That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe (Abieville Love Stories #4)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Three

Wait. What planet am I on?

Did Sara Hathaway seriously just offer to go home with me?

For the next three days?

A voice in my head puts up a silent protest as I squint up at Sara. “Nope thanksss. You … umm… not … you… … no. Nope thankssss.” Except I must be using my actual mouth and stammering out loud, because Ford just looked down at me.

“ Nope thanks?” He bites back a laugh. “Did you just say ‘nope thanks?’”

“Yesss,” I slur. “That idea isss … not excellent.” That last word comes out more like egg-sssell-ent. And what I actually mean is that Sara Hathaway staying with me is a monumentally terrible idea. When I try to scowl to emphasize the terribleness, fresh pain shoots through my skull. Then I see stars and grunt like a baby piglet.

Ugh.

Good thing I’m not trying to attract anyone right now .

Especially Sara Hathaway.

“Her offer is actually very nice,” Ford says, glancing at her. “Thanks, Sara.”

She shrugs. “No big deal.”

But it is a big deal. It’s the biggest deal. I can’t be around her. I’ll … I’ll … “Nooo,” I moan.

“Come on, Three.” Sara splays her hands. “You’re only in this situation because of me.” She takes a beat. “Well, me and Betty Crocker.”

I pull down my brow. Ouch. “I have no idea what that meansss.”

“It means I’m the only viable option you’ve got for this job.”

“Hey, I have a job.” I puff out a laugh. “A good job. An important job.” This fact is completely unrelated to the situation, but for some reason, I feel like I need to tell Sara I’m gainfully employed. Maybe that’s because the Hathaways never thought I’d amount to anything.

Maybe I didn’t think I would either.

“Of course you have a job,” Sara says.

“I can’t remember what I do right now, though.” I lift a hand to rub my throbbing skull. Everything entering my brain seems to be sifting through a layer of cheesecloth.

“You’re a high school history teacher,” Ford says. “Remember?” He’s talking at me slowly and loudly, like he’s communicating with a brick wall.

“Duh.” I harrumph. Except no, I didn’t remember. But I don’t want anyone to realize how messed up I am, or Sara might not give up on this idea of staying with me. “I have a few brain cellsss left. Like … three. Like my name again.” I hear snickering, then realize it’s me.

I’m the one snickering.

That’s when Nurse Hairy hands over a couple of plastic bottles to Sara. “Mr. Fuller’s pain meds are pretty strong.” She rattles the pills. “You’ll have to monitor his follow-up doses for those and for the antibiotics. He won’t be able to keep track of them himself. Also, he shouldn’t do any driving. No signing legal documents. No operating heavy machinery.”

A snort slips out of me. “What about light machinery?”

Oh, man.

That’s probably the dumbest joke I’ve ever told. I really am all kinds of loopy right now. So yeah, I guess I can’t stay by myself, but I also don’t want Ford’s trip to be ruined on my account. Same goes for the rest of my extended family which—let’s face it—is half the town. All my single friends who aren’t related to me are in Vermont. And I haven’t dated a woman seriously enough to stay with her since—well—let’s just say it’s been a long time.

My only real choice is …

I lift my gaze to Sara.

She’s staring down at me with her big eyes all wide open, and a wave of something unsteady crashes over me. Leftover heartache? Concussion fog? Either way, I can’t let Sara think she affects me.

She doesn’t affect me.

“You’re ssso pretty,” I murmur.

Oops.

Sara throws a hand up to her throat. “Oh!”

I crinkle my face, grimacing up at Ford. “What did I just say? Am I talking out loud? Did I?—”

“We better get you home,” Ford interrupts. “I have time before I need to go the airport.” He turns to Sara. “I’ll wait with Three over at his place while you grab whatever you need to stay there with him for the next few days.”

“But—”

“I’ll send you the address,” Ford adds. “His place is just a couple blocks off Main Street.”

“It’s just that … ” Sara’s cheeks and throat begin to flush. Pink. Soft. Shiny. “Someone’s coming to evaluate my parents’ property tomorrow morning,” she says. “So if Three can’t be left alone at his place, he’ll have to stay at the lake house with me. ”

“Wait.” I pause, fumbling the right words. “What about my … thing?”

Sara’s brow lifts. “What thing?”

“Umm.” I shift my jaw. “My … thing. With the clothesss in it.”

Ford drags a hand over his face. “Your suitcase. I guess I can bring that over to the Hathaways’ house.”

“But I’m packed all wrong,” I tell him. “For not cold weather.” I lift a hand to count what I’m missing for the snow. “I need sweatssss. Beaniessss. Sockssss. Long underwear.”

Great. Of all the clothing items to start listing, I had to throw in underwear.

“I’ll repack for you,” Ford says, with a smirk. “You don’t sound like you’re in any condition to make wardrobe decisions anyway.”

“That’sss real sssswell of you, cuzzz, but?—”

Ford cuts me off. “If I can’t stick around and help out while you’re healing, the least I can do is swap out some stuff in a suitcase for you. It’ll make me feel better when I’m on that cruise ship indulging in the unlimited drink package.”

“Okey dokey.” I rub my forehead, realizing I’m fresh out of arguments. “Sounds like a plan, Ssstan,” I slur. And now I kind of want to crawl under this wheelchair and hide for the rest of my life.

Not only did I bring up my underwear, but I’ve apparently become a man who says things like real swell, okey dokey, and sounds like a plan, Stan.

“I’ll just swing by your place to get your things,” Ford says, “then I’ll meet you and Sara over at the lake house.” Ford looks at Sara. “Work for you?”

She swallows hard and chirps, “Totally works!” But then she glances at me, with her teeth clenched like this isn’t working for her even a little bit. As she pushes the wheelchair toward the exit, my head starts swimming and spinning and aching. This is so not good. Sara is definitely wishing she wasn’t stuck taking care of me.

Yeah. You and me both, kid.

Too bad we don’t really have any other choice.

But it’s just for a few days, right? Then this can all be over . For both of us.

I open my mouth to say this to Sara and puke all over myself.

Terrible plan, Stan .