Lone Star Santa Read Free Page B

was an authorized user an hour ago when you rented me the car.”
    “We’ve received updated information—”
    “Never mind.” Mitch gave them Jeremy’s cell number. “Tell him he can authorize the rental, or I’ll drive his car. His choice.”
    “If you could come back to sign—”
    “No. Mr. Sloane will take care of any paper work.”
    He clicked off and before the car rental girl could call him back, he pressed “1” on his speed dial and closed his eyes. In a situation like this, there was only one thing to do. One place to go. Two people who believed in him, which were two more than believed in him here.
    “Mitch!”
    At the delight in her voice, he relaxed for the first time in hours. “Hey, Mom, guess what? I’m coming home for the holidays.”

Chapter Two
    After Thanksgiving. At least a week. The leftovers have been eaten and those who’ve arrived for a “holiday visit” should have long since departed. But they haven’t. They’re hanging around making their parents nervous .
    S HE WAS GETTING FAT . Fat, fat, fat. Wearing a retro full black slip, Kristen twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror and vainly tried to find her hip bones, but they were hiding in the shadow made by her new stomach pooch. And if she needed more proof of fatness, Kristen had caught herself lingering on the television shopping channels when they advertised anything with elastic waists.
    She couldn’t even blame her mother’s cooking. Oh, sure, her mother, Barbara, had cooked a turkey with trimmings for Thanksgiving. Okay, technically, she’d heated up a takeout bird along with the prepackaged side dishes, but the mashed potatoes had been made from scratch with Kristen’s very own two hands.
    Ah, mashed potatoes. How long had it been sinceshe’d scarfed down their fluffy, buttery goodness? Well, breakfast, actually. Kristen pulled on her new black skirt and tried to work up some guilt. And failed.
    Had no one noticed that while the other turkey dinner leftovers had disappeared at a proportional rate, the mashed potatoes had magically reappeared meal after meal?
    Kristen closed her eyes and remembered the cheese and jalapeños she’d added to yesterday’s mashed-potato lunch, after which she’d drunk water all afternoon. It had been worth it. How could she have survived all that time in carbless Los Angeles without cheese and jalapeños?
    And potatoes. Wonderful, glorious potatoes. They oozed warm comfort. Filled the belly. Relaxed the mind. Nature’s perfect food.
    There was a time when her mother wouldn’t have let her eat three meals of mashed potatoes a day, but meals had been very casual since Kristen had come home. What had happened to the family dinners when they all gathered around the table and Kristen and her little sister Nicole would report on their days?
    Okay, so Nicole was married now and Kristen was technically living in Los Angeles until… Oh. It was after December first, so she was technically living in her old room at her parents’ house. An old room she’d expected to see in the same condition she’d left it after coming back for Nicole’s wedding. Then it had been cleaned up some, but still had her furniture and curtains and her stuffed animals and trophies. It wasn’t a shrine, but it was an awfully familiar-looking guest room.
    However, that was all gone. No more lilac-and-whiteeyelet. Now the room was painted a soft sage green and held exercise equipment with a pullout sofa bed and a computer.
    Because they were always working late, her parents weren’t around a whole lot in the evenings. No sitting in front of the TV eating Healthy Carbolyte frozen meals for them. And no apron-clad mother slaving over a hot microwave for Kristen. Dinner—and breakfast and lunch—was grab and eat, except for Friday nights, when she and her parents linked up over takeout food.
    It wasn’t what Kristen had expected. But then again, the turn her life had taken wasn’t what she expected.