Page 45 of Just for the Holidays

Teddy slowly turns, watching his own reflection and catching the platinum boy arching a sculpted dark-brown brow at Teddy’s passing behind.Sold!

Harlow’s eyes rise, gleaming when Teddy makes the full turn. He flags a long finger, adorned with an electric-blue painted nail and says, “One sec!”

He returns seconds later with his arms behind his back. “Trust me?” He smirks, waiting for Teddy to agree.

Teddy nods, reluctantly.

Harlow presents a vest, covered in shimmering blue sequins, with a black silk back. His pupils dilate as he flashes a wide toothy grin.

Teddy stares at the gaudy eyesore he’d never consider—on his own, but shrugs and takes it from Harlow’s hands. He slips his arms in and tugs it around his belly, fastening its two buttons.

“Magical.” Harlow cheers, soft-clapping his hands, excitedly.

Teddy studies himself in the three-way mirrors, silently. Then meeting his own gaze and dreamily imagining Nichol’s surprised reaction. “You know what… Let’s ring it all up.”

Harlow glances down at Teddy’s worn work boots with wet patches. “Do we have shoes to wear?”

“Wedo not,” Teddy responds with a chuckle.

“Get changed.” Harlow swings the door shut again.

Teddy does as commanded and then trails the quick-strutting twink—huffing to keep up—into the shoe department, with the white shirt, flashy vest, and gray pants draped over his forearm.

Harlow goes directly for a pair of black leather fashion sneakers with white soles. “What size?” he asks, dangling the sample off his fingers.

“Twelve.”

“Mmm.” Harlow hums, slowly scanning Teddy from head to toe.

He disappears into a back room and emerges again, holding a shoebox. “Try them on?”

“I’ll take them.” Teddy wants to get home before the roads are worse.

Harlow ducks behind the nearest cash register and scans the items in. “He’s going to be gaga over you,” he winks.

Teddy’s cheeks flush and his mouth curls up.

Harlow smiles, pleased by the verification of his own prediction. “Two hundred and thirty five, sixty-seven.”

Ouch! Teddy hands over his credit card, with trepidation, and collects the sleek glossy paper bag with black-silk ribbon handles. He thanks Harlow for his help, before trodding back out to the little truck, now covered in a thick layer of sticky snow.

The barrage of falling flakes hasn't let up one bit and the roads are invisible under the piling sheet with only tire tracks from previous travelers to guide the way.

Teddy slowly creeps up the road, white-knuckling the journey home, keeping the radio volume turned low so he can hear over the crunching cast of freezing snow under the truck’s tires, and his own thoughts. With most of his focus on the treacherous roads, he makes mental notes of the tasks he’ll finish tonight and tomorrow.Finish baking the pies and a batch of doughnuts, if there’s time.

He’s excited to join the Anderson’s holiday celebration. Even if it’s just from the friend zone.Brett Hinkly and Nichol really would make a stunning couple.Maybe Teddy should just stick to focusing on the business and forget about romance altogether.

This storm is out of hand.

He shouldn’t have put-off replacing the all-weather tires, with the truck’s studded winter options, this late in the season.

Reflective mile-markers appear in the blizzard's chaotic void, tracking the little Ranger’s progress, and letting him know there’s just two miles left to go. The last traveler’s tracks are nearly whited-out by wind driven flakes, so large their intricate patterns are visible to the naked eye.

Windshield wipers squeal at thenext exit 1 more mile, sign blipping into focus. He eases his stiff leg off the gas pedal, letting the truck slow naturally, and gently turns the steering wheel.

The rear of the truck skids around, and he reacts, whipping the wheel in a frenzy, to try and counter the vehicle’s spin, aiming the cab back toward the direction he’s just come from, as the bed takes the lead and the truck gathers speed, sliding sideways and flipping around, so he’s facing forward again, on the incline of the exit. The guardrail quickly approaches, in the headlight beams, slicing through the dark.

His heart races and his head dizzies as the truck twirls three more rotations, before slamming against the steel rails bracketing the road. His forehead bounces off the glass window and he’s thrown back into the center of the cab but caught by the seat belt and catapulted forward against the steering wheel, knocking the air from his chest.

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