CHAPTER ELEVEN Chip
“Were you whistling?”
I turned around and found Bertie hovering over me. I was on the floor restocking antifreeze in our small automotive section.
“No,” I fibbed. “Probably the wind from the storm outside.”
“Liar,” she quipped. “And that was Jingle Bells if I’m not mistaken.”
“Wasn’t me.”
I stuck to my lie. I didn’t want Bertie to notice I was doing my best to get into the holiday spirit after my chat with Mr. Jenkins. I’d woken up that morning and made up my mind to get out of my year-long funk. The thought of ending up an old man, and all alone, scared me shitless.
“Whatever,” she replied, waving me off. “About the storm,” she transitioned, motioning outside.
I stood and looked out the huge front window. The drive I’d cleared for gas customers twenty minutes before was white with snow again. At almost four in the afternoon, daylight was running out.
“You asking to go home early?”
“I’m not asking,” she muttered, making sure I knew she made her own schedule. “I’m letting you know.”
A loud noise got our attention before I could make a snarky comment in reply. We hurriedly made our way down the aisle and to the front window. An expensive-looking SUV had slid into the oversized galvanized steel garbage can we kept in front of the store, knocking it into the building.
“Dumb fuck!” Bertie hissed. “Who the hell drives recklessly in this weather?”
I pushed the door open with all my strength as it struggled to open against the weight of the trash can.
The vehicle backed up slightly and came to a stop.
I couldn’t see through the windshield because the wipers were off and snowfall was quickly accumulating.
Bertie joined me outside, and we waited and watched.
“This ought to be good,” Bertie announced.
Nothing from inside the vehicle. Another minute or so ticked by. “Hello?” I asked.
Nothing still. Bertie, with her usual level of patience, stepped forward and pounded on the hood. “Hey, Numbnuts,” she hollered.
The driver’s side door opened, and after a moment, a young guy stepped from the vehicle. Bertie turned to me after she got a good look. I knew what she was thinking before she said it.
“Don’t,” I whispered under my breath. “Don’t you say a goddamned thing, woman.”
“All is forgiven,” she said, moving toward the stranger and holding out her hand as if he were a long-lost friend. “Come with me, youngin’. This weather is far too cold for a pretty boy like you to be out here in the storm.”
“Jesus!” I grumbled, staring at the guy when he grabbed Bertie’s hand like he knew her, too.
Bertie had him hustled into the mercantile before I could say ‘Marry me.’ They left me staring at strewn trash across the sidewalk, an idling BMW inches from the front door, and a longing in my heart I’d forgotten existed.
Bertie leaned out the door. “Turn his engine off. Then clean that mess up, and get your ass in here, Chip. This young man needs your help.” She winked, conveying that she was already busy matchmaking.
I looked past her and to the man who was now inside.
His back was to me while he looked around the interior of the mercantile.
He had his arms tightly wrapped around himself because he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
I instantly wanted to hold him to warm him up.
Another feeling I hadn’t felt in twelve months.
“Stop it!” I exclaimed, lowering my voice and motioning my head toward the stranger. “He’s obviously a city slicker and an idiot.”
“Who gives a shit what he is?” she said, looking over her shoulder at our unexpected guest. “He’s damn good looking, obviously in distress, and he needs your help.”
“You help him then.”
Bertie pointed at his rig. “Turn that motor off and get your ass in here,” she stated, daring me to disobey.
I kicked the trash away from the door and made my way to the open door of his SUV.
Sliding in, I inhaled a scent I instantly recognized as his.
I’d caught a whiff when he stepped by me with Bertie.
His smell was intoxicating. A light, fresh scent overwhelmed my olfactory senses.
Similar to a shower-fresh scent. Unnatural, yet manly.
A Starbucks cup was in the coffee holder.
Cherry ChapStick next to it in the other holder.
Oddly, I wanted to open the lip balm and smear my lips with it.
An expensive wallet was lying on the passenger seat, a credit card half pulled out.
Maybe he needed gas and lost control of the SUV while digging around for the card.
I glanced up at the visor and noticed a small picture of two men. He was one of the men smiling back at me. He was stunning. The other guy was nice looking as well, but my eyes locked onto his incredible face.
His hair was chestnut brown, with eyes that matched and sparkled like a topaz stone. His eyebrows were thick yet well-groomed, with long lashes that bordered on feminine. I simply couldn’t look away from the image staring back at me.
My heart actually ached at the thought he might leave before I had the chance to profess my instant love. “Calm the fuck down, dude,” I whispered, my breath already fogging the interior because of the door being open.
I shut the SUV off and jumped out. After inhaling brisk air several times, I regained my steely exterior, pushed the silly thoughts of love from my mind, and braced for a waiting Bertie inside.
I knew she was going to embarrass me. She’d been interviewing every good-looking dude who’d come into the store for the past six months.
This candidate was stunning, so I knew what was coming.
When I walked in, Bertie already had the guy in the back of the store at the coffee machine. I didn’t want to spoil her hospitality by telling her he already had expensive coffee in his expensive rig. I doubted a sophisticated city guy would drink our swill.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I heard him say, accepting her cup of black coffee and taking a healthy-sized drink of it. “Mmmm,” he added, flashing teeth that could endorse any toothpaste brand I’d ever heard of.
“You’re welcome, son,” she replied, deploying a charm she reserved for special occasions. Or special people. Or attractive older gentlemen. A smile reserved for possible husbands for her, or young hot guys like him, who she envisioned would want me.
He turned to face me, and I handed him his keys. “I locked it,” I said, lost in his gaze.
“Thank you,” he responded.
His voice was boyish. Not exactly manly, but definitely not a feminine voice. I was unsure whether I’d have pegged him as gay if I hadn’t seen the picture of him and his boyfriend or husband. My senses knew he was half of a male partnership. I was jealous.
