclicking her seat belt so that she could fully rise up onto her knees, pushing down the headrest so that she could rest her chin atop it. “She seems to have a lot of friends, and it would appear they’ve chosen this spot to have a catch-up.”
“Where’s the bloody farmer?” Graham muttered irately, giving up and turning the car off. It was obvious they were going to be here for a while. “Can’t he come herd them?”
“Why don’t you give it a try?” Charlotte asked sweetly. “Wholesome country boy that you are?”
“Why don’tyou?” he shot back. “Since you seem to be on such good terms with them?”
“They have trouble understanding my accent,” she said somberly. “A tragic tale of cross-cultural miscommunication.”
“That would honestly make half of the conversationsIhave with you make more sense.”
“Do they send out a book to all young English lads at a certain age? How to act like you’ve got an enormous stick up your ass?”
“Baaaa!” said a sheep outside her window, a bit severely.
“I don’t think it liked your language,” Graham said smugly.
