Read Online Kentucky Christmas by Sarah Title - Free Book Online

milk.
    â€œAnd now that I know, I’m not sure I should ever retire.”
    â€œDad!” She handed him his mug and he blew across the top of it.
    â€œBut you’re a grown woman. I’ve been treating you like an adult, but I still think of you as my little girl. Does that make sense?”
    â€œDad, I’ll always be—”
    â€œNo, no. You’ll always, always be my daughter. But you’re not my little girl anymore. You haven’t been for a long time. I just didn’t want to see it. But I’ll try, OK?”
    â€œOK. Thanks, Dad.”
    â€œGood,” he said, setting down his mug. “So, if you’re not my little girl anymore, I can go return those Christmas presents I bought you.”
    â€œHa. Nice try.”
    He stood up, enveloped her in that big Dad-hug of his. She would never get too old for that.
    â€œGo back to your young man. I’ll clean up here. No, don’t say anything else. In fact, the less we talk about that, the better.”
    â€œGood night, Dad.”
    â€œGood night, sweet girl.”
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    Andrew woke up when the bed shifted. He thought maybe it was the cat—he’d woken up several times in the night to find PeeWee sitting at a different post near the bed, staring at him. But no, even in his barely awake haze, he could tell it was Billie. Cinnamon. Warm. Clothed?
    â€œYou OK?” he asked, though he wondered if she heard, his voice was so groggy.
    â€œYeah, sorry to wake you,” she whispered, crawling into his arms.
    â€œYou didn’t . . .” Andrew started to say.
    And then Andrew was blinking against the morning light streaming through the curtains. It took him a second to recognize his surroundings—unfamiliar wallpaper, cat staring at him, warm weight against his side. Then he remembered. Kentucky, PeeWee, Billie. Billie’s hair and arms were splayed across his chest and she was wearing flannel pajamas with penguins on them. Penguins in Santa hats. Why wasn’t she naked? He was naked. She’d been naked when they finally went to sleep. He should probably try to fix that.
    There was a faint buzzing coming from a room down the hall. It sounded like an alarm clock, but . . . familiar. Like . . . Mariah Carey? Crap, his cell phone. Eddie had gotten hold of it before Andrew went on the road and changed his ring tone to that grating, overplayed cheesefest “All I Want for Christmas is You.”
    And Andrew would never admit it in a million years under pain of torture, but he kind of liked that song. It was catchy, dammit.
    But his phone was ringing, he was in Kentucky with a woman who’d been naked when he went to sleep, and his pants were under a very angry cat. He grabbed Billie’s robe—red and green plaid—and slunk next door to the guest room. It had stopped ringing, but he knew if he waited a second . . .
    When Mariah Carey started up again, he dug his phone out of the pocket of his messenger bag.
    â€œHi, Mom.”
    â€œWhere are you, young man?”
    He sighed. Young man. That meant he was in trouble. Not as much trouble as when she called him Andrew, and certainly not as much as Andrew Joseph. But when she called him “young man,” she was definitely displeased.
    â€œI’m in Kentucky.”
    â€œKentucky! What are you doing in Kentucky?”
    Andrew shut the bedroom door, as if his mother’s shouting would wake the whole house. “I told you, Mom, I’m on a sales trip for Ed.”
    â€œEddie told me you would be back in plenty of time for Christmas. That’s tomorrow.”
    â€œI know. I ran into some car trouble.” He didn’t need to tell her that he ran into a bar.
    â€œFine. I’ll manage without you.”
    â€œI thought you were getting help for the store. That’s what you said before I left.”
    â€œI hired some college kid. She had no idea what she was doing. Eddie’s been helping me. He