immediately. Thankfully, the bags are already on top of the belt. I sigh when I notice there’s not one but four flower-embroidered bags approaching us.
“Can you hold this for a moment?” I hand her the cooler. “Let me pick up the bags, and then we can organize ourselves.”
“They are colorful.” Audrey sounds a little in awe. Instead of taking the cooler by the handle, she grabs it by the bottom as if it was a small child.
“Just like my mother.” I get ready to snag the bags.
They’re heavier than I anticipated. Knowing Betsy Bradford, she’s carrying about a dozen presents for her grandchild.
I grab the first two, set them next to Audrey, and then chase the other two. As I snatch the fourth one, I see a guy pulling his luggage from the corner of my eye.
Audrey’s peeking inside the icebox, so she isn’t aware of her surroundings. It’s as if I’m watching an accident on the television, and they’ve set it on slow motion.
The man swings his arm high and with too much force. His elbow knocks the edge of the cooler, and Audrey loses her balance.
I try to reach her before she falls, but I’m too late. She’s landed on the floor, and Mom’s marinara sauce is no longer on the spaghetti, but on her . . . along with the meatballs.
“Are you okay?” I hurry toward her.
She looks at her turtleneck and her jeans. “I think so?”
“You have trouble with gravity,” I say, pulling her to me. “You look cute in red, but try another shade next time.”
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she growls.
I can’t resist the temptation. Cleaning the spaghetti noodles from her shoulder, I caress her cheek and bend, kissing her. It’s only a taste, and it intensifies the thirst I have for her.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“Yeah.” She stares at my mouth. “I think so.”
Everything goes downhill from there.
Audrey gets kicked out of the B&B. She forgot to extend her stay, and all the rooms are reserved. She’d looked at me skeptically when my brother called to deliver the news, but said nothing. I was grateful not to have to explain why there’d been practically no guests during her stay so far, and now it was fully booked.
Morgan picked up her bags, but her clothes are at the cleaners, and the only thing she can wear while her clothes are in the washer is the unicorn onesie.
“I can’t go downstairs like this,” she says, staring at the washer. “Why did I listen to you?”
“Now it’s my fault?”
“You told me to leave my coat in the car, that it wasn’t that cold,” she claims.
“It was warm,” I say. “Who knew you’d want to take a shower with marinara sauce.”
She runs a hand through her wet hair. “Thank you for letting me take a real shower. I . . . what am I going to do now?”
Perry suggested she stay for a slumber party, and though I’d love to have Audrey crash with us—in my bed—I think it’s best if she goes to my parents' house. It’ll be safer. Won't it?
Chapter Sixteen
Audrey
This is the nightmare before Christmas.
And I’m dressed like a unicorn.
It’s different when it’s by choice. Getting looks from strangers in an airport doesn’t bother me, but the parents of the man I’m . . . I’m what? Dating? No. Sleeping with? That only happened once, so a big fat no. Hanging out with? That’s about the best assessment, though it feels . . . off.
“In case you haven’t noticed, everyone is pretty taken with the unicorn.” Colin’s deep rasp in my ear makes me wish we could move the status of our relationship firmly into the sleeping-with-multiple-times column.
And does he mean he’s taken with me?
Obviously, his brothers are. It only took a day to fix the coffee situation at the B&B, and Morgan promises he’s called in a favor to get the parts to my rental car fast and cheap. Except they’re still not here.
Maybe he doesn’t have as much pull as he thinks he does.
None of them do at the B&B. I can’t believe I forgot to extend my stay. I’m usually organized down to the letter, but for the past few days, I’ve been . . . distracted.
I’m not sure how I feel about crashing with Colin’s parents. Fish and guests stink after three days. I don’t want to stink.
“Audrey?” Colin’s face is full of concern. “I promise no one cares what you’re wearing.” He wraps his arms around me. “They’ll probably make fun