If you missed Callie or Kate’s stories, you can find them here:
The Perfect Catch
The Perfect Match
Keep reading for a free sample of Maggie Dallen’s latest standalone YA romance, The Candy Cane Kiss.
For more YA romance, check out Maggie Dallen’s complete Briarwood High series:
Out of His League
A Whole New League
The Perfect League
The Holiday Kiss
The Prom Kiss
The Candy Cane Kiss
The Candy Cane Kiss
Lucas
I heard the cart coming down the long hallway outside my hospital room long before it arrived. Clanking and clattering announced its arrival and my mood took a turn for the worse, if that was even possible.
Yesterday it had been a clown who’d shown up at my hospital door, on the day of my surgery. A freakin’ clown. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough that I was in the children’s ward of Atwater Hospital, then they went and sent in the clowns.
Also, when was the last time a clown did anything other than terrify? Way to go, hospital admins, now you’ve given all the kids in this wing nightmares for the Christmas holidays.
“Ho Ho Ho.” The cheery sound came from the hallway.
Oh God, now they were sending out the Santas? Already? There was still a week to go before Christmas.
“Ho Ho Ho.” It was a girl’s voice, lowered about twenty octaves so it was comically low as it echoed off the linoleum floor and garishly painted walls.
I turned up the volume on my TV. Sports Center. Nothing more pathetic than a washed-up quarterback watching ESPN to see just what his life was missing.
Was it possible I was lying here feeling sorry for myself?
Yeah. Maybe.
It had been months since I’d been benched thanks to my shoulder injury, but it still stung. The season was over, Briarwood didn’t make it to the playoffs for the first time in forever, and the entire school was lamenting the fact that Brian Kirkland, the former star quarterback, graduated last spring.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was my chance. I was supposed to be the phenom junior starting quarterback who took over the legacy position. I was supposed to take us all the way to state. I was supposed to—
“Knock knock!” The girl standing in the doorway wore the most ridiculous outfit I’d ever seen. A bright red Santa hat perched atop dark brown curls—they weren’t like normal curls, though. She looked like someone out of an old movie, and her old-school, cat-eye glasses only added to the effect.
Then there was the red-and-white striped dress, which was more like a smock or a kitchen apron type of thing. Below that were red-and-white striped tights.
She was blindingly bright.
Her smile was even brighter than her stupid outfit. She furrowed her brow and lowered her voice but her smile never faded as she repeated her Christmas cheer. “Ho Ho Ho!”
I stared at her. Who the hell was this? “What are you supposed to be?”
Her smile inexplicably grew in the face of my gruff question and she held her hands palm up as she shrugged. “Santa, obviously.”
I eyed the red-and-white striped outfit that covered her from neck to toe, ending in big clunky grandma shoes. “You look like a candy cane.”
Her smile grew even wider and she steered in the dreaded cart, which was filled with some sadistic hospital administrator’s idea of “treats.”
“It’s candy striper, actually, but still…” She whipped two candy canes from some hidden stash. “It’s funny you should say that, because I come bearing gifts.”
She held them out proudly, with a teasing grin that managed to amplify my annoyance a hundredfold. I didn’t take the proffered candy. It was rude, yes, but the arm closest to her was the injured one and it was pinned to my side to keep me from hurting it in my sleep.
Maybe if I glared long enough she’d go away.
No such luck. She didn’t seem to notice I was glaring as she set the candy canes on the table beside my bed and started scrounging in the cart. “Let’s see, what else can I offer you?”
“Peace,” I suggested mildly. “Silence?”
She tossed me another bright smile over her shoulder. She thought I was kidding.
I was not.
“Ooh,” she held up a pack of playing cards. “We could play rummy!”
I blinked at her and let her stew in embarrassment as my silence mocked her. Only when her cheeks flushed a pale pink did I do my worst impression of enthusiasm. “Ooh, rummy!” I echoed her words with the same breathless excitement of this weird girl who seemed to think card games were cool.
I turned back to the TV, ignoring the smile that was now frozen on her face as I turned up the volume with my free hand.
“Would you like a book?” she asked.
I ignored her.
“A magazine?”
“How about silence,” I suggested again, my gaze never leaving the flickering TV screen even though I’d watched these highlight clips three times already today. If all went well I’d get the okay to leave tomorrow and would never have to watch basic cable or interact with crazy volunteers ever again.
I heard her sigh as she started to move. Good. Great. Get out of here, freak.
But she didn’t leave. I heard her doing something in the corner to my right and after resisting for three long seconds, curiosity won out. “What do you think you’re doing?”
She didn’t glance back at me, which was probably for the best because she most likely would have fallen from her precarious perch if she’d tried. The red-and-white striped spectacle was perched atop the lounge chair in the corner, straining to reach the ceiling.
That’s when I caught sight of the decorations in her hand. She had some sort of banner dangling from the corner where she was sticking a tack into the wall.
“Oh no,” I said. “No decorations.” It was bad enough that my entire winter break from school would be spent in the hospital. There was no way I was going to pretend that this was a holly jolly time in my life.
