Page 43 of All I Want For Christmas

“I wouldn’t have believed anything else.” He turned back to the motel owner. “Okay, we’ll take the good room. How much will that be, sir?”

“Oh, I don’t take credit cards,” the manager said, when he saw Christian pulling one out of his wallet. “But don’t worry about it, I’m not going to charge folks who are stranded on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s no trouble,” Christian insisted, pulling several twenties out of his wallet. “We’re just grateful you can put us up.”

“Put your money away.” He waved his hand and looked offended. “I’m not having none of that.”

“Well, thank you,” Christian said. “We appreciate it. I’m Christian, by the way, and this is Blue.”

“What did you say?” He scrunched his eyes up at Blue. “Did he say your name is Blue?”

“Yes.” She shrugged. “My mom was trying to be unique.”

“Huh. I knew a fella named Red once, but that was his nickname. Never met anyone named after a Crayola crayon before. But my grandson’s name is Rock so I guess if you can be named for something no one ever wants to be as dumb as, I guess you might as well name someone after a color in the rainbow. Not sure what happened to Sarah and William though.”

“My sister’s name is Sarah,” Blue told him, rocking on her heels, amused by his assessment of the randomness of name choices. “I think my father saw the error of his ways.”

He nodded. “I can see that.” Then he winked behind his thick glasses. “Though I reckon you’re the prettier one anyway. I’m Roy, by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Roy.”

“Is there any chance I can borrow your phone, Roy? I just want to call my friend and let her know what happened to me.”

“Sure, sure, no problem.” He pushed the phone over to her.

Blue dialed Emily, grateful she even remembered Emily’s number, and left her a voicemail explaining the situation when she didn’t pick up her phone. She handed the phone to Christian, who called his parents. Curious, she half-listened to his conversation, noting that he was both respectful and comfortable in tone.

“Where were you headed?” Roy asked Blue.

“Florida. I was supposed to be going on a cruise.”

“Oh, boy. Mother Nature can be a bitch, can’t she?”

That made Blue nod grimly. “Yes, she can be, Roy.”

As Christian hung up the phone, Roy got them a key and handed it to him. “If you all are up and hungry in the morning, come on over to the office here and have some breakfast with me. Doesn’t look like my grandkids will be able to collect me until the afternoon with the weather like this, and I’d enjoy the company.”

“We’d love to,” Blue said, knowing instinctively that Christian would be on board with that. A glance over at him showed he was nodding in agreement.

Which was something most men Blue had dated would not have been happy about.

That odd little unsettling feeling hit her again.

“Have a good night, Roy. Stay warm.”

Christian gave him a wave and they headed out to the car. Blue leaned in the backseat and gathered up her purse and the bags from the gas station. She was about to go to the trunk to get her suitcase when she saw Christian already had both her bag and his and was opening the door to Room 1.

“Ladies first,” he told her with a smile, the goofy Christmas tree on his head bouncing.

She swallowed, trying to recover her earlier crankiness. Pissed off was a better place to be than unsure of herself. That was a feeling she couldn’t stand and with Christian, shedefinitely felt off-balance. He was a breed of male she didn’t understand. The good guy who got married and bought a suburban house and mowed his lawn. It was freaking her out how much she was attracted to him.

She’d always assumed she wasn’t meant to be with a man like that. Hence the emotionally unavailable boyfriends in her past.

Slipping into the room, she dumped the plastic bags on the tiny table and tried to ignore the fact that it smelled like old socks. “At least it’s warm.”

“And snow free.” Christian put their suitcases against one wall and peeled off his coat. “So your sister’s name is Sarah? How did that happen?”

“My father recently married a girl twenty-four years younger than him—exactly half his age, not that I’m doing the math—and they just had a baby they named Sarah Jane. I guess the nearly three decades since my birth mellowed him into a traditionalist.” She grinned. “After all, having a midlife crisis and marrying a pretty young thing is fairly traditional for men.”

---