Page 5 of Just for the Holidays

The toaster oven dings.

Teddy collects the golden rings, slathering the bagel halves with generous layers of cream cheese, and sandwiches each into folded wax paper. “I’ll be back. I’m going over to the pantry and dropping Nichol off.”

Loren snarls and grunts in recognition.

“Let’s go,” Teddy whispers, handing Nichol his crinkly hot bundle, scooping up his mug of coffee with the bag of day-old bounty tucked under an arm, and traipses toward the door.

Nichol follows, past the jingling bell, out the door, and into the alley between the little bakery andEye See You Optometry.

Chapter 4

Teddy

You steer, I’ll push

”We should move your car off the street.” Teddy plops his mug on the dash of the rusty Ford Ranger, scooping up the rogue splatter escaping the rim with his finger, and tosses the bag of bagels onto a pile of boxed-up pastries in the extended cab.

Nichol drops his foot back into the icy puddle. Frigid water seeps through tight Italian-crafted seams and bites his toes as heback steps away from the old truck, “The battery is dead. It won’t budge.”

“We can push it. C’mon.” Teddy jerks an arm in the air and slams the creaking door, echoing down empty Main Street.

Nichol huffs, but follows behind him.

Teddy’s boots tromp through the salty slush while Nichol’s fancy loafers slip and skid along the slick tar, arms flailing to steady his teetering flounce.

“You steer and I’ll push.” Teddy directs, placing both palms on the back fin of the car, dropping into position behind the trunk.

Nichol falls into the driver’s seat and closes the door.

”Ready?” Teddy shakes his head and smirks.

“What do I do?” Nichol’s wide-eyed stare reflects in the rearview mirror, meeting Teddy’s gaze.

“Can you shift into neutral?”

“I don’t think this thing shifts?” He searches the dash and console for answers that aren’t there.

Teddy has no experience with fancy electric cars, he’s barely learned how to change the oil in his own block of rusted steel.

“Hmm? Come help me, maybe we can just slide it over on the slush?” he chuckles.

“I’ll just call the rental company to come collect it in the morning.” Nichol shrugs.

“We’ve still got to get it off to the side of the street, at least. People and plow trucks will be driving through soon.”

Nichol huffs again, but rolling out of the car with a can’t-be-bothered moan, he skates around the back and huddles at Teddy’s side.

“Okay,” Nichol bites his lip.

Teddy grunts, red-faced, while Nichol feigns minimal effort, but the car shifts slowly, on the thin glaze of ice forming underthe wheels, until Nichol’s loafers slip and he drops to his knees in the slush.

“Dammit.”

Teddy tries to catch him by the arm but nearly topples over too, bracing himself against the bumper.

“You okay?” Teddy giggles.

“I’m fine.” Nichol grimaces, struggling back to his feet with soaked knees and slush-caked designer shoes. “Is this good enough?’’ he brushes the gravel-gray snow off his legs.

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