Read Online Kentucky Christmas by Sarah Title - Free Book Online Page B

have to tell her that, though, because she had hung up before he could say anything.
    He wandered slowly back down the hall, to where things were quiet and sleep-warmed and nobody was related to him. Billie was still curled up in bed, her penguin shoulder peeking out from under the quilt. PeeWee had left her perch on the dresser, but Sniffer had taken advantage of Andrew’s absence and was curled up, half-under the quilt, on his side of the bed.
    â€œHey, dog,” he whispered. “That’s my spot.”
    Sniffer shifted, and huffed, and sniffed Andrew’s face. Billie stirred, rubbing her eyes and swatting Sniffer’s tail out of her face.
    â€œDog—” she started, then noticed Andrew standing at the foot of the bed.
    â€œOh. Hi.”
    â€œHi,” he said, crawling toward her.
    â€œYou’re still here.”
    â€œDid you want me to go?”
    â€œAbsolutely not,” she said, pushing Sniffer out of her face. Then she wrapped her arms around Andrew, and he was pulled down to her. He wiggled under the covers, and she wrapped her legs around him. It was cold out. He needed her to warm him.

Chapter 9
    â€œMore shiny crap?” he asked, opening a box.
    â€œOh, good. I was looking for these!” Billie pulled out her favorite decorations: one string of flamingo lights and a box of Christmas rubber duckies. This was almost all that remained of the ironically tacky phase of her late teens.
    â€œRubber duckies?”
    â€œWe have to put these up high. Diablo thinks they’re chew toys.” She slid the box out to the Bring Downstairs pile. “Ha, I bet he thought I wouldn’t find them!”
    â€œDiablo?”
    â€œMy dad hates the flamingoes. Every year he hides them in a different box, hoping I won’t find them to put them up the next year. And every year I’ve foiled him. Ha!”
    â€œBut he always hides them with the other Christmas stuff?”
    Andrew carefully studied whatever was in the box in front of him, but she swore she saw him smile.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou guys are cute with your traditions.”
    â€œHmph.”
    â€œLike these flamingo lights. Which are amazing, by the way.”
    At least he had good taste.
    â€œI mean, he hides them in another box of Christmas decorations. Of course you’re going to find them. But every year, he hides them, and every year, you probably make a big deal out of not making a big deal of finding them and putting them up, right?”
    â€œRight.” She blushed. She thought she was the only one who knew.
    He sighed, holding up a blue lamé stocking with a picture of Elvis on it. She couldn’t help but brighten—she’d been looking for that one, too.
    â€œHere’s my family Christmas tradition,” said Andrew. “I pick up my mom, we go to my cousin Ed’s, they both harangue me for not having a job or a girlfriend, his kids eat too much sugar and start whaling on each other, then they get tired of that and start whaling on me, and I always end up hiding in the bathroom.”
    â€œBecause of the whaling?”
    â€œThat, and because I usually drink half a dozen glasses of eggnog.”
    â€œOuch.”
    â€œI told you, it’s a tradition.”
    â€œYou don’t have anything at your house?”
    â€œNope.”
    Billie thought that was sad. She might have had a messed up childhood and a runaway mom, but at least she’d had Christmas.
    For someone who claimed not to care, Andrew was being awfully helpful. And enthusiastic. She probably shouldn’t pay him back by gawking at his butt as he leaned into the opening to the attic that was cut into the ceiling. She shivered, remembering how many muscles he had hidden away under those clothes. She thought probably they should hurry and get these decorations up so she could unwrap him again . . .
    â€œLook out!”
    Billie looked up to see something shiny and metal and vaguely