Page 8 of Meowy & Bright

Smiling, I pull onto the highway and watch with amusement and, admittedly, satisfaction, as she pulls out and doesn’t turn left to go home. She turns right toward Cal’s Diner. Toward me.

6

ARIADNE

“What are you doing?” I ask myself. I am even more mad now, if that’s possible.

Was he serious about not knowing who I am? I’ve lived across the street from him for years. I know I don’t go outside much, but still. For some reason, his denial stung. I focus on my anger so I don’t let a small piece of my ego get hurt. I didn't know I had an ego when it came to my looks, but clearly, I do. Satan Claus’s words knocked the wind out of my sails. Jerk. I don’t know what game he’s playing but whatever it is, he better plan on losing.

I’m not sure why we have to go to Cal’s Diner to talk about the lights. I don’t like restaurants. They tend to have a lot of people that listen to your conversations. The menus are always so overwhelming, and I never have enough time to read over them properly before the server is at the table asking me what I want. I always get flustered and just leave. I’m more of a take-out girl. In recent months I’ve discovered the apps for food delivery and that pretty much sealed the deal for me staying in to eat. I guess I’ll have to put my big-girl panties on today and suck it up if I want those lights. And I absolutely do.

I pull into the parking spot next to him. I glance in the mirror and wish I’d taken a little more time to get ready to go to the hardware store. I’d been in such a rush that I didn't bother to fix my hair. I pulled it up into a wild mess on top of my head. The yoga pants I’m wearing are a little dirty from working in the yard, and my furry boots have some mud specks on them. My plan had been to get the lights and put some of them up by nightfall. Now I’m going to have to eat with Satan Claus before I can get my hands on them. It’s almost not worth it. I should turn around and go home. I could come up with something else. But the competitor in me won’t have it.

“It’s worth it,” I tell myself as I look into the rear-view mirror trying to give myself another pep talk. It’s not as if they ever work.

My door opens, and I let out a scream.

“Whoa.” Satan Claus doesn’t waste time.

“Don’t scare me!” I snip at him and flick off my seat belt.

He just smiles and offers me his hand to help me out of the car.

I smack it away. “I can get out of my own car,” I huff.

He steps back to give me room to do so. I grab my purse, stepping out and keeping my eye on him. Because I’m not looking where I’m stepping, I don’t see the chunk of asphalt my foot comes down on. I trip, drop my bag, and almost fall over. Satan Claus catches me easily.

I gasp as he pulls me snugly into his arms. “I got you,” he reassures me.

“You have my lights, that’s what you have.” I push off his chest, this time tripping over my own feet. I’m sure this time I’m going to face plant outside the diner for all to see, but again, he catches me.

“Stop that!”

His hands bring me flush against his solid form. For a man that I never really see leave his house, he’s built like a Mack truck. I feel small and dainty against him, something I’m not used to feeling.

I’m definitely on the short side, but I have a butt and thick thighs. My curves seem to mold easily into his body, and I allow myself to stay there for a second. The contact feels nice, even though it’s with Satan.

I come to my senses and push away, though I look down for a moment to check my footing first. “Can’t I just have my lights?” I glare up at him, giving him my best death stare, hoping it will instill the fear of God in him.

He only smiles. “We can talk about it while we eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I lie. I haven't eaten today, which is very unlike me. My second favorite thing to do is cook. I haven’t been doing that much these past few weeks, because I’ve been so focused on getting my home ready for Christmas decorating. Everything else has been put on the back burner.

“Ten boxes of icicle lights say you’re plenty hungry.” He quirks an annoying smile. Handsome devil. I feel like Eve in the garden and he’s the serpent trying to sway me into doing what he wants with the promise of lights instead of an apple.

My stomach growls, betraying me, and his smile gets bigger. “Sure sounds as though you’re hungry.”

I frown and brush past him, entering the diner. I might as well get this over with. The sooner, the better. I’ll eat, get my lights, and then return to my happy Christmas house.

I pause when he doesn't follow me. Looking back, I see he’s picking up my purse and cleaning up everything that dumped out all over the place. Crap. I rush back outside with no clue what was in my bag.

“Give me that.” I snatch it from his hands. “I don’t need you stealing something.”

He laughs again! What is so funny? I’m angry plus some other emotions I’ve never felt in my whole life, and he keeps on laughing like this is funny. Why do I want to punch him and kiss him and then punch him some more? Horrified at my own thought—kissing him?—I fist my hands.

“I bought those lights. No stealing took place.” He pulls off his coat and drops it over my shoulders. “It’s too cold for you to be roaming around without a coat on.” Next, he drapes his arm over my shoulder as he guides me into the diner. My stomach lets out another embarrassing moan at the smell of all the food. There’s a reason I have all these curves.

“Two,” he tells the hostess who guides us to a table, giving us both a menu. “She’ll have a hot chocolate and I’ll take a coffee, black.”

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