The Christmas Pickup Page 2
For the most part, people seem to be staying off the roads, which is a good thing.
“Guess I’m not the only one who listens to Mary Reed,” I say to myself.
Before the words are out of my mouth I see an alert on my phone.
Mary Reed has posted a live video. Yes, I do have push notifications in place for any and all of her updates. Are you surprised?
I slow to a complete stop while I watch the video. It’s a shot of her face and she’s in her car, looking as perky and beautiful as ever. “I have a confession to make. I don’t want anyone to worry but I’m stuck in a snow bank on Highway 61 outside of town. That’s right folks, I didn’t take my own advice. But I don’t want you to worry, I have food and water and I’m completely fine.”
My blood runs cold.
She might be a plucky little female who knows how to handle herself, but something comes over me. I cannot let her stay out in this mess. Alone.
I toss my phone aside and get going. I’m on my way to find my weather girl.
I make my way to Highway 61 while wondering what the hell she’s doing all the way out there when everybody knows she lives downtown near the television station. Not that I’ve ever driven past her house for no reason. OK maybe like twice a week.
Soon enough I’m on the highway,
And there it is. A green car off in the distance. Not that I know what Mary Reed’s car looks like. Only a weirdo would make an effort to know what his TV crush’s car looks like.
Although these are white-out conditions, from up here in the cab, I can see OK. There’s a person, a female, standing outside. pulling up her jeans. The car’s hazard lights are blinking.
Female, alone at night, on the road, outside of town? This is not good. Suspecting that this female is Mary Reed triggers my protective side to a whole other level.
I start to slow way down as I get closer.
Sweet Lord, it is Mary Reed. I know I was specifically looking for her but I can’t believe it was so easy to find her. I don’t believe in destiny, but this feels like it.
I ease the truck to a stop behind her car, and then I see her face. She’s got a heavy coat, boots, hat and hood on, but she’s got my heart pounding outside of my chest. I’d know those eyes and that smile from a mile away. In real life, even in a snowstorm, my weather girl is not just beautiful. She’s phenomenal.
You know what else I can spot from a mile away?
A Christmas present from the Universe.
Chapter 4
Mary
Curiously, the tow truck driver is exiting via the passenger side door.
In one swift cat-like move he’s out of his truck and running past me and opening the driver door of my car.
For half a second I wonder if I’m about to be carjacked.
But I realize how preposterous that is in the middle of a snowstorm. I see the writing “Bear Bailey Towing” on the side of the truck. Bailey? Seriously?
Well, there’s no way anybody with a tow truck business would want to steal my car. I see that he’s turning off my hazards, grabbing my blanket and emergency kit.
The next half second I’m preoccupied with the thought that he might be stealing from me. But again, that doesn’t seem likely.
Just when I wonder what’s going to happen next, he’s got me in his arms. He literally scoops me up off my feet, and he’s lifting me up into the cab of his truck like I weigh nothing.
It’s hard to determine his features while my eyes are being pelted with snow, but his arms are strong and he’s tall and lean, even under the work overalls and coat he’s wearing. Nobody has ever swept me off my feet before and I can’t lie, it gives me a tiny thrill. I’m a modern woman and all, but a little bit of chivalry on Christmas Eve lights a warm little cinder in my belly.
The driver gently but quickly sets me into the cab and then follows me inside, slamming the door.
“You don't need to…” I start, but I can’t finish because I’m speechless. This man is climbing on top of me.
I gasp.
He gruffly says, “Driver side door is frozen shut. Just trying to switch places with you, unless you know how to drive stick, Mary Reed.”
My mouth forms an O, but I don't make any noise because I don’t know whether to be embarrassed by my own assumptions or by the fact that his abdomen sweeping hard across mine has awakened a latent arousal in me.
I wiggle this way, he inches that way, and soon we've successfully switched seats.
“Thought it would be easier this way than me turning into a popsicle while trying to get it open,” he says. “Sorry if that was a little too close for comfort.”
It occurs to me that he could have entered the truck first and pulled me in, but I’m still feeling tingly all over from being in his arms. Even if he is a total stranger.
Because, he’s a nice stranger. A tall, strong stranger.
He’s buckling me in. I protest, but he’s just doing it anyway. “I can buckle…you don’t have to do that…”
Click.
His hand is still on the seat belt clip by my hip and his other hand is adjusting the strap at my opposite shoulder.
It’s now that I get a good look at his face.
Whoa.
And then he grins at me and says, “Bear. Bear Bailey. Nice to meet you. You OK?” His full lips when they smile are full of mischief but not threatening, and he’s got the kind of creases all over his forehead and by his eyes that betray the kindest of natures. Just like my Jimmy Stewart.
Don’t do that, Mary, I say to myself. Don’t go equating helpful tow truck drivers with your fantasy dreamboat.
“Your last name is Bailey?”
He nods. “As in all things Christmas. Irish cream and George.”
I blush.
A news chyron flashes through my head before I can stop it. “Bear Bailey: hottest of all the tow truck drivers in the city? Take our Twitter poll! #stonefoxtowtruckdriver.”
