Chapter Fourteen
Ding dong! Awkwardly on high...
Ivy
I m happy to report that my weird symptoms are nearly gone by the time I pull the last basket from the truck bed.
Part of the reason may be because Beau got wrangled into helping an elderly lady track down her missing cat in a basement that can only be described as a hoarder s delight, leaving me to deliver the last several baskets on my own.
I double check the notepaper Beau gave me with the list of addresses. Rob s handwriting wouldn t win any penmanship contests, but it looks like this last basket goes to the cute yellow bungalow with the multicolored bulbs wrapped around the front two windows.
Perfect. Since it s close to where Beau parked the truck, this should only take a minute.
The last rays of daylight paint the snow-covered walkway in a pinkish glow as I tromp to the porch.
I m about to knock a few seconds later when the front door swings open and a woman wearing reindeer antlers who obviously wasn t expecting me clutches her chest and mutters, Mary and Joseph, you scared me, under her breath, then Can I help you? as she regains her composure.
Before I can answer, her gaze lands on the basket in my arms, her gaze widening as she takes in the giant ham and canned goods in the center, surrounded by snacks, gift cards, candles, and fuzzy socks.
I smile. Merry—
Are you kidding me? she yells over her shoulder, drowning out the rest of my Christmas greeting as her antlers bob on her head. Oh, nothing to worry about? Everything s fine, is it?
I freeze, not sure what to do. Especially when she continues yelling over her shoulder. You lost your job, didn t you?
Uh-oh. Maybe we should ve brought more than one basket for this house.
A clean-shaven man with a dark crewcut hobbles to the doorway in a pair of gray sweats and a long-sleeved red flannel shirt. What s this all about? he says, eyeing the basket. Who are you? he says, eyeing me.
Antler Head punches his shoulder. Who do you think it is? It s Miss Charity Lady from the church.
Ivy, I say since I m sure Miss Charity Lady from the church will become a mouthful in no time.
Why didn t you tell me you got fired, Troy?
That s a nice-looking ham, Troy says, peering into the basket as he massages his lower back.
Troy. Antler Head slaps his hand when he reaches for the basket.
What? Calm down. I didn t get fired. I m only missing a few days because of my back. Ooh... He steps out onto the porch and lifts a candle to his nose. Is that gingerbread?
He dodges another slap from Antler Head and has apparently decided to use me as a body shield, because I suddenly find myself trapped between them with nowhere to go. Antler Head is blocking the doorway into the house and Gingerbread-loving Troy is blocking my exit off the porch.
If you didn t get fired, then why d the church send a lady to our house with a basket full of socks and—and—and— She yanks out a can, waving it much too close for comfort next to my head. Green beans!
I duck a bit as Troy as says, How should I know? Maybe the church was just being nice.
With green beans and fuzzy slipper socks?
I think I m ready to go help Beau look for the cat. So should I just leave the basket here, or...?
Don t play dumb with me, Troy, Antler Head says, ignoring me as I slowly crouch between them with the basket. What else aren t you telling me? What other secrets are you hiding?
Troy grunts. Cuz you re one to talk.
What s that supposed to mean?
You re pregnant again, aren t you?
I freeze, mid-squat.
You know? I hear Antler Head whisper above my head to the left.
Of course I know, I hear Troy whisper above me to the right.
And now I know. Wonderful. Is this a good time to attempt an inconspicuous crab walk off the porch all the way to Beau s truck?
You re not mad? Antler Head s legs press against my left shoulder.
Why would I be mad? Now Troy s legs are sandwiching me in from the right. How is this my life right now? You know this is the best Christmas gift I ever could ve asked for.
But we said we weren t going to try again until—
Who cares what we said? Since when has anything ever gone like we said it would? It ll be okay. Whatever happens, we re going to be okay. You know that.
Ivy? I hear Beau s voice call out. What are you doing?
Other than giving my thigh muscles one of the most strenuously awkward workouts they ve ever experienced? I have no idea.
This house isn t on the list, I hear Beau say as I unwedge my shoulders from between the newly expecting parents kneecaps and scramble back to my feet.
He must ve found the cat. A new scratch lines Beau s cheek next to his dimple, which is making a big appearance as he climbs the porch steps. Hey, Troy. Misty. How s it going?
Great, says Troy. Misty s pregnant.
And Troy didn t lose his job, thank the Lord, says Misty.
Well, hey, that s great. Congratulations, Beau says, shaking Troy s hand and patting Misty on the shoulder. Would you like a candle or something?
The gingerbread one would be nice, says Troy.
Sure. Keep the socks, too. Sorry about the basket confusion. Beau gives me a look like Why were you popping a squat between two people trying to have an intimate conversation? I look back at him like, Sometimes weird things just happen, okay?
Misty uses the socks to wipe her nose as she sniffles. So are you two together or something?
No, I say the same moment Beau wraps an arm around my shoulders and says, You could say that.
Except you shouldn t say that since we re not together. I slip out of Beau s arm and retrieve the basket off the porch floor before this delivery gets any stranger and all my weird symptoms return.
Some people have been known to say we re engaged. Isn t that right, Ivy? Beau gives me a playful bump with his elbow.
Ivy? Misty gives me a closer look. Wait. You re not the nurse who saved Beau s life, are you?
No, I say the same moment Beau wraps an arm around my shoulders and says, You could say that.
You two seem to be on the same page about as well as Misty and me most days, Troy says, taking another appreciative sniff of the gingerbread candle.
You look awful cute together, adds Misty. Sure you re not a couple?
Oh believe me, I m sure, I say. Though I m a little less sure why I haven t moved away from Beau s arm again. Because it s cold. And my thigh muscles are still recovering. I need his warmth and support. But mostly I just need to get off this porch.
She has these big plans to marry a nice boring teacher after she turns thirty, Beau says, relieving me of the basket with his free hand.
Misty snorts. Yeah, I remember having big plans for the type of guy I thought I wanted to marry, too. Then along came Bozo here. Out went those plans, she says, tilting her face up for a quick kiss.
It s all that sweet talking she does, Troy says, leaning down for another kiss. How could any man resist that?
I drop my gaze when their next kiss doesn t stop. Pretty sure that s our cue to go. Beau must think so too, because he clears his throat and says, Well, Merry Christmas, guys, and guides me off the porch with his arm still draped over my shoulders.
Did that PDA back there give you any ideas? says Beau, as we tromp though the snow toward the correct house for the last basket delivery.
Not a single one.
Because in the spirit of Christmas, I would be very open-minded about any ideas it gave you. This is the season of giving after all. I d be more than happy to give you a kiss if that s the sort of idea you re having right now.
I m one-hundred-percent idea free. But I am getting overheated again. Now might be a great time to step out from Beau s arm.
Especially when he drops his mouth close to my ear and murmurs, If you ever want to hear my ideas, just let me know. I ve got a lot of good ones when it comes to you.