Reid
“Ridiculous,” I mutter to myself as I change the radio station again.
Honestly, I should know better. The only music they play in December is Christmas music. And I’m all jingled out. I finally left Chicago a month ago and I’ve been drifting from one town to another since.
The latest stop on the road map? Hope Peak. It’s a nice little town full of whimsical charm but it’s not for me. I could stomach the snow angel competition and the overly cheerful townsfolk, but they don’t need another mechanic.
They already got August’s Auto Body & Repair and he’s not hiring.
Plenty of towns need mechanics but he doesn’t.
It’s no big deal. I’ll stay here through Christmas and New Year’s.
Then I’ll head towards Colorado. I got a buddy up there who is getting married soon.
Nicholas signed up to be a mail order groom and according to his texts it’s working out for him and his bride.
Mariah Carey blasts through the speakers of my truck.
“Nope, nope, nope.”
Blissful silence fills the cab. This was the push I needed. I’m going to upgrade the stereo so I can connect my phone and not be left to the mercy of radio hosts. It’s an easy install but after restoring that 1969 Chevy Chevelle I haven’t wanted to take on any personal projects.
I love working on cars but the last thing I want to do after working eight hours in a hot shop is to work on my own. Usually, I’m too tired and irritated by people who don’t understand the difference between conventional and synthetic oil trying to tell me how to do my job.
With nothing but time to kill while I wait out the holidays, I’ve got all the time in the world to replace that stereo.
I’m almost back to Hope Peak when I see the poor girl. 1997 Silver Metallic Honda Civic parked on the side of the road. Probably overheated while it was trying to climb the mountain. The car’s a dinosaur and it wasn’t built for these roads.
The car has a thin coating of snow on the roof, but the windshield is clear. Someone broke down between the time I left to run errands and now. Then I see her.
Silver blonde curls escaping her knit hat and a black sweater too thin to be practical in this weather.
It does even less to hide the curves of her body.
She turns to face me, and even from a distance her beauty distracts me.
Luminescent blue eyes sit above a slightly crooked nose scattered with freckles and a pair of lips pale from the cold.
It's the frantic waving of her companion that keeps me from blowing past the pair. I’m distracted. Every movement of my body feels wrong. Like someone else is controlling my arms like I’m a puppet. I park my truck haphazardly. Fuck. I’m lucky I didn’t steer it into the ditch.
The women watch my approach. One with wary apprehension and the other with shameless appreciation. Unfortunately, it’s not the right woman eyeing me like a prime cut of steak. It’s her friend.
As I close the distance one thing becomes obvious. She’s young. Too young. The car is older than her for crying out loud. What’s more troubling is how much I don’t care.
“Car trouble?” I ask.
“Yes, it broke down—”
“Are you new in town?” her friend interrupts.
Brown eyes ogle me with heat but the oblivious woman trying to flirt with me doesn’t do it for me. It’s the mild look of irritation the blonde goddess shoots her friend that has my cock hardening against my fly.
“I can take a look,” I offer.
“No need,” the brunette purrs. “My dad will have it towed to August’s.”
I barely spare the other woman a glance as she begins to simper and preen.
“Reid Mercer,” I introduce myself.
“Jodi Sizemore,” she replies, shaking my hand. Her friend introduces herself, but I don’t bother listening.
“Could you give us a ride to Hope Peak?”
“Climb in the truck. I got the chains to tow your car.”
“My dad will—”
“I insist,” I interrupt the woman. My eyes never leave Jodi’s. “You look cold. Hurry up and get in the cab.”
“Someone needs to steer the car if you’re going to use chains…
” Not-Jodi says. I can feel her gaze on me, but I don’t care how it looks to her.
I don’t care how it looks to anyone. They can call me a dirty old man for all I care.
The ten or twelve years between us crumble into dust when I look at Jodi.
“Thanks for volunteering,” I tell her friend.
