AllFreeNovel
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Surprise? Check.
Lust? Absolutely.
Although I’d rather gnaw on my own tongue than confess such a thing.
My enjoyment of his touchiness has me speaking first. “If you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask.”
The comment snaps him out of whatever daze he was in, and he pulls away. I mourn the loss of his touch as he tucks his card inside his wallet without looking me in the eyes.
“You can wait in the truck while I load your stuff in the back.” He dismisses me without so much as a second glance, and I climb back into the cabin with a huff.
Hewas the one who felt me up.
Yeah, well, you were the one wholikedit.
Julian and I hit a local big box store next. The clothing selection is grim, with me shuddering in my sneakers as I choose the most unattractive pair of flannel PJs, underwear with the days of the week plastered across the back, and a pair of paint-splattered jeans that would send the fashion police into full SWAT mode.
Julian gives me free rein over picking his clothes while he chats with Sam about a few things regarding next week’s work schedule. I have a blast putting together the ugliest outfit for him, which he immediately rejects.
I pout. “I’m offended you don’t trust me.”
“No amount of trust in the world could convince me to wear those jeans.” He frowns at the acid wash denim fit for an eighties music video.
“If you had your way, you’d wear plain ones and a black T-shirt.”
He lifts his full basket of clothes in the air. “Exactly.”
Ugh.“I’m going to put all this back.” I head back toward the men’s section with my cart, only to become distracted by the Christmas section near the checkout lanes.
Most of my holidays became opportunities for the Creswells and their agent to show off my design skills by having me make curated collections to be featured in magazines and social media pages. And while I love coming up with new ways to reinvent holiday classics, I can’t help getting caught up in the nostalgic decorations lining the shelves.
Vibrant tinsel. Novelty ornaments. Multicolored C9 light bulbs. Everything about this holiday display reminds me of my childhood, and I want to take part in it without worrying about designing something perfect or aesthetically pleasing.
I want to havefun.
After struggling with intense sadness and chronic numbness for the last few months, I plan on clinging to my excitement and riding the high for as long as humanly possible.
Like a child with no self-control, I throw random objects into my cart. Tinsel shiny enough to blind someone. A nutcracker drinking a beer in a tropical shirt. Packages of themed ornaments that will no doubt clash with each other.
I go through each row, throwing whatever makes me laugh into the cart. At first, my haul was easy to navigate with one arm, but now I struggle to push it forward with all the added weight.
My neck prickles, and I turn to find Julian walking up to me.
“Is all this for that Christmas tree you bought for me?” He takes over manning the cart.
“On second thought, I think I’ll keep the tree. We can’t have you ruining your Ebenezer Scrooge image or anything.”
“No.”
My eyes widen. “You want the tree?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Jerk.