He has flashing irises that remind me of a warm fireplace. He has full, sharp eyebrows that are knitted together in concern. A nice nose that looks like it’s seen a few fists or close contact with a football tackle in its time. His jawline and cheekbones look like you could cut paper on them.
I catch myself getting lost in his eyes for a minute, and dammit if the walls of my sex don’t contract in response.
He sees my cheeks flush in reaction to him and his grin goes bigger. His teeth are nice, but he has a charmingly crooked front tooth. His lips are oh-so nice to look at, full and luscious enough to be the envy of any pouty-lipped male model. He has shy little dimple, just on one cheek. I can’t decide if the look he’s giving me is full bad boy or charming do-gooder.
Sweet Lord. Bear Bailey is half old-timey World War II hero and half ruffian. And 100 percent under my skin.
Chapter 5
Bear
“I’m Mary. Mary Reed. You must have seen my video and found me. But you know, I didn’t call for a tow,” she says.
I smile at her and finally let go of her seat belt. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is damp where it’s peeking out from under her stocking cap.
I ignore her remark about not calling for a tow. “I’m glad to see you own a winter hat,” I say. “I worry about you, the way you stand outside in the freezing cold in front of the camera.”
She’s been outside long enough to get pummeled by the wind and snow, and I wish I had something to take the chill off.
Well, I do, in fact, have a very large something to take the chill off, but she’s not ready for that yet.
I know, what a creepy thing to think in the 30 seconds after helping someone. But damn. Being this close to her and feeling what I’m feeling...and it’s been a long time since...well let’s just say it’s hard not to think about getting her into my warm bed.
I rifle through her emergency kit to find something other than my body to warm her up. She’s got junk food, water and vodka. “Well, you prepared for a party,” I say.
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br /> She seems agitated the more I riffle around in the kit. “Um yes, there’s nothing else in there…”
I grab on to the end of something that looks like a flashlight. It’s purple and has a button on the end of the handle. “Flashlight?”
“Um, it’s…” she says. “My massager. Never mind that, it’s just a neck massager that helps with migraines.”
When I click the button, no light comes on, but it vibrates. And that’s when I see the silhouette of it in the darkness.
“Oh,” I say, “how do I turn this off…”
She grabs for it in the dark. "Here, you just click it two more times and… OK, it’s off. Oh my god.”
I toss my head back and laugh. Her face turns three shades of crimson. "Wow, you really aren't messing around with your emergency kit.”
“Nope. I mean yep. I mean, shut up, let’s go."
I shrug and throw the truck into gear. "No big deal. Nice to know my favorite local weather girl is actually a human being."
Her cheeks are so red they’re almost pulsating.
But it doesn't change the fact that Mary Reed is ten times as beautiful in person as she is on TV.
“I’m extremely human. I’m so human I can’t pay you for a tow. Christmas presents pretty much broke the bank this year,” she says.
“Well, then it’s a good thing I can’t tow your car out until morning. Not safe for me to be towing vehicles on these country roads.”
This is sort of a lie. I could effortlessly hook up her little Toyota and safely drop it at the garage tonight as well as see her home safely. But I don’t want her driving anywhere else tonight. Something tells me she might be the kind of woman with a one-track mind.
Too bad, because I’m not letting her out of my sight.
“OK, so you’re…what? Giving me a ride out of the goodness of your heart?”
I nod. “Exactly. Where were you headed? And why? I do believe I saw your weather report earlier tonight, warning everyone to not do exactly what you were just doing.”
She sighs. “I was just going to go home and be alone tonight as usual, but then…then I changed my mind and wanted to go see my friend Jenna. She lives on Black Angus Trail. Thought I’d ride out the blizzard with her and some friends.”
“What kind of friends would have you drive in a blizzard?”
“Drunk friends. Fun friends. Friends trying to set me up on dates,” she says.
I’ve never had this kind of reaction to the idea of an attractive girl being hit on by someone else before, but suddenly I’ve got the primal urge to take charge of tonight.
“Oh, that is absolutely not happening tonight, my weather girl,” I say.
She shifts in her seat.
“First of all, you can stop calling me ‘weather girl.’ I graduated with honors, I’ll have you know. You can just call me Mary. Second, yes, you can take me to that party. In fact, I’ll put it into your GPS right now.” Her hand searches the dash futilely.
I bite out, “Ain’t got GPS in here. The Snow Angel knows its way by memory anywhere you want to go in this county. And it doesn’t matter. There is no way I’m taking my weather girl to a blizzard party with a bunch of drunk, single people. No way.”
I navigate my way back toward town and hope she doesn't object too strongly.
Doesn’t matter if she does or not. She clearly doesn't know how to keep herself safe.
And that’s fine. I’ll be seeing to that from now on.
Chapter 6
Mary
I’m not entirely sure where he’s taking me, but then again, I’m not sure if we’re driving on an actual road. Or if this truck is still right side up or in the Upside Down World from Stranger Things.
My body heat is doing its thing now. Combined with the heat blasting from the vents in Bear Bailey’s truck cab. I take off my hood and my hat, unbuttoning and wiggling out of my overcoat. I comb out my snow- and sweat-damp hair with my fingers. I am a hot mess of melted snow and fruity-smelling hairspray.
