Page 8 of A Merry Misfit Christmas

Shit.

I ditch the idea of using the hand sanitizer and go for my phone instead. My glove wraps around the smooth surface as I lift my hand free, realizing too late that my cold fingers aren’t gripping it tight enough. The device slips out of my grasp and arcs on a current of icy wind. I watch in horror as my cell lands in the snow, sliding downhill away from me as it picks up speed.

The phone glides to an eventful stop, smashing into a parking spot's concrete slab. I hear it crack before it shatters, and I wince.

This is officially the worst day of my entire life.

In case things can’t get any worse, fate decides to fuck with me. The engine of the SUV revs, and the vehicle turns in my direction, slowly moving into the empty parking spot. Frightened, I back into my car, watching as the SUV’s slick black body begins to rock. In a few moments, it’ll have enough momentum to rise over the block and head up the hill. . . towardme.

I do the only thing I can. I scream. The sound launches from my throat with an equal mix of terror and frustration, belting from my lungs with a desperation that makes my knees quake.

And then, in the distance, I hear the rumble of a motorcycle’s engine. My heart thrums louder, almost slamming into my ribcage as I stare at the street, recognizing the big man riding toward me, his massive shoulders covered in steam. The snow and sleet melt off him as fast as they land, almost like he’s as hot as the sun.

The SUV backs up, turns, and speeds away seconds before the biker pulls to a stop. Before I can say a word, he’s kicking down the stand, running toward me with all the grace and power of a predator. But I don’t feel threatened. Just the opposite. Something about him feels safe.

“It’s you,” I whisper, at a loss to say more.

The guy from the coffee shop. The clumsy brute who spilled my hot cocoa all over my sweater.

“Kodiak,” he growls as he reaches me. “Are you okay, Callie?”

He knows my name. How?It’s my first thought after I recover from the surprise.

“I can’t get into my car,” I finally reply, blinking as snow falls harder, landing on my eyelashes. “The door is stuck.”

“The ice. I bet it’s frozen over.”

I nod.

He frowns and walks away from me, returning to his bike. I’m almost angry until I notice what he’s doing. Kodiak reaches into his saddlebags and pulls out a blanket. He returns to me with quick, purposeful strides, wrapping the thick fabric around me without a word.

I huddle into the warmth, grateful as I realize he’s pulling a portion of it over my head and keeping some of the snowflakes out of my face. Shivering, I watch as he approaches my car. A quick pull on the handle yields the same result I had. Nothing.

“Gonna try something else.”

Sanitizer? I almost suggest it until I see him turn his back.What’s he doing?

There’s a sickening crunch that sounds like the metal frame of my car groaning in protest. Then I watch in shock as thewhole dooris torn from the hinges, dangling from his hand before he drops it on the snow-covered ground.

Holy shit! He just tore off my door!

Wait. How strong does a person have to be to do something like that? Shit. He’s fixing that, right?

I take a couple of steps backward, biting my lip as Kodiak turns my way.

He shakes his head when he sees my expression. “Fuck. Sorry. Shit.” He sighs. “I’m fucking everything up.”

Silence. I don’t know what to say. It’s ridiculous. The whole damn day has been a comedy of errors from the moment I met him. It’s so awful that I shake my head and giggle. But it doesn’t stop there. Oh, no. That giggle turns into a chuckle. And before I know it, I’m laughing. Nearly hysterical.

It only takes about ten seconds before he joins me. Our combined laughter loosens something in my chest, and I feel lighter. Less stressed. More relaxed.

I don’t dwell on the reason. It doesn’t matter.

Kodiak shrugs. “Well, I’m calling in a tow. In the meantime, let’s get out of this weather.”

“Where?” I ask, already knowing that I’ll go with him. I don’t want to stay here alone.

In the back of my mind is the reminder of the black SUV, but I push it away. That’s a conversation for later.

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