Free Kentucky Christmas by Sarah Title Page A

holding her hand and leaning toward her across a sea of homemade, kitschy Christmas decorations. She’d let him think he would call, but she wouldn’t wait for it. She’d let him go, and she’d have Christmas with her dad, with the Carsons, with her friends, and her family. And eventually, probably by the time she turned eighty-five and forgot her own name, she’d forget about the time this cute hipster guy in slim-fit pants with big glasses and hidden muscles under his shirt made her feel really, really good. For now, though, she’d let him believe this wasn’t the end.
    She reached for his glasses and as she pulled them off, he cupped her face. They leaned in toward each other and she closed her eyes, memorizing the feel of his lips on hers, running her hands down those secret shoulders one last time.
    â€œThank you for everything.”
    She smiled up at him. God, she would miss him.
    â€œI’ll call you when I get there,” he said, placing a quick peck on her lips. “And on the way, too.”
    â€œOK. Don’t call me while you’re driving, though. I don’t want you crashing into someone else’s bar.”
    He laughed. “Maybe I’ll come back in the spring. Or you can come to New York. New Year’s Eve or something.”
    â€œSure,” she said, and kissed him one last time.

Chapter 10
    As Andrew pulled out of town, he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. A fine rain was washing the snow away, and he didn’t want to go skidding into one of the houses on the side of the road. They looked much less sturdy than the Cold Spot, and besides, they looked so pretty with their twinkling lights and baubles. Even those gigantic inflatable snowmen looked whimsical.
    He hated those snowmen.
    Well, a few days ago he hated those snowmen. He carefully turned on the GPS, because he had already forgotten the directions back to the interstate that Bud had given him. The sun was just setting, and Andrew figured if he drove straight through, he would get home about the same time as his mom got done with the store. Plenty of time. He would get home in plenty of time for his mother to sleep in, for them not to exchange presents, and to have a horrible time at Ed and Tina’s. Maybe this year would be different, he thought. Maybe this year he would appreciate the oversized tree and excessive presents for the kids. Maybe this year he wouldn’t be bothered by the smug, superior look on Ed’s face when he brought in his pitiful sales numbers. Maybe Ed would be proud of him for making some progress.
    Maybe he would only drink one glass of eggnog.
    Andrew stopped at a T and wondered what Billie was doing right now. She was probably just finally able to pick herself up off the floor after the devastation of his leaving. No, even at his most cynical, he knew that wasn’t true. She was probably making hot cocoa for homeless squirrels and organizing a choir of lonely senior citizens who would fall in love with each other and get a new lease on life.
    That wasn’t fair, either. That wasn’t even funny. What had this girl done to him that even his own cynical jokes weren’t funny to him?
    He bet he knew what she was doing. She was wearing some ridiculous Christmas outfit that would still look really hot on her. She was exchanging presents with her dad—just one, that was the tradition—and then she would put antlers on the dogs and let them out one last time before she settled in to watch bad Christmas movies. Which she thought were good Christmas movies.
    He pictured her snuggled in front of the fire. She was probably wearing antlers of her own, her hands curled around a mug of hot chocolate. He bet she made it with whole milk and real cocoa.
    His GPS beeped, telling him to make a right for County Road 23 West.
    â€œWest?” he said to the non-human GPS. “I need to go west to get east?”
    The GPS just blinked. 23