A Little Christmas Jingle by Michele Dunaway

not that great.”
    â€œWe’re attending the Pet Rescue Gala.”
    Cecily just arched an eyebrow. “The charity?”
    â€œOur first public venture as a couple,” Jack confirmed. “It’s a great event. Black tie.”
    â€œWell, that will shock St. Louis’s sensibilities to know that its calendar boy is off the market. I’ll make sure to toss the bouquet her direction.”
    â€œDon’t you dare.” The words were out before Jack could stop them.
    Cecily smirked. “Ah, now there’s the Jack we know and love. So it’s not that serious.”
    â€œWe just met,” Jack grit out again.
    â€œGive your brother space,” Jack’s mom said. “He’ll figure it out.”
    â€œMaybe,” Cecily conceded. She gave him a long, assessing look. “Time will tell, won’t it?”
    Jack simply shoved another bite into his mouth to keep from replying.
    #
    By Friday evening, Kat turned into a complete basket case. This was not a real date. So why was she stressing over a silly charity ball?
    Besides, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen Jack. He’d come by Monday morning at eight to get photos. He stopped by or called at least once a day to check on Jingle’s progress. While the dog grew stronger day by day, Jingle still had a long way to go. He wasn’t out of the woods, and he required constant monitoring.
    Kat looked at her bed, now covered with dresses and one comfortable, sleeping calico kitten. “I tell you, Pippa, you’re lucky you have a fur coat.”
    Pippa’s black-tipped tail thumped once, her only acknowledgement of Kat’s dilemma. She’d been so sure this morning. Wear her favorite dress, the red one with the slit up her leg. Until she remembered that Jack never forgot anything—and she’d worn it the night they’d met. So she tossed it on the bed and pulled out a deep green gown, only to find a stain on the skirt the dry cleaners had missed.
    Two down. Then the black velvet standby looked too shabby, and everyone would be in black, a color that turned Kat’s skin a ghostly shade of pale.
    She even tried on the silver bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn to her friend Marianne’s wedding—until a glance in the mirror reminded her it shimmered like a cheap shower curtain, something a lot of wine at the reception had helped her forget. Time to donate that garment next time she cleaned out her closet. Dress five was another one she planned to donate—she’d worn it five years ago and it no longer fit. Dress six made her butt look big, and she couldn’t remember why she’d bought it in the first place, unless she’d been indulging in retail therapy after her latest breakup. Her one shopping weakness post-breakup was buying pretty dresses.
    Trouble was, she had very few places to wear them, but she’d purchase them anyway, just because she liked how wearing them made her feel. For a moment, she could pretend she was a radiant princess, or a supermodel, or an intelligent beauty queen, the type no man could resist.
    Kat sat on the edge of her bed with a thump, the cat cracking one eyelid before closing it again. “You’re no help,” Kat told Pippa.
    Frustrated, Kat dug freshly painted fingers into her thigh, all but her thumb crawling like a spider. She should wear the red dress. So what if he’d seen it? This wasn’t a real date. Tonight she would have attended anyway because she believed so strongly in the work Pet Rescue did.
    So red dress it was. Except for now the cat slept on it, and she’d need to take a lint brush to it.
    Kat wrinkled her nose and frowned. Why was it that when nothing should matter, it always did? At least her hair had gone up into the knot without issues. Her hair, that unruly brown mess, hadn’t disobeyed tonight. One small blessing.
    Kat stood up, walked into the spare bedroom, and threw open the closet