She let out a little huff but I couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or exertion as she strained toward the wall, balancing on one foot, the other stuck out behind her like a ballerina. The pose also gave me a better view of her ridiculous stockings and the killer thighs that they covered.
“I heard you were grumpy, but I didn’t expect you to be this bad.”
My gaze shot from her thighs to her face, but she was still facing the wall. She might have great legs but did she just call me grumpy? Grumpy? Everything in me chafed at the word, which would best suit an old man, or a dwarf, or maybe a cat.
“Who told you that?” I snapped. “Your buddy the clown?”
She ignored me.
“I’m not grumpy.” My tone dripped with disdain, but she just shrugged.
“Cranky, then.”
I blinked at her. Cranky? Seriously? That was no better. I might’ve been surrounded by toddlers and little kids in the pediatrics unit, but I wasn’t a child. I was a junior in high school, a fully grown, prime-of-his-life athlete…minus the injured shoulder. I gritted my teeth. “I am not a kid.”
She turned around, hopping off the chair and giving me a smile befitting a saint. “Then stop acting like one.”
“I’m not—” I sputtered and then slammed my mouth shut. I would not defend myself to this walking ornament. Besides, she was already heading back to the cart…but only to get another thumbtack for the stupid banner.
She unrolled it further, and I let out a groan. It was a Christmas scene meant for little children. Rudolph frolicked with elves and large cartoonish Santa faces grinned down at me. “This is really not necessary,” I said.
“Actually, it is.” She glanced over her shoulder at me as she tugged the corner chair further along the wall so she could use it as a step stool again. She wore a little smirk that made me wonder if she was getting some sort of perverse satisfaction ou
t of tormenting me. But her tone was all innocence as she added, “This is all part of the job. Visiting patients and spreading holiday cheer.”
She went up on tiptoe again to insert another tack. This time I had the distinct pleasure of viewing her backside. If I ignored the fact that it was covered in that horrific dress-slash-smock type thing, I could even enjoy the view.
The girl might be a nutjob but she had killer curves.
As if sensing my thoughts, she peeked at me over her shoulder and her eyes narrowed. “What are you looking at, Lucas Carlson?”
I jerked my head up at her use of my full name. “You know who I am?”
Of course she knew who I was. My name was probably in her charts or her list of patients, or whatever it was they gave these freakish volunteers who chose to spend a perfectly nice Saturday at the hospital like a psycho.
If I didn’t have to be here you’d better believe I’d be far, far away. On my couch playing video games with some buddies, or at Eleanor’s house making up because there was no way she wasn’t going to come running back to me. Or maybe I’d be with my family at the ski resort for the weekend.
Basically, I would be anywhere but here.
She was still watching me with narrowed eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”
I hoped my wide eyes and arched brows conveyed innocence. Ogling the bizarre elf creature hanging decorations in my room? I would never!
It didn’t work. She kept giving me that suspicious stare until I held my hands up in mock innocence. “How could I not look? You’re dressed like a freak.”
She lifted one hand to her Santa hat and I could have sworn I saw a flicker of hurt cross her face.
My gut twisted in response. Aw hell. I may have been a bit of a grumpy, cranky jerk lately. It was possible, I supposed. But my life had recently taken a nosedive down the toilet, and it wasn’t my fault that some moron felt compelled to cheer me up with candy canes and cartoon Santas. I’d never asked for this.
“They didn’t have a full suit that fit me,” she mumbled.
As if I’d been mocking her for only wearing part of a Santa costume.
I rolled my eyes. Whatever, weirdo. I couldn’t believe I’d suffered even a momentary pang of guilt over this freak.
I focused on the television and tried to ignore her as she twisted and reached, struggling in her quest to hang a stupid banner that I didn’t even want. Her very presence here made me twitchy. It was bad enough being stuck in this room in a hospital gown and a sling; I so didn’t need my lowest moment witnessed by the likes of this girl.
Beneath the garish outfit and the outlandish hair, she was cute. And that somehow made it worse. Maybe if I was in a better mood I’d hit on her. Eleanor would hate that. If she heard I was flirting with the hospital volunteer she’d forget this idea she had that she needed to date other people. That we were too young to be so serious.
Those were her words, obviously.
We were sixteen. We’d been dating since middle school. We’d known each other since we were infants and our parents were still the best of friends. We were the perfect couple, everyone said so.
What more did she need?
Ryan Hoffman, apparently.
For years she’d been perfectly content to be my girl, but now Eleanor suddenly felt compelled to date that loser she never even knew existed. Of course, that was before he’d suddenly shot up two feet and become the center for the Briarwood basketball team.
He went from a nobody to a somebody overnight, and it was hard not to feel like he’d stolen my life.
I was supposed to be the one who blew them all away junior year. I was supposed to be the one with the heartbreakingly beautiful Eleanor on my arm and the adoration of the entire school when I led the way to the playoffs.
Instead I was lying here forgotten and abandoned by my girlfriend and my friends. My big season to shine was ruined halfway through by an injury, and even my family left me behind as they all went skiing this weekend without me.
“Okay,” my bizarre little elf declared as she stepped down from the chair once more, brushing her hands off on her smock. “That should do it.”
