Page 2 of Christmas of Convenience

Bags shuffle and something loud clanks against the phone. “Sorry, packing in a hurry. I should probably let you go. I’ll text you when I land. Please, please, please, leave your location on… just in case this guy is crazy. Oh, and write down his name and everything you know about him, then send it to me. I need something to give the cops.”

“Is this on the pamphlet as well?”

She laughs and another loud bang ensues. “Yeah, so is meeting in a public place, not taking rides from him, and video chatting before you meet in person, but I suppose we’re past all that by now.”

I’m not sure we are because I’m not sure he’s even coming. “Love you, girl. Safe travels. I’ll text you everything.”

“Love you, too. See you soon!” The line disconnects and I go typing out the message with all the personal information I know about Sam, which isn’t much. His parents left the Christmas tree farm to him and his four brothers. He’s hot as hell, covered in tattoos, and he drives a dark green Silverado. Oh, and I paid him two grand to show up and pretend he’s in love with me.

Pathetic text sent.The news can have a field day with that one. I can see the headlines now. ‘Small-town teacher pays for Christmas nightmare.’

Maybe I should be a writer. That was pretty good.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly as another announcement alerts over the loudspeaker. An older couple wearing matching Christmas sweaters shuffle in through the glass doors as though they’re about to miss their flight. I hope they don’t. They’re so cute! Ugh,cuteand another reminder of how incredibly dumb I am for coming out here. I should’ve just shown up alone like the loser I am and let my family tear me apart like they do. At least I wouldn’t feel like a liar on top of everything else.

I clench my hand around the handle of the suitcase and try not to burst into tears, but they’re flowing anyway.

Shit.

I spent hours following a makeup tutorial on YouTube this morning in hopes that I could manage to look halfway decent. Fumbling through my bag, I search for a tissue. Of course, there’s nothing. I really need to prepare better for things like this. A tissue seems like a super relevant thing to keep around, especially considering the number of times I burst into tears lately.

I pull down the sleeve of my sweater and dab under my eyes, carefully flowing the trail of wet streaks toward my chin.

“You okay?” a deep, raspy voice says as it settles beside me.

Oh, dear God.That’s him. The man I’ve been talking to.

My gaze follows his big work boots, up his tight jeans, over his dark inked biceps, and across his broad chest.

Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into? This man is nothing like the man in the pictures on his website. This man is bigger, hotter, and so much freaking cooler than I imagined, and I was imagining a pretty cool dude.

He wears a red, long sleeve flannel rolled loosely at his giant wrists and brushes his hand down over his salt and pepper beard. “Everything okay?”

Oh God, did he ask me the question twice already and I haven’t answered? “Yeah, I’m good.” I straighten the kitten sweater I’m wearing and tug on the Christmas tree earrings I thought sounded like a good idea when I left the house.

What was I thinking? I guess I thought a cute Christmas sweater and tree earrings would be appealing to a guy with a tree farm, but now I feel like a giant dork.

Rejoining my top and bottom lip, I stand from the bench and push a strand of hair from my face, pretending that I’m as normal as they come. “How are you?”

Wow.How are you?Dear God, please help me.

“Good. Sorry I’m a little late. There was extra traffic getting out of town this morning with the eclipse and all. I swear folks are coming from everywhere to see this thing.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I’m here now. You hungry, or do you want to head straight back to Rugged Mountain? We’ve got a couple hours drive from here given the traffic.” He sounds stressed and immediately my stomach starts turning like I’ve made a horrible mistake. I’ve probably ruined this guy’s day. No, I’ve probably ruined his Christmas. Still, though, I can’t stop staring. He’s a literal god. A tall, inked, dark, flannel god, and I can’t look away.

“I guess we’ll stop to eat then,” he says, his voice low as he looks toward me. “You like steak? There’s a good steakhouse around the corner.” He glances down at his watch. “We’ve still got a few hours before the party starts. We should get to know each other, anyway.”

The air is cold, but I think I might be sweating. “Yeah, steak sounds good.” I grab my suitcase and roll it forward toward the truck that’s waiting a few feet away.

Sam takes it into his hands, pushes down the lever, and lifts it up into the back seat before turning back for me. His giant hand stretches out toward mine, and I quickly realize this is going to be a problem. I can’t think straight around him. Hell, I can barely breathe. He’s like the guys I’ve read about in books. Hard working, calloused hands, gritty voice, and an edge that I can’t describe. Whatever it is, it’s way too cool for me, and I have a feeling I’m about to make a complete ass of myself.

Chapter Two

Sam

What the fuck did I get myself into?

When this was some random stranger online, the whole thing seemed harmless, maybe even a little fun. A weekend with a pretty girl, and I’d get paid enough to buy two new generators for the cabin.

Merry Christmas to me.

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