Page 76 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
“You like fast cars,” he said sounding surprised.
“Who doesn’t?”
“So, what do you think about the new Boxter?”
“Mmmm, that car is hella fine. Even better than the 911. Impractical though.” It was sad to admit, but true. Impractical cars were her weakness. And maybe impractical men.
“Impractical is the spice of life,” he grinned at her, unaware of the turn her thoughts had taken.
Her gaze stuttered away from him. “Anyway, we gotta find the stuffing.”
Carrie turned right, pulling the cart with her and glad to get a few minutes alone. She wasnotaware of his every move again, like back in high school. He wasnotexciting, she told her libido sternly as she moved past bins of plastic pumpkins and the shelves of you-paint-it wooden signs. It was the situation,nothis stupid, crooked smile in the store’s nighttime security lighting.
The décor section melded into seasonal and she passed a discount rack of country themed merch featuring cowboy hats, boots, orange plaid bows and the phrase, “Happy Fall, Y’All!” all over everything. No wonder it was on clearance. Where did Tracey think they were, anyway, the heart of Texas?
The country kitsch throw pillows made Carrie think she was on the right track, until she found herself in a stand of fake Christmas trees, lit and twinkling in the dark store. The shelving cart’s wheels got stuck on the fake, cottony snow on the side of the path.
Just as she was bending over to free the wheels from the sparkly fluff, which maybe she could use, if necessary? She heard a loud whisper behind her.
“Ppssst! Carrie!”
Even knowing logically that it had to be Buck, Carrie stumbled, and it was in that moment that someoneelsemoved, someone only a few feet in front of her. Carrie jumped with a shriek and punched out on instinct at a short figure that had been hiding in the dark. Whoever it was chose that moment to flip on lights, grab at Carrie, make a horrible racket, and . . . gyrate at her.
Oh my God! She was being attacked! Carrie fought back on instinct, landing another punch that hit a cheek that did not feel like skin. Was he wearing a mask? But the man, significantly shorter than her own unremarkable height, kept coming at her with those obscene hip movements. She kicked him right between the legs, that’ll teach him! . . . And he sailed backward like he weighed almost nothing, into the stand of fake trees. Uh, what? She watched in horror as they toppled, like giant, twinkling dominoes. Her attacker was now on his back, struggling . . . rhythmically? And . . . singing . . . Elvis?
It took Carrie several long moments to understand that she’d unknowingly triggered and fallen into the gyrating embrace of a life-sized dancing Santa. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” poured from its tinny speakers.
“What the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks!” Carrie yelled, finally extricating herself from the fake sparkle snow entangling her feet to turn and glare at Buck who was doubled over laughing.
“This is NOT funny!”
He clutched at his sides. “Yeah, it is,” he gasped, looking like he was about to cry. “So good.” Gasp. “You should have seen your face!” Gasp. “Plus, all that and you still can’t swear!”
“I work in a children’s toy store!” she hissed, unable to come up with any other explanation for her pathological inability to curse. She grabbed the nearest tree, half its twinkle lights not working now, and slammed the bedraggled thing back upright.
She was grumpily trying to coax it to stand on its own when Buck took her arm and turned her toward him.
“It’s cute.”
She snorted her disbelief and began to turn away. He touched her chin gently to bring her back. His face was serious, sincere.
“No, it's really cute. You keep surprising me with how adorable you are. You don't know how refreshing that is in my line of work.”
Santa Elvis chose that moment to slow his floor show and started crooning, “I’ll, uh have, uh uh a blue . . . Christmas . . . without you.”
“Oh, geeze.” Carrie couldn’t help it. She joined Buck in laughing till tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped at them with her palms to observe the hopeless wreckage around her. Poor Tracey. First Halloween, and now someone had broken into her store and decimated her meticulous Christmas display.Someone.
After a minute, still laughing weakly, she found herself standing a smidge too close. She caught her breath and froze, looking up to see the twinkle lights reflecting in his eyes from the fallen trees. His laughter faded to softness as he gazed down at her and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her.
But instead, he swallowed and stepped back, lifting her cart out of the mess for her and putting it back down on a clear section of aisle. “Let’s get what we need and get out of here before someone calls the cops, huh?”
Buck, it turned out, had found the sewing section, which must have been near the candles because it smelled strongly of pumpkin spice again. At least they were out of the faux evergreen section. Without all the sparkle lights of the Christmas trees, it was hard to see any more than the pillowy shapes of plastic bags of stuffing as they packed as much as they could into the rolling carts.
“Out of curiosity,” he broke their companionable silence as they rolled the carts back through the warehouse to the backdoor, “what were you thinking so hard about earlier? At your station in the Toys-A-Lot warehouse when you stopped pulling the goods out of the toys? I thought you were flipping, gonna rat us out to the fuzz the first chance you got, but that wasn’t it, was it?”
Carrie stiffened. She wasn’t going to tell him. Nope, that was none of his business. But then she glanced over at him and saw his cajoling, handsome face in the dim light.
Oh, fine, what the heck?
