Page 9 of A Gift for her Festive Firefighter

“You do not mess with a lady’s coffee before ten in the morning.”

If you acted like a lady…

A tiny voice uttered in her head, causing her to snarl as she slapped a stained baseball cap over her filthy ponytail. She hadn't even taken a shower yet. No, her routine was all messed up because of today’s catastrophe.

Every morning, it was the same thing. Hit snooze three-to-five times, start the coffee, hop in the shower, consume said coffee while another was brewing, then don a T-shirt, coveralls, and head into the shop to work on whatever was left over until the first customer arrived.

Sliding into Butter’s front seat, she hesitated. She was barely even dressed. She was still wearing her sports bra and panties that she slept in – and only slipped on her greasy coveralls from yesterday because that was the first thing she saw on her way down to deposit the Keurig in the dumpster.

She started up the car and flung it into gear – driving at a near frantic pace down the silent town’s streets making a beeline for the Cozy Cup. Coffee, coffee, coffee, she thought wildly focused. She’d get coffee with extra espresso shots just to get it somewhat close to her normal sludge-like brew.

And heard a honk.

A second passed before something slammed into the driver-side front fender of her car. Holly sat there, clutching the steering wheel, and pretty sure she knew what it felt like to commit murder in the moment that Butter sputtered and died.

Her car died on her.

“Butter?” she whispered, turning the key. “Butter-baby… talk to Mama…”

“Are you freakin’ insane?!” a voice yelped angrily from nearby. “You blew through that stop sign...”

Holly felt something ugly click in her brain as her head and neck gave an involuntary spasm like something in a zombie flick. The images, scenes, and thoughts flashing through her head, combined with the sound of her beloved car’s painful gasp, was doing something to her psyche. Her baby Butter that she had rebuilt from scratch since she was fifteen, mixed with the death of her Keurig, a significant and growing lack of caffeine, and a slew of other things – well, that terrifying ugliness reared its head when the other ‘being’ decided to be aggressive enough to open her door.

“Hey! You hear me? What gives…”

“YOU BETTER BACK THE LETTER ‘F’ UP, MISTER…” Holly roared, vaulting out of her car like a demon possessed. “I don’t cuss, but you are testing the last straw on this camel’s back, now back up before I start spitting!”

“You need to check yourself, woman – and I use the term loosely,” the man snarled, not backing down in the shadows as the sun was just starting to color the horizon a faint purplish-blue. “The speed limit is twenty-five, and you popped through a stop sign like it was a suggestion…”

“Like I suggest you check your next words wisely…”

“The police are on the way,” the shadow said bluntly.

“Good – they need an ambulance… and a body bag!”

“The heck you say?”

“You heard me, Mr. Magoo. You are the one who blew through the stop sign and…”

“Magoo? What are you, a thousand years old? Is that why you are driving that ‘sled’ through town like it’s got no brakes?”

“Sled? Sled? Did you call my baby a sled? Like she was a heap of junk? I’ll have you to know that Butter was a fine piece of machinery – until you killed her. And you understood the reference – so you tell me!”

“Look, obviously, we are going to agree to disagree…”

“Yep – you are whacked out of your head, blind as a bat, and mowed me down with that beater you call a truck…”

“Now, hold up, Creature-Feature…”

“WHAT’D YOU CALL ME?” Holly surged toward the other man, intent on throttling him. She shoved him hard, saw him stumble as he hopped back up, intent on continuing this argument and paused, cocking his head to the side, almost mimicking her own shocked stance.

They were both standing in the single lamp post near the center of town, in the light, looking at each other with something akin to horror. The man standing before her, who she had shoved into the street, was none other than Captain Cade Pruitt from the fire department. The hottest man she had ever met in her life has slammed into Butter and called her ‘Creature-Feature’?

“Look, Creature-Feature,” he snapped hotly as the red and blue lights in the distance suddenly appeared, growing closer. “I don’t know what you think or where you get off, but I suggest you get out your insurance and do not lay another hand on me, or I’m filing for assault, too.”

“You pronounced it wrong,” she snapped. “‘You’re AT FAULT’ – not assault.”

“I’m not at fault – you hit me.”

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