Page 36 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“There’s plenty,” Mr. J says, flipping one down on my plate and another on Tucker’s.
Tucker immediately starts piling his pancake with syrup, cream, and choc chips.
“Oh my goodness,” I say, “that will seriously rot your teeth.”
“You’ll be happy to know, Hollie, I own all my own teeth.” He draws back his lips to show off two rows of white, straight teeth. “And it’s Christmas. Plus, I’ve got a hard, hard day’s work ahead of me. I need all the sugar I can get.”
“You’re working today, even though it’s Christmas Eve Eve?” I ask.
“Absolutely,” he says. “Work never stops on the ranch.”
Annie nods in agreement.
I sprinkle my own pancake with some bananas and smear some peanut butter over the top. I haven’t eaten something like this in years.
“So what are these big plans you have for us today?” I ask my best friend.
“We’re heading into town to do a little more gift buying.”
“You need to buy yet more presents? Annie, you wrapped about a hundred last night.”
“Yes, but there are still one or two little things I need to get.”
“What you have to understand about Annie,” her dad says, “is that she prides herself on being a present-buying, gift-giving expert.”
“Theexpert,” Annie corrects. “I buy the best gifts ever.”
I nod. I have to agree. My best friend has always given me the most thoughtful, lovely little gifts for as long as I’ve known her.
“Which,” Annie continues, “drives my big brother nuts.”
“Nuts? How come?”
“Because he’s absolutely awful at choosing gifts. Like, the worst. Which means he always feels incredibly guilty when I buy him these thoughtful, incredible presents and he buys me trash.Whichmeans, because he feels so guilty, he’s nice to me for at least the first three months of the year.”
“That is so damn crafty, Annie,” Tucker says, shaking his head with obvious admiration.
“I’m the little sister,” Annie says. “It’s in the job description.”
Once we’ve finished our breakfast, I wrap myself back up in that warm coat and those snow boots, and we pile into Annie’s truck. It’s the first time I’ve been in her truck, and now I understand why her brother was so reluctant to let her drive it out to the airport. It’s ancient, rusty in several places, and it takes her three turns of the key before the engine starts rumbling away. It splutters and coughs like an old man suffering with pneumonia.
“Annie, is this truck going to make it into town?” I say with apprehension.
“She’s never let me down yet,” Annie says confidently.
“Why don’t you get a new one?” I mutter.
“Because I’m loyal, Hollie Bright,” she says. “As you know. That’s why I didn’t dump you as a best friend when you forgot to pass on that message from Professor Woo and I nearly failed her class, or that time you spilled red wine all down my white dress when we were at that seriously glitzy party.”
“I’m also loyal,” I remind her. “That’s why I haven’t dumpedyoufor ditching me at the bar two nights ago.”
“Fair,” Annie says, pulling on the old shift stick and jerking us away along the track.
It’s a million times bumpier than it was in Mr. J’s truck or in Clay’s, but I have to admit the old girl does have some character to her. Annie points out the different properties as we pass other ranches and then explains which family lives where and who owns what. We pass some people out horseback riding. And then we’re rumbling into town. She parks up on Main Street and announces that we’re going to the hardware store.
I whistle. “Gee whiz, Annie, you’re taking my virginity at every opportunity you can.”
“Don’t tell me,” she says. “You’ve never stepped inside a hardware store before.”