While I do this, I think I hear a low, quiet growl coming from the driver seat.
I glance over and see that Bear has his eyes on the road. He looks normal, other than the fact that he’s yanking off his stocking cap and unzipping his coat.
His hair is also damp and his face is flushed.
"So what are you doing out here in this weather, just rescuing people out of the insane goodness of your heart?” I ask.
He says, “Got nothing else to do on a Christmas Eve. People are trying to get where they’re going. They might need help. I have the truck to help them.”
I bite my lip as I try not to let this warm my heart too much. It does anyway. “I bet your wife or girlfriend would disagree with that.”
I see Bear smirk. “No wife. No girlfriend. Nice interview technique you got there, though. You could have just asked if I was single, like I was about to ask you.”
Something invisible flutters with delight down deep between my legs. Bear’s interest in me is becoming clearer. All the logical parts of me tell me he could be a creep. But somehow, I know he’s not.
“I find it hard to believe you’re single,” I say, regretting it as soon as it’s out of my mouth. I instantly feel ashamed about being too forward.
But Bear doesn’t react other than to glance over at me and show that little dimple again. His sandy, stubbly chin looks as sweet as a Christmas cookie. One I’d really like to take a nibble out of.
We are flirting now, aren’t we? This is outright, blatant flirting. I haven’t done this in earnest in…well I don’t know if I've ever blatantly flirted with a man. Boys? Yes. Men? Never.
I’m 26 and in the middle of an upward career climb, which doesn’t give me much time to date.
Bear, however, is clearly good at this.
“Oh, I see. You’re a player, is that it? I should have guessed,” I say.
I’m only half joking. But his face turns dark.
“Not at all,” he says.
“Are you kidding? Look at you! You must have girls lined up around the block waiting to go out with you.”
He slows the truck to a crawl and looks me straight in the face. “You like the way I look?”
I bite my lip. “It's not entirely unpleasant.”
He laughs. “Glad to know that.”
I persist. “So tell me how it’s possible you’re not attached. Some chick do you wrong?”
The smile disappears from his lips and his face goes darker than before. Oh, yeah. There’s a story there.
He’s just not ready to tell it yet.
He reaches over and I think he’s going to grab my leg. My breath catches.
“Relax,” he says, opening the glove box. “Grab that CD and pop it in. This will explain why I'm still single.”
I do as he says, and something totally unexpected happens. After a few moments, I hear the soundtrack to the Walt Disney adaptation of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
“Oh my gosh,” I gasp. “I used to have this record when I was a kid, and I wore it out!”
He smiles. “My favorite thing to listen to at Christmastime.”
I squeal like a little girl, but I’m too excited to be embarrassed as childhood memories come flooding back. “Whenever I heard Goofy’s Jacob Marley, and those spooky chains coming up the stairs, I had to jump onto my bed and pull the covers over me. I was afraid something was going to grab my ankles. Is that weird?”
Bear’s smile is getting so big he’s beaming.
“Not as weird as this,” he says, and then all of a sudden he launches into all the voices in sync with the CD, doing both Scrooge McDuck with a perfect Scottish accent and the full squawking Donald Duck voice as nephew Fred.
“Merry Christmas!” he quacks.
Oh. My. God.
This is a little weird, but…
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a man more.
Chapter 7
Bear
Yeah, it’s a little weird but…
I have to put on the Disney CD to defuse the sexual tension.
The way she just peeled off her coat and hat. Shit on a fruitcake. Her little body hiding underneath that coat is even cuter than on television. Because, of course it is.
Her breasts in that red sweater are now live and three-dimensional now. Her face is relaxed and doesn’t have that authoritative air that she has live on the air. Though, I gotta admit, I kinda like that authoritative air about her.
I catch her eye while she’s laughing at my line-by-line mimicry, and her eyes are wide in surprise, but also fascinated. As I keep going with the Scrooge McDuck “Bah! Humbug!” speech, she’s soon doubled over and putting a hand to her chest.
I thought all of this would make my impure thoughts about her calm down. Dirty thoughts. Filthy thoughts.
But the sound of her laughter and knowing I made it happen, it’s making everything worse.
She’s got an incredibly sexy laugh, like small shards of pure ice tumbling into a whiskey glass.
It makes me wonder what her voice will sound like when I take her in my bed.
She keeps laughing like that, we’re not gonna be able to wait until we get to my bed. It’s gonna happen right here in the cab of my truck.
I can’t stop making her laugh, though. Pretty soon, she’s dabbing at her eyes.
“I thought I was fine waiting out the storm alone in my car, but this is a Christmas miracle,” she says, sitting up and catching her breath. “I love you!”
I stop my silly antics and put my eyes back on the road. She covers her mouth in shock at herself. “I mean I love your sense of humor. I love people…with your sense of humor.”
The smirk that crosses my face is untamable. I say, “I know exactly what you meant.”
I’m not totally sure how to transition from here.
Which is probably why the Universe just sent me my next Christmas wish. Another stranded traveler on the road.