Page 18 of A Cowboy's Twinkling Lights Lasso
The clapping, whistles, and shouts of appreciation sweep through the space. My brother’s attention is pulled away from his latest victim as he scans the growing chaotic scene.
“What in the jingle bells is happening here?” Mayor Thomas meets me at the December station. The corners of his mouth are turned sharply downward. “Where have you been?”
I glance at my outfit. “Wardrobe change.”
“We didn’t schedule wardrobe changes during the photo shoot.” His face flushes a deep crimson. “Look at your lineup.”
I glance over my shoulder and nod at the waiting women. “Afternoon, ladies. Sorry about the wait.”
They wave, giggle, and nudge each other while assuring me the wait was acceptable.
I face the mayor. “They don’t mind the wait.”
“You have slowed the entire production, and the dinner is included in their photo package, which you cowboys accompany. It is precisely at seven tonight. You’ve left little time after cleanup to get ready for supper.”
“Well, then, Mayor, get outta Thorn’s way so we can thin this lineup,” Flora smirks as she loops her arm in his and spinshim in the opposite direction, giving him a light shove. “Let’s do this,” she excitedly whispers to me. “Next!” She practically bounces back to her camera.
The next three hours fly by. At one point, Flora loops a string of lights around my legs, promising a whimsical look. The more women I dip, the tighter the lights tangle my legs.
Mayor Thomas was correct, and our station is a good hour late. The other stations have already closed and left for the night. The swag bags, pre-decorated cookies, and glasses of wine were handed out to the ladies in our lineup to speed up the process.
Somehow, the more cheesy pickup lines I throw out, the longer the ladies want to interact until the mayor gives us the keys, shuts off the overhead lights, and tells us we’re the last two volunteers and lock up when our lineup finishes. Surprisingly, we managed to chase away the three judges, but I’m sure we’ll see them at supper.
I clear my throat. “If kisses were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard,” I say in my best mysterious tone.
Our last guest’s hearty laughter fills the empty room. “Bless your heart, you cutie patootie.”
Flora escorts the two women out of the ballroom and locks it behind her. “You didn’t have to keep up the cheesy pickup lines after my aunt and the Quylt sisters abandoned us.”
“Why not? She loved it.” I haven’t moved from my spot. “But I am second-guessing this string of lights.” I glance at my legs. “These are quite a tangled mess.” I rub my legs together, but they hardly move.
Flora laughs. “That is your own fault.”
“My fault? How do you figure?”
“You wouldn’t stay in one place. You were by the tree, sitting in the chair, dipping the ladies this way and that.” She stops in front of me. “You turned a little wild that last hour.”
I chuckle. “I reckon I did.”
“It was fun.”
“It was.”
Our gaze holds until she takes a deep breath. “I’ll grab my camera and the keys and turn off the extra lights while you untangle yourself.”
“Sounds good.”
I survey the mess around my legs, and carefully balancing, I bend over and tug at the lights. I deftly work the loops in search of the end. The more I twist and turn, the more the lights mock me. I tug until I sway and teeter, and I swear I’m not further ahead.
“Shit,” I mutter as I scramble to steady myself.
Flora’s warm fingers are around my arms, and electricity jolts through me. “Sit down, and I’ll help you.”
It’s easier said than done. I shuffle awkwardly, throwing in a little hop and slide. I sink into the chair, and the cool material hits me like a refreshing wave.
“Come here, little miss”—I tap my leg—“and tell Santa what you want.”
Her laughter is a soft melody. “Don’t try your cheesy pickup lines on me. They won’t work.” Flora drops to her knees in front of me. The room is pitch black, besides the twinkling lights dancing off her skin.
