Page 28 of Christmas Charms
Three sharp knocks on my driver’s side window force my eyes open, and sure enough, the chiseled face I see peering down at me belongs to Aidan Flynn. Snow tips his eyelashes, and even his bulky firefighter helmet can’t hide the square set of his jaw and his perfectly defined cheekbones. Still, I’m both mortified and disappointed to see him. The sudden pounding of my heart is just a result of my recent near-death experience. Obviously.
I feel a little breathless, but I know I must be taking in oxygen because the window goes foggy as I sit there, staring at him. When I wipe it clean with my mitten, I have a very clear view of Aidan’s judgmental frown. Honestly, is he theonlyfirefighter in the OLFD? Where’s Uncle Hugh when I really need him?
I sigh, and since I’ve made no move to open the car door, Aidan does it for me.
“Going somewhere?” He arches a brow.
“Apparently not.” I scramble out of the car so I can stand eye-to-eye with him, but it’s no use. He towers over me. Plus all his firefighter gear makes him seem huge—quite literally larger than life.
“Are you okay?” He looks me up and down, and despite the fact that I have to blink against the snow, my face goes hot. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Nope. Just my pride.
I lift my chin. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” he says flatly. Why do I get the feeling he’d be far happier if I’d twisted an ankle or something, preventing me from limping out of town until after Christmas? “Because getting back to the city isn’t worth risking your life in a snowstorm.”
“For your information, I wasn’t ‘risking my life.’” I attempt to make sarcastic little air quotes, but since I’m wearing mittens, the gesture is impossible to pull off with any sort of flair. I look like I’m giving him a cutesy, double-fisted wave.
He accidentally smiles before rearranging his features back into frown. “You slid right off of the road.”
“Just a little bit,” I counter.
His ice-blue gaze flits to the front end of my rental car, currently buried beneath a pile of white, and then back at me. “Would it kill you to stay put for a few days? Couldn’t you see how happy your mom was last night at the station? Your Uncle Hugh, too. Everyone in town is ecstatic that you’re back.”
Everyone?
I don’t dare ask, mainly because I’m afraid of what his answer might be.
“I wasn’t going back to Manhattan for good.” I wish I didn’t have to keep saying this, but even more so, I wished everyone believed me when I did. I’m not quite sure they do, probably because I haven’t been home for Christmas in years. I haven’t spent much time in Owl Lake at all since I moved away.
My gaze drops to the snowy ground. Suddenly, I can’t seem to look Aidan in the eye anymore. I blink against the wind and my teeth start to chatter.
Aidan clears his throat. “Once the snow lets up, I can come back and tow your car out of there. Meanwhile, will you let me take you home?”
He’s asking my permission, like a gentleman. He could have simply ordered me to get in the firetruck since this is technically a rescue mission, and as a bona fide hero, he’s probably honor-bound not to leave me stranded here in the snow. But he didn’t, because Aidan isn’t like that.
“Yes, please,” I say. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that he’s the one who turned up to help me. “But I suppose this means I owe you more cookies.”
His laughter warms the chill out of my bones. “Not necessary. We’re good, Ash.”
I hope we are, I think. I truly do.
The inside of the firetruck is toasty warm, and I sink into the leather passenger seat while Aidan closes me in and stomps through the snow toward the driver’s side. We’re in the OLFD small rescue vehicle this time, not the ladder truck. It’s more like a glorified SUV than an actual fire engine, which explains why Aidan is operating it without a crew.
“How did you know I’d gotten stuck out here?” I ask once he’s sliding in place behind the steering wheel.
He removes his helmet and sets it on the console between us. “A trucker saw you drift into the snowbank and called 911.”
“I’m surprised you’re still on duty. Isn’t it usually twenty-four hours on, forty-eight hours off?” A fire chief’s daughter knows these things.
Aidan shrugs. “One of the guys is down with the flu, so I volunteered for some overtime.”
“Ah.” I nod as he steers the truck off of the snowy shoulder and onto the road, deftly avoiding the dark icy patch that caused me to go into a slide.
On the way back, the ride is brief. Within minutes, we’re turning onto Main Street. The Palace Theatre’s marquee glitters gold in the midst of the storm. Classic movie night is only four days away, and a very real part of me is tempted to ask Aidan if he might want to go. Just for old times’ sake, of course.
But the other part of me—the rational, sensible part—knows this would be a mistake. I still have every intention of getting back to Manhattan after this holiday visit is over. I’m scheduled to be back at work two days after Christmas. Since that means I only have a limited amount of time to spend with my parents, I definitely don’t need to be filling up my schedule with social outings, no matter how badly I find that I want to. Besides, he could have a girlfriend for all I know. Classic movie night could betheirthing now. The thought makes my heart clench, even though I know I have no right whatsoever to be jealous.