She looked so proud of herself. Didn’t she see that I didn’t want her here? I didn’t want Christmas decorations and I didn’t need her pity. That’s what this was, right? She volunteered to cheer up the depressed and the lonely.
I gave her the universal sign of sarcastic applause by slow clapping. “Way to go, Candy Cane,” I said, my tone low and filled with disdain. “You basically just cured cancer.”
She whipped around to face me and I feigned a thoughtful look. “Oh wait, no. You just hung up a stupid banner that no one wants. But yeah, that’s impressive too.”
She blinked a couple of times and I watched as her cheeks turned a vivid shade of red. A swift kick of satisfaction was tempered by guilt. I could be a dick sometimes, and I wasn’t even sure why.
Like right now. I wanted to take away her happiness and make her as miserable as I was. But seeing her shock and her embarrassment didn’t make me feel better. Before she’d arrived I’d felt like a pitiful washed-up loser, and now I felt like a pitiful, washed-up loser who made nerdy girls cry.
Nerdy, cute girls. I tried to envision her without those ridiculous cat-eye glasses and the unflattering smock and the big ringlet-type curls that made her look like she should be on her way to a costume party.
She was definitely cute. I met her gaze and realized she was also not about to cry, thank God. That wasn’t humiliation that had made her cheeks burn.
She was pissed.
How did I know? That vengeful light in her eyes was the first thing to tip me off. The second? She took my pudding.
I repeat, the girl took my pudding!
She snatched it right off the end table and tossed it into the garbage even though it was nearly full.
“What did you do that for?”
She widened her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you still eating that? I figured since you were so busy leering at my butt and tossing out insults, you must have finished your meal.”
She blinked once and any hint of anger was gone, replaced by a too-sweet innocence that would have fooled anyone but me.
I’d literally just watched her toss the only edible portion of my lunch. “That was juvenile,” I said.
Her lips twitched up in the corners and I noted that her lips were a bright red to match the hat and the stockings and that God-awful smock.
She shrugged. “Well, I am in the pediatric ward.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’ll report you.”
“To whom?” she asked cheerfully as she went back to that stupid cart and pulled out a mini-tree, complete with lights. “I’m a volunteer, remember? It’s not like you can get me fired.”
I shook my head. “Who are you and why are you doing this to me?”
“I told you,” she said, her tone doggedly nice. “I’m a candy striper.”
“And I told you,” I said, my voice turning to a growl. “I don’t want Christmas decorations. Or company,” I added.
She set the tree down with a thump and plugged it in. She’d had to lean over to do so and I nearly groaned. This girl was irritating beyond belief, but the most annoying part of her right now was her butt. Not even her ugly smock or the ridiculous stockings could hide the fact that she was a hottie in disguise.
Even more than the pity visit and the horrible decorations, you know what else I didn’t want or need? To be lusting after some lunatic with a Christmas obsession and a cheery attitude that made me want to puke.
She spun around to face me and I looked away guiltily. Too late. I’d just been caught eyeing her from my hospital bed like some pervy invalid.
Again.
“You don’t want company or you don’t have company?”
If she’d noticed my eyes on her bottom half she didn’t let on. Her tone was even and the look in her eyes had reverted back to being absurdly kind, especially consid
ering my behavior since she’d walked in.
Her kindness made me feel guilty, and guilt made me want to say something nasty. If she didn’t get out of here soon we would quickly spiral in that sick circle until I said something truly heinous.
I squinted at her as if I hadn’t heard, or as if I didn’t understand her point. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged a bit as she headed back to get more decorations. “Just curious if you don’t want company or if you’re just in a bad mood because you don’t have company. Because, you know…I could understand that.”
I stared at her, hating the kindness in her voice. Despising the pity. “I could have company if I wanted company.”
“Okay.” She didn’t look at me.
“I could.”
She focused on the snowman poster in her hand and then eyed the wall as if looking for an available space. “I’m sure you could.”
“I have a lot of friends.” I could hear myself talking and willed myself to stop. I sounded like an idiot, defending how popular I was. “If I wanted visitors they’d be here.”
She glanced over with a little smile that made me nuts. “I’m sure they would.”
She was being so sweet. Too sweet. Adrenaline rushed through me as I realized she was mocking me. I let my gaze roam over her slowly, not bothering to hide my disgust at her outfit, the glasses, the hair, the stupid hat. “I’m guessing a girl like you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have friends, but trust me when I say that if I wanted visitors this room would be filled with people.” I let my eyes travel down to those hideous candy-cane stockings. “Normal people.”
When I looked back at her face I caught her giving me a little smirk, amusement making her dark eyes sparkle like she really was a freakin’ elf. “Highly doubtful.”
I struggled to sit upright a little more but my shoulder cried out at the wiggling. I bit back a curse. “Look, freak, I’ve got lots of friends—”
“Oh, I don’t doubt the status of your popularity,” she interjected. “I just meant it was highly doubtful that you could fit all those friends into this hospital room.” She blinked once, her expression so neutral it was impossible to read. “There’s no way they could all fit in here and have room for your ego.”
The Perfect Score (Kissing the Enemy Book 3) Page 15
