The Christmas Pickup Read online

  The Christmas Pickup

  Abby Knox

  Copyright © 2018 by Abby Knox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Mayhem Cover Creations

  The book is dedicated to the random nice dude who once picked up my stubborn ass in a blizzard at night. I still can’t drive worth a damn in snow.

  Merry Christmas!

  Contents

  The Christmas Pickup

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Abby Knox

  Coming in January 2018 from Abby…

  The Christmas Pickup

  By Abby Knox

  Tow truck driver Bear Bailey is the city’s unsung hero on Christmas Eve, out rescuing stranded motorists in the decade’s worst snowstorm. When he happens to spot the cute local weather girl stuck on the side of the road, his Christmas wish has just come true. He’ll be picking her up, but has no plans to drop her off anytime soon.

  Meteorologist Mary Reed knows all too well she shouldn’t be out driving in weather like this. But she has very good reasons. Her car ends up in a snow drift, because of course it does, and it seems like her Christmas Eve plans might be a bust. Out of nowhere, a hot and possessive tow truck driver rolls up and snatches her out of the blizzard. Plans? What plans?

  The connection is instant, but there’s only one problem: there’s lots of other people out there in need of help before Bear can get a taste of Mary’s “Christmas cookies!”

  WARNING: This book is short, sweet, smutty and full of as much toasty-warm blue balls as you can stand. This is full of snowstorm shenanigans with a quirky cast of characters alongside the a kind-hearted, possessive alpha and the sassy heroine. A happily ever after and a Merry Christmas guaranteed!

  Chapter 1

  Bear

  Heavy snow is blanketing my driveway tonight, and the wind is just beginning to pick up and whip all the white stuff into a frenzy.

  Pretty soon, the drifts will swoop halfway up my front steps and the street will be invisible.

  But it’s all child’s play to the monstrosity parked out front. The only tires bigger than those on my tow truck belong on a tractor. Not to mention the enormous snowplow I added on the front end. There’s nothing my sweet Snow Angel can’t plow through. Yeah, it’s a sissy nickname for a tow truck, but I dare you to say that to my face.

  The small city I live in may appear like a winter wonderland on Christmas Eve. It certainly is that way for everyone who may be tucked snugly into the warm living rooms, next to their Christmas trees and lit fireplaces. But for anyone out there on the roads, it’s a nightmare.

  I’m watching the news, and it doesn’t look good.

  The local weather girl is telling me the overnight blizzard is going to create white-out conditions on all major roads tonight. Slick surfaces out on the country roads.

  After a while, I’m barely registering what she’s saying. So why am I watching this?

  The weather she’s describing may be ugly, but she is anything but. Sweet gingerbread, is she beautiful.

  I’ve admired her on the television from the comfort of my living room for years.

  Our local news station is relatively low key in this small city of about 50,000 people, so they aren’t really uptight about the dress code on Christmas Eve night. Tonight she’s wearing a fitted red sweater with elves all over it, and dangly wreath earrings. And I notice she’s wearing her snowflake scarf. She rotates between that one, a red one with candy canes and a white one with holly berries every winter season. I don’t know shit about fashion, but I take notice of everything when it comes to her.

  She’s also wearing black jeans that are nice and tight. The whole ensemble shows off some sweet curves and she’s jutting one hip out as she talks. Her voice feels like my favorite Christmas carol.

  “I’m standing outside the Weather Center right now, and as you can see,” the indomitable Mary Reed says as she gestures around, “the snow is already falling pretty heavily and the wind gusts are getting stronger by the minute. I advise everyone to stay off the roads if you can. If you’re not already at your Christmas Eve destinations, I strongly suggest you stay where you are. It’s better to stay safe than to get to that party tonight, folks.”

  She ought to take her own advice and wear a coat and a hat outside. But I’m not going to complain about the way her sassy little hip owns its space and holds dominion over me while she’s smiling for the camera. Sometimes I think she should have been a model. But then she wouldn’t live in this city and I’d lose my weather girl. And that would not be acceptable.

  Mary Reed’s sleek, shoulder-length brown hair, as always, has been hair-sprayed within an inch of its life. I’ve seen it wild and soft and sexy, falling across my pillow. At least, when I close my eyes at night, I have. When I close my eyes and dream of the perfect woman, it’s Mary Reed’s hair woven between my fingers. Her dark, silky locks are the only ones I imagine feathering across my abs while her soft, thick lips tease their way down…

  But that’s a Christmas fantasy. Plenty of eligible bachelors in this city are probably lined up if she’s not already taken. Guys with way more money and more interesting jobs than me.

  I turn off the TV and lace up my boots. Pull on my stocking cap and gloves and grab my keys.

