The Plight Before Christmas(80)

It’s times like these, being in advertising, that I feel a little guilt for playing my part in convincing the masses that they need a certain item in their life.

Still, I highly doubt I would ever compete for a toy to the point of arrest or find myself in a fight in the aisle of a superstore for any reason.

A red-faced woman flies by me, repeating a list under her breath as I start to pass another aisle. I do a double-take when I spot Eli looking dumbfounded in the baby section, staring at an intimidating wall of diapers. He stands perplexed, his eyes volleying from the shelf to his cell phone. It’s then I know he’s debating on sending a message to Brenden like it would be as ego-shattering as asking for directions.

Men.

Without much thought, I snatch Wyatt’s diaper size and brand off the shelf and chuck it in his cart as I walk by.

“I see you’re still too proud to ask for help,” I toss over my shoulder, wheeling past him. A mere second later, I’m struck in the back, the bag of diapers bouncing a foot away from me. Gaping, I look back to see Eli’s nostrils flared, his fists clenching at his sides as if he’s preparing for battle.

“You did not just throw diapers at me.”

“Yeah, I did,” he fires back, “and who the hell wants to ask for help from a smug asshole?”

“You did not just call me an asshole.”

“If the anus fits,” he quips, grabbing the exact same size and brand from the shelf and tossing them in his cart before turning to wheel off in the opposite direction.

“Hey, hey!” I glance around the aisle, thankful we’re alone, as I charge toward him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? You can’t be serious.”

“Since you just assaulted me with Pampers, yeah, I want to know what your damage is.” He doesn’t hesitate, charging towards me until he’s again in my personal space. He’s even more beautiful when he’s furious, his gaze deadly as his shoulders rise steadily toward his ears.

“Like you don’t know you just exploited a weakness of mine in that SUV in order to get a nasty dig in?”

“And you haven’t done the same thing to me? Showering me with sweet words and apologies, catering to me all the while playing sincere before—”

A nosey passerby eyes us both, and I cut myself off as Eli leans in, undeterred.

“Not with ill intent. There was nothing contrived about it. I’ve been nothing but honest with you.”

“Yeah, only to ice me out this morning.”

He steps forward and cages me into a shelf of formula. “Make up your fucking mind.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ve done nothing but ice me out since I got here, so make up your mind. You either want my attention, or you fucking don’t. I’m sick of repeating myself, but please refer to our previous conversations if you’re unsure of my intentions—or reason for being here. I’ve made myself clear. You, however, have been looking at me like you want to eat me while telling me to stay away from you.”

“I have not.”

“So, I’m imagining it?” He scoffs. “You haven’t thrown a single signal my way?”

“You’re so fucking arrogant.”

“Confident.”

“Arrogant. You assumed that just because there is attraction, there is possibility.”

He presses in, his everything close. “If I was in it for something physical,” his eyes dip, “I could have fucked you already.”

My jaw drops. “You’re disgusting.”

“Well, you aren’t so appealing yourself at the moment.”

“How dare you!”

“Yeah, how dare I read into the come fuck me eyes, the goosebumps, the parted lips, the fast breaths, and hard nipples.”

Instinctively, my hands fly up to my chest. “My nipples are not hard for you!”

“Jesus,” he rips at his hair before pushing his fingers through. “Don’t worry. I’m backing off for no other reason than self-preservation. Somehow, in all my recollection, I’d forgotten what a nightmare you can be if I’m not reading your every thought and interpreting it correctly. Message received, Whitney. I’ll be packed and ready to roll out the second the presents are unwrapped.”

“Great fucking idea. Let me know if you need help!” I snap, wheeling alongside him as we race side by side to reach the end of the aisle.

“You go left,” he barks.

“Fine.”

I go right, and we collide. I nearly go down by the sheer force of the collision, and in an instant, his arms are righting me. Just as suddenly, he releases me and takes a hard left, stalking off as I yell after him.

“You could not have effed me already! You pig!”

“Ape,” he barks over his shoulder, “get it straight.”

“Oh, no, ape would give you far too much intellectual credit!” I scream out as a woman quickly wheels past me, throwing a protective arm around the child speed walking next to her. Eli flips me the bird before stopping at a cardboard Santa endcap, snatching a bag of stuffed Oreos from his mittened hands, ripping them open, and shoving one in his mouth before disappearing around the corner.





Ripping off a piece of jerky from the stick, I toss another emotionally induced last-minute present into my cart. I’ve made it my mission to gift my nieces and nephews everything I feel their little hearts may desire. Wandering down another toy aisle, I push aside the horrifying image of my next AmEx bill and am just about to reach for a rubber fish bath toy for Peyton when I spot Serena at the end of the aisle bent over her shopping cart.