A Curvy Carol (A Curvy Girl Christmas #2)

11. Carolynn

11

CAROLYNN

I came into the kitchen where Mom was cooking dinner and showed her the picture of Whit and me holding our trophy.

She wiped her hands on her Christmas apron and zoomed in on the picture so she could read the plaque. “You won third place?” Mom asked, clearly surprised. We had never placed in all the years we competed. “That’s great, honey. I’m glad you had a good time.” There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy in her tone.

This was the first time I was really sharing any details about what had happened with Whit with Mom. But I couldn’t help it. It had been a fun day.

Best of all, Mom and Dad both finally seemed more relaxed about the holidays. Maybe they could tell how much I was starting to enjoy my time with Whit. I told her all about my day with him while we sat and ate chicken and dumplings at the table, bottle-brush Christmas trees standing between us.

After dinner, we put our dishes in the sink and got busy washing and drying them.

“This was a good idea,” Mom said as she scrubbed a pot. “I’m glad we decided to change things up this year.” She sighed. “You know, I have to admit the holidays have been a lot less stressful.”

I raised my eyebrows at her, and she looked at me kind of sheepishly. “I hate to say I told you so, Mom, but I told you so,” I said. She handed me the pan, and I worked to dry it.

She gave me a friendly nudge but went on. “I actually took a nap today. And I have an appointment at Vixen’s tomorrow for a spa day. I could get used to this.”

I smiled. “You should. This has been a nice change of pace.”

Mom had such a high-stress job that it was nice to finally see her relax and do something for herself.

“I still have presents to wrap,” she continued, grabbing our silverware from the bottom of the sink. “But maybe I can do that with a glass of wine and a show tonight…” Her eyes lit up like that would be a treat for her, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I liked this side of her.

Eyes still bright, she turned to me. “Hey, what do you think about baking some cookies with me? For old time’s sake?”

“Mom,” I groaned.

“Nothing crazy,” she replied quickly. “Just a couple dozen.”

I still hesitated.

“They don’t even have to be from scratch,” she added. “And they can be regular chocolate chip, not Christmas cookies.”

I gave in. “Okay. Maybe I can be the taste tester.” I smiled. I used to say that was the best part of being an only child—I always got to lick the spoon.

Within a few minutes, I was helping her mix the cookie dough and line the trays.

Mom put on some Christmas music, probably out of habit more than anything else, and it wasn’t even that bad.

After a few minutes, I realized it was because she wasn’t putting on any pressure to make it perfect. She danced around, not caring that the cookies weren’t perfectly shaped or in the oven for exactly twelve minutes.

“I could get used to this too,” I told her when the cookies had cooled down and we each grabbed one to try with a glass of milk. They were so good I was sad when mine was gone.

She gave me a hug and then we cleaned up together, storing the cookies in Ziplock bags. She even suggested I set one aside to take to Dad.

Once we were done, I got ready to head to my room for a quiet evening of crafting and maybe a movie since Mom wanted to wrap presents in the living room.

Just as I was grabbing my crafting bag, I realized I could hear something outside. “What’s that?” I asked.

“Is that singing?” Mom asked, coming into the living room and going to the window. She pulled back the curtains. “Oh, it’s the Carol Karens! They’re coming right around the corner.”

I went and looked too. There was a whole group of ladies from Garland who everyone called the Carol Karens. Every year, the week before Christmas, they went around town singing and caroling. They were some of the nicest old ladies around, even if they did love to gossip almost as much as they loved to sing.

Mom wrapped herself in a robe, then went to the front door and stepped outside. I was right behind her, although caroling wasn’t really my thing.

Sometimes people joined in with the Carol Karens, but I was happy listening for a few minutes and giving them a wave.

They reached the neighbor’s house, and I could see that they’d already added a few Garlanders to their group. I was pretty sure the entire neighborhood had come outside to watch and listen.

Then I noticed someone in the group waving at us.

“Oh, look, who is that?” Mom asked.

The person gave another wave before I recognized who it was. Whit.

He was singing with the Carol Karens?

“Oh my gosh,” I said, wanting to run away.

Of course, it made complete sense why he was with them. Singing with the Carol Karens was on our list, but I’d been secretly hoping we could get out of that one.

Now I wanted to hide. I was wearing my matching snowflake pajamas with my snow boots and robe. Not my best look. Maybe I could pretend I wasn’t home. That he’d seen someone else.

Mom must’ve noticed me trying to sneak away because she turned back to me and said, “Where are you going? Do you know that young man?”

