Page 22 of One Small Secret

The door rings pleasantly when I push it open, and I force a smile at the little woman running the cash register. Poor thing. No one should have to work on Christmas Eve.

“Welcome,” she says with a wave and a smile back. She seems perfectly okay being here. Maybe too okay.

I glance around the store. The first row of goods is all motor oil, work gloves, and funnels. My stupid brain conjures up a vision of Ruben in a photo shoot wearing jeans and no shirt, streaks of oil on his face and torso as he models the products I’m looking at. I switch Axley to my other hip and give myself a mental shake. What is wrong with me tonight? I’m looking for a present for Ruben, not endorsement deals that he would never take. Plus, if I had to hazard a guess, Ruben hasn’t put oil in his own car…ever. I sigh. This is going to be an impossible task.

“Can I help you find something?” The woman’s voice is strong for her age, and she's smiling like there's no place she would rather be on Christmas Eve. Axley squirms in my arms, but there's no way I’m setting him down on the floor of a gas station.

“I’m looking for a gift.”

“For your little one?”

“No.” I shake my head. “For the big one out there.” I jerk my head toward Ruben.

The woman has to be pushing seventy with her spiky gray hair, but she still sizes Ruben up. Who wouldn’t? Her name tag only says “MRS.” in capital letters. She puts her hands on her hips and surveys the store like it's a problem to be solved. “Is he a drinker? We have some…well, I wouldn’t say fine beverages in the back, but we have some beverages in the back.”

Is Ruben a big drinker? I don’t actually know. He must be, since he's always getting his picture taken at nightclubs. Although, I’ve never read an article that said he over-drinks. I don’t know the over-twenty-one Ruben very well. “I don’t think so. I mean, he could be, but I don’t think so.”

“We have a souvenir section. Maybe something from Rosco to remind him of his time here?”

I smile at her. We're more Rosco than almost anyone else living here. But mediocre alcohol and fossil fuel products are a no-go, so souvenirs it is.

Axley reaches for MRS. as we pass her and she touches his finger with a smile. The souvenir section has postcards with the lake, shot glasses that say The Original Palmer Hotel, and fridge magnets with both of those things. Holy crap. Am I really going to give Ruben Palmer a cheesy Palmer Hotels souvenir for Christmas? I grit my teeth. I hate being on the bad end of anything. He really should have warned me. No gift should ever be given without at least two days’ notice. It should be a rule. And at Christmas time, it should be extended to four days to account for longer shipping.

Axley is leaning forward, trying to grab something off the shelf, and I cup his hand in mine to stop him. It’s a mug that says in black and red lettering:

Only the NICEST people on the NAUGHTY list get to spend CHRISTMAS at THE PALMER HOTEL.

I cringe. But honestly, at least this might make him laugh. And he probably doesn’t already have twenty of them. I grab the mug and bring it to the counter.

“Great choice.” The little lady says. “Should I wrap it for you?”

Since when did a gas station have wrapping paper? Probably since this woman started working here. She scans the code on the sticker on the bottom of the cup and the scanner machine makes a beeping sound. MRS. looks up with her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I was hoping you would get this.”

“Get what?”

“The prize.” She looks at me like I should know what she means by that, then waves her hands and reaches under the desk.

If she pulls out a rifle, I’m chalking this up to being the weirdest night of my life. I shift Axley so he's partially behind me.

When she pops back up she's holding a red mini cannon, and not the dangerous kind. I relax as she pushes a button on the back and an explosion of canned snow bursts into the air. Axley jumps in my arms but then laughs as he tries to catch the snow in his hands. The lady laughs and claps her hands. “Your prize is a second matching mug and your choice of teas.”

She runs to the back of the store and brings me back another mug, then pushes a box of individually sized tea packets forward. “Take two. Some are calming and will help you sleep, and others will give you energy.”

I grab two of the calming ones. My brain really needs to calm down, and nothing sounds better than a solid night’s sleep. She wraps up the present and I sneak a twenty into the tip jar. “Merry Christmas,” I say when she hands me the bag.

“May your Christmas be filled with magic and surprises this year,” she responds, and I can’t help but smile. An elderly woman was the last type of person I would have expected to be working late on Christmas Eve, and yet, somehow she was the perfect person to be doing so. No one could leave this store feeling stressed.

When we get back to Ruben, he eyes the bag in my hand. “Did you find something good, then?”

I hold up the bag like it's a trophy. “I found something—that’s for sure.” I place the bag in his hand. It’s the first present I’ve ever gotten him, and I’m pretty sure we both know it. Too bad it sucks. “Don’t look inside.”

I bend over to put Axley in the stroller. If you would have asked me a month ago what I thought I would be doing on Christmas Eve, never in a million years would I have guessed I’d be spending it with a baby and Ruben Palmer. And yet, somehow here we were.

Ruben’s arm laces through mine again, and like an old married couple, we stroll lazily back to my apartment.

CHAPTER TEN

Ruben entering my apartment for the second time isn't much different from the first time. He still seems like he stepped out of my TV instead of through my door..

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