Page 8 of Stuck With My Christmas Crush

“Well, if you’re driving any distance, it’s a good idea to be prepared for all kinds of emergency.”

“Thanks. Well, I did have roadside emergency cover, but that has clearly let me down.” I follow the hot guy into a tiny living room which is warm and cozy, so I forgive him for lecturing me. “So, if I can please charge up my phone I’ll call my friend, and she can come and get me. She’s only an hour away. Maybe a bit more, but…”

“Sure.” The hot guy takes my phone and wipes it on his sleeve. “But it looks a bit wet. You might need to dry it out before plugging it into the mains.”

I feel myself physically sag as he says this. My energy saps away by the second.

“You’re right.” I take the phone back and wipe it on my sodden jacket. It’s a futile act. The phone gets wetter.

“I’m Jason by the way,” says the hot guy holding out a hand for me to shake. “I’ll get you a towel. You should get out of those wet things. Hyperthermia is real and dangerous in these circumstances.”

“Oh yes. Right,” I say taking off my jacket which drips on the floor. Jason disappears through a door on the other side of the room by the fireplace.

Rocko is curled up on a wingback chair. He’s off-duty and snoozing. I take in the furnishings of the tiny space which doesn’t look as if it has been decorated for a hundred years. The wood stove is set beneath a carved wooden surround. Everything in the room is old. I feel like I’m in a museum or a living exhibit which gives a visitor an authentic taste of yesteryear. Jason comes back holding out a towel for me.

I take it gratefully and rub the towel over my head and dry my face, but suddenly I remember my fairy make-up of mostly pink glitter, which transfers to the snowy-white towel.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jason rolls his eyes then says, “I’m going to get you a hot drink. Sweet coffee.”

“No sugar thanks.” I wrap the towel around my shivering shoulders.

“Not sugar. Honey. It’ll give you an energy burst without spiking your insulin.” He begins to walk to the other door in the room but stops mid-stride. “I’ll wring this out over the kitchen sink,” he says taking my soggy faux fur with a derisive smirk. “I can’t imagine a more impractical jacket in this weather.”

As Jason turns to leave, I forgive yet another lecture and I listen as he fills the kettle.

“Well, Jason. I didn’t think I was going to be hiking in a snowstorm when I left my house this morning,” I shout after him.

“You need a decent jacket. Waterproof. Padded. Something you can sleep out in, if necessary,” Jason says as he comes back into the lounge, shaking my substandard fake fur and arranging it on the arm of Rocko’s chair beside the fire.

“Thanks,” I say looking around, trying to formulate a plan. I’m still chilled but warming up a little.

“Alright. Here’s what I think we should do,” says Jason with a serious expression, combing his fingers through his dark wavy hair - an action so captivating, it takes my mind off my horrendous predicament. “First, we should see if we can get your car started. I have jumper cables, so that might be all that’s needed. But before we go out there again, you need to put on some dry clothes.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I say, my voice juddering with shivers. “And I don’t have anything dry.”

“I do. What I suggest is you take a hot shower to warm up. I’ll sort out something for you to wear. Then, by that time, your phone should be dry enough to plug in and it’ll be charging while we’re getting your car sorted out. How does that sound?”

“Are you Jason Bates? Is this the Bates Hotel? I’ve seen Psycho and I know what happens to the lady in the shower.”

Chapter 5

Jason

Charlie perches on my couch and looks around the room, taking in the wallpaper, pictures, and framed photos. Her eyes come to rest on Rocko who is snoring peacefully on the chair in front of the wood stove. I get the feeling she is weighing up my suggestion of a shower and change of clothes.

“If this was a horror movie, something dreadful is going to happen next,” she says followed by a nervous laugh.

“Are you kidding?”

“Jason. I’m going to ask you straight out. Are you an ax murderer?”

“Mmmm. I see your point. What if I tell you that nothing bad is going to happen? I’m just trying to help.” Charlie shivers. She sips the hot coffee but doesn’t move at all. Her eyes dart to the door. She’s thinking about an exit plan, I’ll bet. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call my sister, Meredith, and she’ll tell you I’m a good guy, okay?”

Charlie nods, pulls the towel tighter around her shoulders, and sips more coffee. I dial Meredith’s number. The phone rings a couple of times before she picks up.

“Hey, Meredith. I have a guest here who needs you to give me a character reference. Alright?”

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