Page 23 of A Very Merry Matchup
While I blow my nose, Beau angles his head to the church. “Ready?”
“Please.” I scramble out of the truck. The sooner we deliver these baskets and get a little space between us, the better. Something weird is going on with me, and I can’t seem to diagnose the issue. The worst part? One day in and I’m already starting to worry a full recovery from Beau may not be possible.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ding dong! Awkwardly on high...
Ivy
I’m happy to report that my weird symptoms are nearly gone by the time I pull the last basket from the truck bed. Part of the reason may be because Beau got wrangled into helping an elderly lady track down her missing cat in a basement that can only be described as a hoarder’s delight, leaving me to deliver the last several baskets on my own.
I double check the notepaper Beau gave me with the list of addresses. Rob’s handwriting wouldn’t win any penmanship contests, but it looks like this last basket goes to the cute yellow bungalow with the multicolored bulbs wrapped around the front two windows.
Perfect. Since it’s close to where Beau parked the truck, this should only take a minute.
The last rays of daylight paint the snow-covered walkway in a pinkish glow as I tromp to the porch. I’m about to knock a few seconds later when the front door swings open and a woman wearing reindeer antlers who obviously wasn’t expecting me clutches her chest and mutters, “Mary and Joseph, you scared me,” under her breath, then “Can I help you?” as she regains her composure.
Before I can answer, her gaze lands on the basket in my arms, her gaze widening as she takes in the giant ham and canned goods in the center, surrounded by snacks, gift cards, candles, and fuzzy socks.
I smile. “Merry—”
“Are you kidding me?” she yells over her shoulder, drowning out the rest of my Christmas greeting as her antlers bob on her head. “Oh, nothing to worry about? Everything’s fine, is it?”
I freeze, not sure what to do. Especially when she continues yelling over her shoulder. “You lost your job, didn’t you?”
Uh-oh. Maybe we should’ve brought more than one basket for this house.
A clean-shaven man with a dark crewcut hobbles to the doorway in a pair of gray sweats and a long-sleeved redflannel shirt. “What’s this all about?” he says, eyeing the basket. “Who are you?” he says, eyeing me.
Antler Head punches his shoulder. “Who do you think it is? It’s Miss Charity Lady from the church.”
“Ivy,” I say since I’m sure ‘Miss Charity Lady from the church’ will become a mouthful in no time.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got fired, Troy?”
“That’s a nice-looking ham,” Troy says, peering into the basket as he massages his lower back.
“Troy.”Antler Head slaps his hand when he reaches for the basket.
“What? Calm down. I didn’t get fired. I’m only missing a few days because of my back. Ooh...” He steps out onto the porch and lifts a candle to his nose. “Is that gingerbread?”
He dodges another slap from Antler Head and has apparently decided to use me as a body shield, because I suddenly find myself trapped between them with nowhere to go. Antler Head is blocking the doorway into the house and Gingerbread-loving Troy is blocking my exit off the porch.
“If you didn’t get fired, then why’d the church send a lady to our house with a basket full of socks and—and—and—” She yanks out a can, waving it much too close for comfort next to my head. “Green beans!”
I duck a bit as Troy as says, “How should I know? Maybe the church was just being nice.”
“With green beans and fuzzy slipper socks?”
I think I’m ready to go help Beau look for the cat. “So should I just leave the basket here, or...?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, Troy,” Antler Head says, ignoring me as I slowly crouch between them with the basket. “What else aren’t you telling me? What other secrets are you hiding?”
Troy grunts. “’Cuz you’re one to talk.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re pregnant again, aren’t you?”