  As soon as Martha, light of my life, hears the jingle of keys, she comes running.

  I open the door and she bounds outside. I have to hustle to open the tow truck door for her, and as soon as I do, she launches herself into the cab. Unlike most of my passengers, like my mom, Martha doesn't require the use of the extra-long running boards I had installed.

  I drive the few blocks to my mom’s house, and even in that span of five minutes, the wind is really starting to blow. Snowbanks are creeping up the sides of houses and buildings. Sidewalks are already covered over with sleek white sheets.

  And it’s just getting started. Tonight is gonna be a bitch.

  Mom opens the door as soon I head up the walk. Martha runs to her. Mom gives Martha a hug even before she puts her arm around her own son’s neck. It’s OK though, that’s the effect Martha has on people.

  “Have you eaten? I have soup.”

  She’s always looking out for me. She makes too much food for herself and insists on sharing. Hopefully one day she’ll have a bunch of grandkids to focus on instead of trying to fatten me up.

  “I’m not coming inside, Ma, I don’t wanna get snow everywhere. Besides Mary Reed says we’re gonna get pounded tonight, so I’m headed out.”

  Mom knows me too well and smirks at me. “She’s a cute one, that Mary Reed. You should write her a letter!”

 
“Ma, come on. I’m not a creep.”

  “It’s not creepy! She would love you.” Mom pops over to kiss me and I have to bend down so she can reach my forehead. Then she taps me on the cheek. “Who wouldn’t love this face?”

  “Any woman in her right mind?”

  “Don’t say such things about my son. You be careful tonight.”

  “Always am, Ma. Thanks for taking Martha.”

  I say goodbye to my mom, telling her I’ll be back tomorrow for Christmas lunch with her and Martha.

  Tonight, I’ve got other things on my mind than women.

  Chapter 2

  Mary

  “Merry Christmas, fellas,” I say as the last of the news crew files out the door. I’ve got a giant red sack full of presents and I’m wearing my favorite green sequined elf hat. I have twelve more hats like this at home, some with faux fur, some bedazzled. I may have an addiction to these things.

  I’ve been the chief meteorologist for our middle-market TV station for the past several years, and this is my favorite night of the year to work.

  Christmas Eve.

  Nothing makes me happier than signing off the nightly news with the annual Santa’s sleigh radar update. I get a huge kick out of picturing thousands of parents trundling their little kids off to bed, citing my radar report.

  What I love even more than adding to the Christmas spirit on TV is handing out gifts to the crew.

  Because my face is on TV and social media, I receive more gifts from strangers than I care to admit. You would not believe the cards, letters, flowers and sweet messages that show up to the station every day for the anchors and for me, even at a relatively small station such as ours.

  But no viewers ever has a care for the people behind the camera. Not to brag, but I’ve taken it upon myself to make that my job.

  Every year, I go out and buy a few little things—coffee shop gift cards, woolen socks, hand warmers, coffee mugs—OK, fine, I go completely overboard—and pass them out to everyone working at the station on Christmas Eve.

  I’m not telling you this to make you think I’m such a generous person. I’m telling you this so you understand why I don’t get an early enough start on the roads this evening. So you understand how I find myself driving in a snowstorm—against my own advice—trying to get to my friend Jenna’s Christmas Eve party.

  Jenna is my boss, our news editor, and also happens to be my best friend. She’s about ten years older than me but has been like a mother to me ever since my mom and dad passed away in a car wreck when I was fresh out of school.

  Jenna gave me my first job as a reporter and helped convince the corporate media bigwigs at our parent company to fund my meteorology and atmospheric sciences studies at night.

  Jenna took today off from work to get ready for the holiday and even offered to have me over for Christmas Eve tonight. I told her I would think about it. I’m half tempted to hole up in my house with It’s a Wonderful Life and some Chinese takeout. It’s not that I’m antisocial. I love Jenna’s parties. But as I get older, the harder it is to go to holiday parties alone. I’m a bit of an old soul who believes in love at first sight. My parents and grandparents both told me stories about how they knew the moment they met their true loves. They were of a generation that wasted no time.

  As yet, there simply has not been any man who’s flipped that switch in me.

  So, watching George Bailey and Mary Hatch fall in love in black and white is my Christmas Eve jam in recent years.

  Tonight though, I just have this feeling that I’ll never meet my George Bailey — pillar of the community, hard worker, believer in the little guy, passionate husband and sweet father — if I stay home with my Chinese takeout.

  The rest of the crew take off in their SUVs and pickups outfitted with snow tires. I start up my Toyota. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s never broken down on me yet. I should have invested in snow tires. I usually wait until January to put on those things. We don’t have a ton of snow at Christmas. The worst of the storms come after December.

