Page 8 of Christmas of Convenience

I should go back and check the texts from my sister or call her and see what the heck is going on, but I can’t stomach her right now. For a brief second, I’m happy in a little fantasy bubble where a big, hot, rugged man is touching my leg and I’m not going to let her ruin it.

No, I’ve given her that opportunity too many times in my life. Right now, this moment,sponsored by the last of my savings, is all for me. I power down my phone and stare out into the white abyss. There’s no way in hell this storm is clearing in time for the eclipse. I feel bad for the people that came all this way for complete totality. Then again, maybe someone should’ve warned them that winter in the mountains would most likely bring clouds.

The truck door opens, and Sam knocks the snow off his boots on the edge of the door before climbing in. “Well, they’re getting snowed out too.” He pops open his glove box and pulls out a stack of chocolate cookies with cream in the middle. “Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while. For the record, we’d have been stuck on the highway too. No way they didn’t stop traffic around the bend into town. They do it every storm. Too many people go off the road there.”

I grab a cookie from the bag and take a bite, watching as his giant hand devours the treat. I’m not sure I’m hungry enough to eat yet, but I like this quiet little moment in the woods with a goliath, so I do as goliaths do, and I eat my cookie.

“You’re just biting into it. You’re supposed to lick out the cream first.” I smile and lick the edges of the cream as I talk.

“Are you not worried about the party or the eclipse?” He takes another bite. “And for the record, I’m all for licking the cream, but sometimes, you just got to devour something, ya know?” He pops the rest in his mouth, holding his gaze on mine.

What did he just say?My entire body shivers and my panties soak with desperation. “I’m not bummed about the partyor the eclipse. We’ll get there when we get there.” I’m entirely happy right here licking the cream out of a cookie with Sam sitting next to me.

“I was most worried about a buddy of mine. Haven’t seen him in years and he was supposed to come out to the farm for a pseudo welcome home party.”

“Where has he been?”

“All over the Middle East. Career military. Folks around town are so excited he’s home. Pretty soon the town will have that hometown heroes’ parade and he’ll be a star for a while. I gotta say, small town life is nice for shit like that. If he were going home to Chicago or New York, he wouldn’t get the same reception. Here, he gets head table at the Christmas Eve party, a parade, and free haircuts for life down at the barber shop on Main.”

“And he’s back in time to see the eclipse. Well, to see the sky go dark, anyway.”

Sam smiles and reaches into a small cooler behind the passenger seat. “Water?”

“Sure.”

He loosens the top and hands the cold, wet bottle toward me before taking a sip of his own.

“You always travel with a bunch of snacks?”

“Every day. I do a lot of planting and trimming trees, so I’m usually way out there. This is easier than driving all the way back to the house when I want a snack, and,” he rolls his hand over his hard stomach, “a guy my size needs snacks for survival.”

“Yeah?” My cheeks heat, and though his comment was simple and innocent, it sends a vibration between my legs that I need to attend to.

God, what’s wrong with me?

“I take it you don’t travel with snacks?”

“No,” I smile wide as the snow flurries around us, “but I think I might start. I always wanted to be one of those people that carries candy around with them.”

“Like butterscotch?”

“Yeah, or those little strawberry candies. I think I have a loose fantasy about having grandkids that beg me for pocket candy.”

“Wow,” he says with a grin. “Straight to grandkids. You’re a little young for thoughts like that, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be fantasizing about a family of your own first?”

“I do, but I’m really looking forward to my late life era.”

“Not much to look forward to.” He laughs and readjusts the heating vents as though he’s nervous. “The older you get, the worse off everything is. Your back hurts, your knees hurt, and your tired at eight p.m.”

“Not true! You have all this wisdom when you’re older. You see life more clearly for what it is. You’re respected, and you get to make cookies and pies, and everyone has to tell you how good they are, even if they’re horrid.”

“Are your pies and cookies usually horrid?”

“Yes!” I laugh. “They are. I’m horrible in the kitchen. What about you?”

He brushes his hand down over his beard. “Kind of terrible too, actually. I order from the diner most nights.”

“We can learn together.” The words come out of my mouth with a smile as though we’re an actual couple and we have a future to plan. Except this isn’t real, and we don’t. The second that permeates, embarrassment settles in.

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