“You probably shouldn’t be on the roads,” I added, doing my best not to sound like I was scolding him.
I faced the front of the store, unable to win the contest of us staring at one another.
I looked awful. I hadn’t shaved that morning.
My flannel shirt was three days into a possible week-long wearing.
My Levi’s were my worst pair, with most of the crotch worn out and likely to be sagging in the butt region.
I wondered if I smelled bad even though I’d showered the night before.
“I guess I didn’t expect the suddenness of the weather change,” he said, sounding lost and defeated. I turned to face him as he continued. “I’m not great at seeing signs of danger.”
His statement had me wondering what he meant. I guess his admission didn’t matter as much as my reaction to it. I instantly wanted to protect him. I needed to rescue him. But he had a man. The picture proved that.
“You’re alone?” I asked, noticing Bertie slowly back away after realizing I was engaging with him. Her stepping away was a change from her usual interfering ways.
“Yes,” he answered. “But I was planning on stopping here.”
His statement surprised me. “Here? In Missile?”
He visibly shivered. “Mm hmmm,” he hummed. I glanced at his feet. His expensive loafers were wet from the short time he’d stepped through eight inches of snow when he came inside.
“Do you have friends here?” I asked, knowing he didn’t, because everyone knew everyone, and their friends and family, in this town.
“Initially, I came for the cheap gas,” he began.
“But there isn’t a hotel here, and the snow got worse.
I passed St. Re… St. Ron….” His cute little nose scrunched up like a little boy’s would do when deep in thought.
“I forgot the name,” he said, laughing at himself and raising a thumb over his shoulder. “The town back that way.”
He was adorable. Irresistibly so. He had the smoothest complexion I’d ever seen.
I wondered if he shaved. My eyes locked in on his purple-ish lips as they quivered uncontrollably, even though he didn’t lose his sweet way of speaking.
Innocent. He appeared so innocent. The description stuck in my brain, making me want him even more.
“St. Regis,” I said. “And yes, they have a motor lodge there.”
His coltish eyes looked up at me, barely managing to see through his delicate lashes. “Do you think I can make it back there tonight?”
“No, you cannot!” Bertie hollered from the register. For an older woman, she had the hearing of an owl. “You will absolutely not get back on those roads tonight, young man.”
He glanced at me as if he recognized what I must deal with on a daily basis. “Bossy much?” he asked, grinning.
I nodded. “Very,” I chuckled.
His hands were wrapped around the Styrofoam cup, absorbing every bit of warmth from the coffee.
His tasteful button-down shirt hugged a fit chest, and a slim waist was accented by an elegant-looking belt.
I’d seen men like this in fashion magazines.
I’d sworn I hated those types on sight, but now I was unsure if that was true.
He was classy without acting so. He had a unique ability to appear kind, even if it turned out he wasn’t. I figured first impressions must be easy for him. Unlike me, who I thought most people saw as a bit too bristly for most tastes, he was a natural at seeming warm.
“Do you have warm clothes in your SUV?” I inquired, glancing at his feet and motioning with my hand. “Those shoes and the bottom edges of your jeans look soaked.”
“I do,” he answered. “A lot of clothes and luggage,” he added. “I’m going to Denver. A job possibility. A new start and stuff. Maybe a new life and adventure.”
He stopped rambling and began to blush. “And?” I asked, trying to keep him talking. He’d said, new life. New adventure. I wondered about the guy in the picture in the BMW? I hoped for as much intel as I could from him.
“I tend to ramble,” he explained. “My mom says I’m an open book. Maybe too open.”
“My mom said the opposite about me,” I surprisingly admitted. “I tend to be more of the quiet type.”
We locked eyes. I was trying to read his mind, hoping he found me as charming as I found him. I felt an overwhelming desire to tell him my life story, completely out of character, and I wanted to know everything about his.
Time stood still as we continued ogling one another.
I was maybe a couple of inches taller than he was.
My mind took a mental note, wondering how we’d fit if I walked up to him and kissed him right then and there.
Did he taste like cherry lip balm? Was his face as smooth as it looked if I nuzzled his cheek? Get a grip, Chip.
“I guess I’ll try to make it back to St. Regis,” he whispered, glancing outside with trepidation clearly written on his face.
I was running out of questions and ways to keep him from going. The thought of him disappearing from my life before I showed him my best traits seemed unacceptable. What was it about him? I hadn’t felt the need to protect so intensely since when? Since John?
Why was I suddenly so twisted inside and heartsick over a stranger? There’d been dozens of strangers who had rolled in and chatted with me the past year. Some were smoking hot, too. This guy was pulling at my heart in a major way. He pushed all the buttons that caused me to want him.
He moved past me and made his way to the front door. Bertie to the rescue. She stepped in front of the door. I’d been stuck to the floor like my boots were nailed to it, but she wasn’t letting this stunning creature past her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“I need a hotel, ma’am.”
Bertie glanced my way. I hurried over.
“You can… um… You can stay with me,” I uttered, clearing my throat and walking up beside him.
“I have a spare bedroom you’re welcome to until the storm passes.
I’d like to help you out. You know, and stuff like that.
” I suddenly had diarrhea of the mouth. I couldn’t shut up.
“You’d be safer here. Here in Missile. You did say you were coming to Missile, didn’t you? ” I stammered.
He turned to face me, and I caught Bertie’s eye as she smiled from behind his back, shaking her head as I rambled on about nothing. I knew she wanted to say, ‘Smooth move, Chip.’ I also knew she was impressed with my attempts.
“Really?” he asked. “You’d do that for a stranger?”
All I managed to do was nod.