Page 6 of Stocking Stuffers
“Oh, uh. No, I better not.” Sasha glanced at Perry. It was tempting, but she didn’t think she could survive the Christmas extravaganza going on at this place for longer than a few more minutes. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Of course,” Valerie said. “Thanks again for coming. I think I’ve officially hosted the best Staunchly Raunchy Book Club Christmas Party ever.”
“Yeah, those toys will make awesome stocking stuffers,” Perry said.
“That’s what I said!” Sasha exclaimed. “Batteries not included, though.” Perry tipped his head back and laughed, his whole face transforming, opening up with humor and happiness. And oh man, she loved a good laugh. She had to wrench her gaze away from him before she was caught staring. “I’m going to brave the weather and head out.”
Valerie, amazingly, gave her a hug before she hurried away to see the other guests off. An unusual emotion lumped in Sasha’s throat at the two seconds of friendly contact. She wasn’t much of a hugger. Her grandma had been the bearer of hugs in the family, and maybe she and her siblings had been working at a deficit, because a platonic hug from a stranger at Christmas shouldn’t have made her want to bawl.
Perry’s voice brought her out of her navel gazing. “It’s bad out there. You sure you’ll be okay?” He was watching her closely. Now she could see that he had hazel eyes, an intriguing mix of green and brown. The lights from the Christmas tree reflected in them like stars.
“I’ll be fine.”
“All right. I’ll walk you out.”
She donned her coat and trudged out into the snow, pulling her two roller bags of sex toys—lighter than when she’d first arrived—behind her.
The snow was mixed with pelting ice. The door handle on her VW Bug was so cold it burned her hand when she opened it. Perry helped her load the bags.
A solid coating of ice covered the back window, but it wasn’t as thick on the sides and front. She turned the car on and flipped the heater to defrost.
“I don’t have an ice scraper,” she said, embarrassed. She was a strong, capable, independent woman, and it sucked to be caught unprepared. She parked in a parking garage at her apartment and at work, so her car wasn’t sitting out in the elements very often.
“I think I have two. Hold on.” He rushed over to a hulking silver SUV and pulled one long-handled and one smaller scraper out of the backseat. He handed her the bigger one, then without a word, started in on the back window.
She attacked the ice on the front window with a vengeance, taking out her frustration, sexual and otherwise. She was seriously regretting the red velvet dress, thigh-high fishnets, and black stilettos. This was the worst winter-weather outfit ever, and her coat wasn’t doing much to cut the cold.
They finished quickly, which was great, since Sasha was freezing her snowballs off.
Perry took a step closer to her. He had snow frosting his dark curls and beard.
“I don’t feel good about this. The weather is atrocious,” he said.
“I’ll be fine,” she repeated, glancing up the huge hill she’d have to drive to make it out of the Winterberry Inn’s driveway. It was an ice rink. If ice rinks had a twelve percent grade. This was a horrible idea.
“I’m going to text you, so you have my number. Will you call if you have any issues getting home?” Perry asked.
“Sure. It was nice to meet you, Perry. I hope you text me sometime but, you know, not just because of a little winter weather.”
“Oh, I plan to.” He swooped in and kissed her briefly on the cheek, barely a touch. But his lips were warm against her chilled skin, and it sent a shimmery arc of heat through her. She shivered, and he must have misinterpreted it, because he opened her driver’s side door, and said, “Get in before you catch a chill.”
Catch a chill?She was mouthing those words to herself, a small smile flirting on the edges of her mouth, as she put the car into gear. What an old-fashioned phrase. Perry waved at her, and her smile grew. She started the steep climb up the driveway.
Maybe Perry was really into those historical romances her sister enjoyed—the ones with dukes and scandals and carriage rides. She could almost see him as a brooding Regency hero, except his smile was too unrestrained.
Next she imagined him shirtless and in a clench with a woman in a beautiful fancy dress, because why not? It was such a pleasant fantasy that the first skid of her baby’s tires came as a total surprise.
Adrenaline exploded in her gut like a pipe bomb.
She was suddenly too hot, and the sticky, bitter taste of fear burst on her tongue.
What if her car’s traction wasn’t good enough to get up the hill? Her engine was a dinosaur. She was a month late on changing the oil because she was obviously irresponsible.
Then her Bug shuddered, the tires stopped spinning, and the car slipped backward.
Chapter Two
Perry watched as Sasha’s clunker chugged up the driveway. He was concerned her car wouldn’t make it up the hill. As kids, he and Valerie had raced skateboards down that slope, seeing how fast they could go, the wind whipping against their faces until it was like they were flying. Surely, old ass Volkswagen Bugs were not built to climb icy, Midwestern hills.
