Page 5 of Holiday Power Play

He shrugs and moves to the cabin of his truck.

“You can’t take my car. Ineedmy car.” I reach for the door handle and try to tug at it to try to open it. I remember reading somewhere that it’s illegal to tow a car if there’s somebody in it.

But it’s locked. I wonder if the same rules apply if I’m sittingonit.

I jump onto the hood and sit on it, my legs crisscrossed like I’m about to practice some yoga.

The driver looks at me. “Ma’am, the car’s already loaded. You want me to unload it? There’s a fee.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not paying you to unload it. I didn’t ask for it to be loaded in the first place!”

I watch the door to my neighbor’s house swing open. He’s no longer in jeans, boots and a leather jacket. Now he’s in cozy greysweats and–fuck me–completely shirtless. The deep cut of the v of his abs is visible for all to see.

“Hey,” he waves to the tow truck operator. “You must be John. Is there a problem here?” His eyes flick over to me.

“Is there a problem here?” I mimic him. “Of course there’s a fucking problem here–you!”

John looks up at him and then does a double take when he sees who it is.

“Oh wow!” he laughs to himself. “I know you! You’re Trevor Sincaid!” The man’s bored face morphs into an excited expression much akin to a child on Christmas morning.

He can’t be serious right now? Does everyone love this jackass?

Trevor walks up to the front of my car and stuffs his hands into his pocket. “Yep, that’s me.”

“Unload my car at once!” I say to the driver, ignoring the obnoxious player, and waving a menacing finger.

Trevor looks at me with an amused smirk. “Don’t think that’s going to do much. Money talks, Ms. MacDonald.” Then he turns to the tow truck operator. “Isn’t that right, John?”

John, much to his surprise, seems to be elated that the professional hockey player remembered his name. “Tell you what, I’ll waive the fee if you’re willing to give me an autograph. My son’s a big fan.”

Trevor’s lips purse in consideration. “Hmm… I don’t know. How would my illegally parked neighbor learn her lesson?”

“Learn my lesson?” I yell at him from the hood of my car. “I lived here long before you ever did, you epic dickhead.”

Both men look at each other and shrug.

God, I can’t stand the male species. They do these ridiculous things to piss us off and then wonder why we’re so mad at them like we’re the crazy ones.Theymake us crazy. By doing shit like this.

“Maybe if she promises to keep her can of sardines out of my parking spot… I’ll consider rescuing her,” Trevor decides.

He has this look in his eye. A dare. One that says,what are you going to do now?

“I don’t need to be rescued. Especially not by a ridiculous, self-entitled, nepo baby.” I stay seated on my hood.

John shrugs. “Well then, I’m going to need you to get off the vehicle ma’am. I’d really like to just get home to my wife and kids if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, don’t do that, John. Don’t make it seem like I’m the bad guy here. It was your hockey hero that called you out here in the first place. If you want to put the blame on anyone–blame him.”

Trevor cocks his head at me. “I wouldn’t have had to call John, and keep him from his sweet family, if you would’ve just moved your car like I asked. Very nicely, might I add.”

“You call pounding on my door at eight ‘o clock at night asking nicely? You need your head checked.”

“Ma’am, if you don’t get off the hood of this vehicle–”

“Myvehicle,” I stress. “It’smyvehicle, so I’ll sit on the hood whenever I damn well please. And I’ll park here whenvever I please, because it’s my parking spot. So no. I’m not moving.”

John gives Trevor a look. They’re communicating telepathically and I don’t appreciate it.

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