“Jodi can ride with me,” she tries to argue, ignoring the fact that the woman in question is shivering.
“Does the heat in that rust bucket work?” I ask in a hard tone.
The brunette glares at me with indignation.
“No.” Jodi’s voice is soft and lyrical. I could listen to her sing Christmas songs year-round.
“You’ll ride with me.”
Her friend looks ready to throw a fit, but Jodi is only wearing a thin sweater and eventually she agrees to steer the car while I tow it on chains to Hope Peak.
“That wasn’t very nice. The way you spoke to Amber, I mean.” Her words are admonishing but her tone is flirtatious. She wanted to be alone with me too.
Out of the corner of my eye she sits comfortably in my truck. Shoulders relaxed, fingers turning pink from the heat, and rather than keep an eye on the icy road all her attention is fixated on me. I love that she already trusts me to take care of her.
“I’m not a nice person.”
“You’re towing my car.”
“This is the bare minimum,” I mutter. “Any half decent man wouldn’t leave your car on the side of the road.”
She hums noncommittedly.
“If you say so.” The headlights glint off the snowbanks as the road curves. “Do you live in town?”
“I could,” I murmur too low for her to hear. Then louder, “Just passing through. I’m working my way towards Colorado.”
“No way!” Jodi shouts with enthusiasm. “I’m from Colorado!”
My eyebrows jump as her hand lands on my arm.
“I’m on my way home for Christmas. Just dropping Amber off on the way.”
“No kidding?” I ask.
“Nope,” she says. “My entire family lives in Crescent Ridge.”
My head swivels to stare at the blonde sitting in the middle of my truck bench with both her arms wrapped around mine. She’s so happy. So genuine. I can’t believe it.
“Do you know a man named Nicholas?” I ask. “He lives on the ridge with his wife.”
“No, but I’ve been away at college.”
The reminder of our age gap should sting but it doesn’t.
“What’s his wife’s name?” she asks.
Wincing, I rack my brain for the name of his bride. I come up empty.
“It’s a tiny town,” she says. “Give me anything.”
“She runs a Christmas tree farm.”
“Noel got married?!” Jodi shouts as she squeezes my arm.
That would be her. I remember because I thought it was funny that Nicholas was marrying a woman with a Christmas themed name. Nick and Noel. It’s straight out of a children’s picture book. Or a sappy hallmark movie.
“He flew out there a couple of weeks ago. Not sure if they got married yet, but I know they were engaged.”
“Is he nice?” Her question catches me off guard, but my answer comes easy. Nicholas is the type of man who makes the rest of us look bad. He’s too trusting for his own good.
“You’ll never meet a better man,” I tell her.
Her relief is palpable and my curiosity is piqued but I’d rather not waste this precious time asking questions about her friends back home. I want to know her. Find out what makes her tick. What kind of man she’s looking for.
“I don’t know…” she trails off, her eyes burning a path of awareness down my body. “You seem like the kind of man, a woman can depend on.”
My cock is harder than brick and focusing on the road just got infinitely more difficult. I’m lucky it’s a straight shot to town or I’d worry about making a wrong turn.
“Are you blushing?” she teases.
A denial is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to play coy with Jodi. I want no games between us. This attraction we share isn’t meant for a shallow tryst. It’s deeper than that.
“I can fix your car,” I tell her instead. It gives me a reason to see her again, and more time to talk to her.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I interject. As the warm glow of Hope Peak comes into view, I realize I’m running out of time. “Let me take care of you.”
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I realize how intense I sound. I’ve skipped thirty reasonable steps between meeting this woman and falling in love with her. Maybe more.
I’ve never been the man to sit back and watch life pass me by. When I decide I want something, I reach for it.
Jodi Sizemore is no different.
I want her to be mine more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.
The guys back home in Chicago would laugh their asses off if they could see the way she has me hooked. I’m ready for her to laugh it off and downplay my words. But she doesn’t.
“Buy me a latte.”