Young man? I wanted to evaporate. She must not have recognized him from the picture with our trophy now that it was dark outside, which may get me out of this…

“I’ve gotta go,” I told her.

“He’s waving at you,” she said. “He’s coming up here.”

Oh no.

I turned back, and sure enough, Whit was making his way up our driveway.

He approached us with a grin that made me melt like our snowman would this spring. “Hey, Carolynn, where are you going?”

I mustered up a smile. “Hey, Whit. What are you doing here?”

“This is on our list,” he said, a little too happily. “So, of course, I had to join in.”

“Oh, you’re Whit!” Mom said, clapping her hands. “Carolynn, you should definitely join them. That sounds so fun.”

“You and I have different definitions of ‘fun,’” I muttered.

The Carol Karens finished their song and began moving to the next house.

“Come on,” Whit said. “Grab your coat.”

I groaned again. “You can’t be serious.”

“As serious as a peppermint shortage,” he replied, pulling out our list and holding it up like that sealed the deal. Mom chuckled at his simile, and I could tell he was winning her over too.

Before both Mom and Whit could join forces against me and drag me into the street, I went inside and got my coat, gloves, and hat.

But I was not happy about it at all.

I got all bundled up and found Whit waiting outside with my mom, a smug smile on his annoyingly handsome face.

“I really am not enjoying how happy you are right now,” I said, mostly sarcastically. “Both of you.”

“Why?” Whit asked, his grin growing even bigger. “Don’t you like singing carols ?”

“No,” I replied flatly.

“Oh,” he said, nonchalantly. “That’s too bad. Let’s go.”

Mom looked just as happy as Santa with a plate of cookies. “You two have fun.”

I gave her a wave and followed along behind Whit until we caught up to the Carol Karens. They seemed a little too happy to have us.

Once they were done cooing over how cute we were together—and making me blush like crazy—they began a new song, “Silent Night.”

Whit started singing right away. He had a nice deep voice. Meanwhile, I tried to get away with lip-syncing. It wasn’t fair that he was good-looking and had a voice like he could win American Idol someday.

Whit nudged me. “Come on,” he whispered.

“No,” I shot back.

Halfway through the song, though, one of the Carol Karens turned back to me again, giving me a pointed look and waiting for me to sing.

I wanted to disappear. I hated singing.

“Don’t make me tell your mother,” she said.

That was the last thing I needed. And I had no doubt Mom would say I wasn’t following through on my part of the no-Christmas deal. So I figured if I could belt out a few notes, maybe they’d all leave me alone and the sooner I could go home.

I opened my mouth, began singing, and tried to pretend no one was there. Especially not the guy I was starting to crush on, despite my logical brain fighting it kicking and screaming.

Right away, the Carol Karens turned toward me, each of them giving me a smile or clapping at the sound of my voice.

“Hey, you have a really pretty singing voice,” Whit told me.

I nudged him away, but felt myself blushing hard and tried to keep singing like it was no big deal.

A few songs later, thankfully, the route was done.

The Carol Karens turned around and began heading back into town, gossiping non-stop. Whit and I followed just a few steps behind.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Whit asked.

“Sure,” I said sarcastically, drawing out the word.

“Well, it was fun for me,” Whit said sweetly. “And I’m glad you were there with me.”

I had no sarcastic response for that, so we kept walking. At least it was dark enough outside to hide my blush.

“You know you don’t have to walk me home,” I said. “I know it’s out of the way for you.”

“I want to,” he replied simply, making my heart beat faster. I liked spending time with him… and it seemed like he enjoyed his time with me too. Maybe going caroling hadn’t been such a bad idea.

All too soon, we were on the sidewalk leading to my house.

As we walked up the steps, I noticed something hanging above the door.

“Is that what I think it is?” Whit gazed up at what looked very much like mistletoe. Amusement was clear in his voice.

“No,” I said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not.”

Had that been there before? I was pretty sure it hadn’t…

I chanced a look at Whit. All I wanted to do was go inside and disappear. A moment ago, I’d felt something happening between us, but what if he didn’t feel the same?

Regardless of my inner turmoil, Whit looked as cute as ever, and I was sure he was just being nice to me. That was all. I opened my mouth to tell him good night when he leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

My mouth fell open. Then I saw him watching me and closed it.

“Just following tradition,” he said, grinning and shoving his hands in his pockets. “Good night, Christmas Carol.”

And with that, he was gone.

Meanwhile, my heart raced at about a hundred miles per hour as I watched him disappear into the night, and I lifted my hand to my cheek.