  But nature did not wait for my plans this year.

  The storm is starting to freak me out a bit and crave some company. And if I’m snowed in, I’d much rather not be alone. There’s another very good reason to go to Jenna’s.

  That’s enough of a sign for me.

  Well, there’s only one thing to do. I phone Jenna as I point my car in the direction of her house.

  “Babe!” she cries. “Are you coming? Oh gosh, I'm so glad you’re not going to be stuck in your house alone with General Tso and suicidal George Bailey tonight. We need you here! We’ve got a seat by the fire waiting just for you.”

  I laugh. “We’ve been over this and we have very different takes on my favorite movie. But I forgive you.”

  Jenna lives in a big house in the country. It’s a calculated risk driving that way. Still, the party noises on the other end of the phone line sure sounded inviting.

  No sooner am I on the dark highway toward Jenna’s than I know this was a bad idea. My car is fishtailing on the snow and ice. Damn these old tires. I recover from the skid and go slower.

  But the wind is picking up even more. The snow is peppering the windshield so fast, all I can see is white.

  My eyes are barely able to identify black patches of pavement to guide me; it’s going to be five miles per hour from here until safety. I turn on my hazards and white knuckle the steering wheel.

  Out of nowhere, my car comes to a complete stop. My foot is still on the gas, but the wheels are not moving. That’s when I notice my front end is completely covered in a snow drift.

  I hadn’t even realized I’d left the road and gone into the ditch. That’s how disorienting the white-out driving can be. I should know better; I just warned my viewers at home about this exact scenario.

  Well, isn’t this a nice bit of luck.

  I try to think what to do next. I can’t call for help. The police and deputies likely are all over the county helping people in true danger.

  I’m not worried, though. I can survive for days in my car with my survival kit: blanket, pillow, a box of Snickers bars, a box of Cheez-its, water, a flashlight, batteries, a flare and most importantly, various other necessities, and a bottle of vodka.

  If my weather predictions are correct today, the blizzard should be past us by morning. As long as no other motorist hits me with their vehicle, I should be fine to camp out here in my car for the night.

  I entertain myself by reading a book on my e-reader for about an hour. I begin to shiver and I turn on the engine to warm up a bit, but only for a few minutes. I need to save fuel and save the car battery.

  I decide to do a live social media video to pass the time. It’s not the best idea to suck up my phone battery, but I do have a juiced up phone charger that doesn’t need to be plugged in. I do a quick, one-minute video, explaining to all the people on my page that I am stuck in a snow drift, but not to worry because I’m perfectly prepared. The likes, hearts, sad and shocked faces are exploding all over my phone screen. It’s very sweet and I’d love nothing more to interact with my people, but ultimately it’s best if I turn off data for now. I never know what might happen, so I need every second of battery life in case of emergency.

  One thing I have not prepared for was having to go to the bathroom. I mean, I have toilet paper, and I have means to sanitize my hands. But I guess I never thought about how exactly a girl goes to the bathroom in a severe snowstorm.

  Maybe I can hold it until morning.

  Nope. Definitely cannot do that.

  I bite my lip and look around at the direction the wind is coming from. I cannot even see the road now. By the way the car is angled, I’m guessing that the passenger side is more or less facing the ditch, which is, of course, filled with several feet of snow and probably the reason my car did not get banged up in the process of getting stuck. That side of the car appears to be the least exposed to the wind, so I act. I grab my supplies and scoot over to the passen
ger side and open the door.

  While I’m outside the car, getting battered by the wind and flying snow, I am at least thankful that Jenna let everyone dress casual today and I don’t have to navigate this horrible night in a skirt suit. Second, I’m grateful that Jenna is my size and will likely have clothes I can borrow as soon as I arrive.

  I finish up what I’m doing as quickly as I can.

  Just as abruptly as my car hitting the snow bank in the ditch, a pair of headlights blind me.

  One second I’m completely lost in a winter wilderness in the blackest night, and the next second, some big-ass truck is bearing down on me.

  Not a semi truck. Not a city snow plow, either.

  It looks like a monster truck. The tires are like those of a tractor. This is an impossibly jacked up thing. No, wait. It’s a tow truck. Hallelujah! I might get to Jenna’s party yet.

  Chapter 3

  Bear

  So far tonight, I’ve picked up a car load of college kids trying to bar crawl their way through the blizzard. They’d gotten their car stuck in a snowdrift at the city pedestrian plaza. Fortunately, their car started just fine and wasn't stuck too badly. I pulled them out and warned them to get themselves home. Slowly. And with a sober driver.

  I stopped by a few accidents where I saw the police already handling the situation. Only one needed my assistance. All the ambulances were busy, so I drove one accident victim to the emergency room to get checked out.