Free Kentucky Christmas by Sarah Title

green headed for her head. Then she was jerked off her feet and trapped under something heavy, but not unpleasantly so.
    â€œYou OK? Did you hit your head?”
    She looked up into Andrew’s blue eyes, felt his hands roughly checking her face, her hair.
    â€œYes, I’m fine,” she said, starting to swat away his hands. Then she stopped. She kind of liked his hands. “What was that?”
    â€œI was going to ask you the same thing.” He sat up a little, keeping a hand gently on her shoulder. She accepted his help sitting up and looked at what had, apparently, nearly killed her.
    â€œOh, that’s Katie’s wreath. I usually wait until the last minute to hang it up.”
    â€œI can see why,” he said, fingering the flowers made out of aluminum cans. “What kind of soda is this?”
    â€œAle 8-One. A Kentucky original.”
    She saw him thinking it over. “It makes an ugly wreath.”
    â€œI know. But it’s the only craft Katie has ever successfully completed in her life, so I feel like I should honor that accomplishment. And I know she gets a kick out of seeing it hung up every year, even though she pretends not to.”
    â€œWell, it almost killed you,” he said, tossing the can-wreath aside.
    â€œHey! Be careful with that!”
    â€œYou care more about that wreath than you do about your health. You must be sick,” he said, leaning toward her.
    Billie saw the sparkle in his eyes, brighter than any of the lights blinking in the living room. “Very,” she said, leaning back until she was flat on the ground.
    â€œVery,” he agreed, coming over her. His hand tangled in her hair. He whispered something she couldn’t make out but Billie smiled anyway, until his mouth came down on hers, gently, just the way she liked. She ran her hands down his back, over his jeans, and squeezed. God, he was cute. This was all she wanted for Christmas.
    Mariah Carey agreed, but then she started to go off the beat of Billie’s Christmas mix. Was her MP3 player skipping? Andrew could probably fix it.
    â€œDammit,” he said, resting his forehead on hers. Then he rolled up and pulled the phone out of his jeans pocket.
    â€œOh, hey,” he said. Then he stood up, nodded tensely. “Today? Are you sure? OK. OK, thanks.” He sat back down on the floor and picked up her hand.
    â€œCar’s ready.”
    â€œOh,” she said. Already? Bud never worked that fast.
    â€œBud said he wanted to make sure I got home for Christmas.”
    â€œYou don’t do Christmas.”
    Andrew laughed weakly. “I don’t. Not at home, anyway.”
    â€œWhen do you have to go?”
    â€œSoon. Now. Bud said he would stay open for a little while longer.”
    â€œHe probably wants to get home for Christmas Eve. He has a new granddaughter. I’m surprised he’s even open today.”
    â€œYeah, that was really nice of him.”
    If it was so nice, Billie thought, why did she want to punch Bud in his hillbilly beard?
    â€œCan I call you? I mean, I would like to call you, if that’s OK.”
    Andrew was still holding her hand. She looked down at it. She still couldn’t look at his face.
    â€œAll the way from New York?”
    â€œYeah. I mean, if you’ve got a string that long. Of course from New York. Maybe you can come visit. I’ll take you around to Rockefeller Center and Fifth Avenue and all of that holiday tourist crap.”
    She looked up at him.
    â€œSorry, not crap. I mean, tourist things. Christmas things that I think you’ll like. You’ll like New York.”
    He was so cute, and he looked like he really meant it. He was so sweet he probably thought he meant it. But Billie was under no illusions that he was going to get home to New York and remember anything interesting about his time in Hollow Bend. There was just no way.
    But he looked really sincere behind those glasses, and he was