Chapter 15
BECCA
Iwas two sips into my first cup of coffee, hair a disaster, hoodie halfway zipped, when the doorbell rang.
“Expecting anyone?” I asked, raising a brow over the rim of my mug.
Aunt Margie shook her head, robe tied tight, eyes narrowed at the front door like it had personally offended her. “Not unless the HOA finally grew a conscience and decided to deliver warm cinnamon rolls for all the holiday grief.”
She opened the door and the entire morning derailed.
“HO HO HELL YES!” came a loud, gravelly voice as Jinx stepped inside in a Santa hat and leather kutte like he was fronting the world's most chaotic Christmas cover band.
Behind him, Diesel just nodded once, holding something bulky wrapped in a red bow and looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.
“What is happening?” I blinked, setting my mug down.
Jinx strutted forward, shaking an imaginary bell. “Special delivery for Miss Becca Lynn—” he looked at a slip of paper dramatically, “—of Charlotte, North Carolina, currently residing at the residence of one Margie Jeanette Bishop, proud owner of the sassiest fruitcake in Pigeon Forge.”
“What in the hell?” I muttered.
“Per boss’s orders,” Jinx declared, “you are hereby forbidden from driving around in a glorified metal soup can.”
He dangled a set of keys in front of me.
I stared.
“Behold,” he intoned, “your new sleigh. One Ford F-250, snow tires, chains, and a plow fit for a queen. Or at least a woman who refuses to stay outta trouble.”
“What?” I blinked, stunned. “No. No no no. He did not—”
Jinx stepped forward and pressed the keys firmly into my palm. “He did. Don’t argue. You’re on Boss’s orders now.”
I stood there, mouth open like a goldfish, clutching a giant truck key like it was a winning lottery ticket I didn’t ask for.
“Wait—my car—”
“Outta commission,” Diesel said gruffly.
“And tell her,” Jinx added, throwing a wink, “that the DOT said it was the snowplow’s fault. Insurance covered it. Clean slate. You’re golden, darlin’.”
Then they turned like a damn Christmas flash mob and headed out.
“Wait! Wait! You can’t just—”
“We just did!” Jinx called over his shoulder.
They were gone.
I stood in the foyer in my slippers, blinking down at the keys in my hand like they were burning a hole in my palm.
Aunt Margie took a slow sip of her coffee and said, completely unbothered, “Well, that’ll be perfect.”
I turned toward her. “Perfect?! How is this perfect?!”
She smiled, far too pleased with herself. “Because I just got you a job.”
“...Come again?”
“At the community center. They’re desperate for help with events, kid programs, and they pay hourly. You’ll be full time and it comes with health insurance.”
“Margie—!”
She waved a hand. “You’ve got a new truck. A job. And a man who’s clearly ready to move mountains for you. I’d say Christmas came early.”
I looked at the keys again.
Maybe it had. I got dressed, pulled on my boots and had to check this thing out.
I stepped outside and just… stopped.
There it was.
Parked like it had always belonged there.
A Ford F-250, jet black, snow tires gleaming, chains already on, and a literal plow strapped to the front like I was about to go carve a road through the damn Yukon.
I stood on the porch, keys still warm in my palm, mouth open.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.
My phone buzzed.
BEAR
Truck’s a company vehicle. MC-owned. Tax write-off. Don’t go gettin’ mad, city girl.
I stared at the message in disbelief.
Buzz.
BEAR
You can pay me back in kisses.
I laughed out loud. Covered my face. Bit my lip.
And then it came again.
BEAR
Also… about last night. Sorry I got a little caveman. Didn’t mean to put you up against the bricks like that. Got carried away.
My cheeks went hot. Fingers hovered over the screen before I typed back.
ME
Kinda liked it. Wasn’t complaining.
The typing bubble popped up instantly.
BEAR
Round two. My place?
F me, the butterflies.
ME
I have work in the morning. Margie just got me a job at the community center…
A full minute passed before he responded.
BEAR
Babe, you’re killing me.
I smiled, soft and secret.
This was happening.
And for once, I didn’t want to overthink it. I just wanted him.
I texted back.
ME
Then earn it. Ask me out again. Properly.
Seconds later:
BEAR
Tomorrow. 6PM. Dinner. Firelight. Just us. Wear something that’ll drive me insane.
I grinned.
Done.
I don’t even remember walking through the front doors.
One minute I was waving to Aunt Margie, still half-asleep, coffee thermos in one hand, and the next I was dodging a toddler in a tutu doing cartwheels down the hallway while the front desk phone rang like it was on fire.
Apparently, the job was Director of Events, Acting/Temporary/Figure-it-out-as-you-go.
Which translated to: Here’s the keys, good luck.
I’d barely hung up my coat before three people shoved clipboards at me, asking about rental times, updated flyers, and the missing DJ for the senior holiday sock hop scheduled for Friday night. (Didn’t even know sock hops still existed. Learned something new.)
By ten-thirty, I’d coordinated a snowman-themed toddler dance recital, calmed down a mom who thought her son’s Nutcracker role was “too gendered,” and fielded seventeen voicemails from local vendors wanting to sponsor the Holiday Festival.
By eleven, I’d forgotten what food was.
By noon, I’d eaten half a crushed granola bar from the bottom of my purse while speed-walking to the gym to fix the Bluetooth speaker before the Tinsel & Taps Jazz class mutinied.
It was chaos.
It was mayhem.
It was the opposite of Charlotte corporate life, where every calendar invite had to be color-coded and cleared by a manager before you so much as ordered lunch.
And somehow… I loved it.
There was something raw and real about it here. People’s expectations were high, but their hearts were in it. It mattered. These events — the recitals, the tree lighting, the tiny glitter-covered ballerinas — meant something to this town.
And somehow, they trusted me with it.
That felt… big.
My phone buzzed sometime mid-afternoon while I was knee-deep in a box of tangled string lights and mislabeled donation bins.
It was from Bear.
I didn’t even have time to check it. I just smiled, slipped the phone back in my back pocket, and kept moving.
Because for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just keeping busy.
I was becoming something.
And tonight?
I had a date with a man who saw me before I did.