Page 42 of Missiletoe
I zeroed in on a pair made from recycled silk. It was a million shades of blue, all in jewel tones, and I fell in love on sight. Paris followed my gaze and took them from the display. He put them on me, but they were way too big and fell right off when I put my hands down.
I made a sad little sound, and Paris started rifling through the display until he found a smaller pair made from the same yarn. When he put those on me, they were a perfect fit.
I wiggled my fingers in joy, but the mittens didn’t feel as good as being encased in Paris’s hands did.
He was so warm.
“We should get you a sweater too. I’m sorry I forgot to let you grab one before we left.” When Paris turned away to find the sweaters, I grabbed the mittens that had been too big for me and stuffed them in my pockets all sneaky-like.
I trotted to catch up as Paris made his way to the sweater section, and I swear I wasn’t trying to, but my hand snaked out to grab Paris’s as soon as he got into range. Instead of saying anything, he just gave me the softest smile and squeezed my little hand. His was so big I could barely see my fingertips, and I went from slightly chilly to boiling hot in a flash.
“Do you want a matching sweater?” Paris pointed to another jewel-toned blue sweater, but I shook my head.
I reached for the small, light blue one that matched the color of Paris’s sweater. I don’t think he noticed, but Paris was hard to read. I had a feeling that he came off as a simple, unobservant person to most people, but he didn’t seem that way to me at all.
I mean, he had a magic dog and a mouse army, so, yes, there was definitely more than met the eyes when it came to Paris.
I wanted to knoweverything.
Especially about that Sylvia bitch. She sounded like a serious hoebag.
Not that there is anything wrong with hoebags. Maybe I should call her something else. How about homewrecker?
So what if she came first? Paris came tomyhouse, so he was mine. My house. My rules.
“So about this Sylvia person…” was what I was about to say, until I saw the softest yarn in existence. It was the same shade as my eyes, which meant Paris needed the color in scarf form so he’d always have a reminder of me.
I sneakily wandered away from Paris without a word and grabbed two skeins of it. Then I filled my arms with the supplies necessary to make Paris a scarf. I even found sparkly snowflake beads!
Other than yarn and beads, I already had everything at home that I’d need to knit a scarf, but I wasn’t going back there tonight, and since I didn’t want to wait to get started on it, I got everything then.
Once I was done, I headed for the door, calling, “I’m all done, Paris. Let’s go get hot chocolate!” I wasn’t sure how I’d drink it with my arms full. Maybe I should have grabbed a bag too.
Spotting a handmade one next to the door, I grabbed it and started stuffing my loot into it. When I made to leave, a large hand closed over my upper arm.
“Bunny, you have to pay first.”
I looked up to see Paris staring down at me with amused patience.
“It’s okay. I don’t have to pay. Gareth will pay for me.” I said, patting the hand on my arm.
Gareth had gotten tired of bailing me out of jail because I kept forgetting to pay, so he’d set up a tab for me with all the retailers in town. He’d even gotten my record expunged. Gareth was good like that.
Paris lost his soft expression, going from adon’t I have the cutest bunnyface to aI’d like to kill someone nowface. It was a good look on him.
It probably would have been scary if it had been pointed at me, but I didn’t think it was. I mean, he wasn’t even looking at me. I thought he was looking in the direction of my house for some reason.
“I’ll pay for you,” Paris said grumpily, and I had to say, grumpy was a good look on him too. I didn’t think any emotion would look bad on him.
Actually, to this day, I have yet to find one. Jesus, my man is hot. Where was I? Oh right.
“Wait,” I said, “I’ll do it.” I couldn’t make Paris buy his own gift. Then it wouldn’t be me giving him a gift, it would be me acting as his personal shopper.
I fished around in my pocket for my phone. I didn’t carry money because I’d just lose it, but I’d never lose my phone. It was like a third arm to me.
I looked at what I had in my hands and figured four hundred dollars would suffice, but on the off chance I was underestimating, I added two hundred more. Then I did a quick search and found the Yarn Lady’s store bank account and transferred the money into it, figuring that would be enough. I paused and then added another hundred just in case.
I had no clue how much yarn cost these days, or anything, for that matter. It had been years since I’d paid attention to prices for things. Back when we had no money, Baz and I just stole everything we needed. Once we were loaded, Baz still stole the things we needed, or I wandered from shop-to-shop grabbing stuff, and Gareth settled up with the shop owners at the end of the week.
