Page 54 of Cross Check Christmas
"Would you rather be stranded in a warm cottage or freezing on the side of the road?"
As if to prove his point, the truck's wheels spin briefly before catching. He throws it in reverse, backing us carefully toward the house.
"This is not happening," I groan, slumping in my seat. Khan meows in agreement from the backseat.
Back in the house, I rummage through Michelle's pantry while Khan supervises from his perch on the counter. "Let's see... canned soup, more canned soup, and—oh look, canned soup!"
"Well, we won't starve," Hendrix calls from the living room, where he's arranging logs in the fireplace. "Found any matches?"
"Top drawer by the fridge." I open another cupboard. “Ooh, hot chocolate!"
"Score!” Hendrix finds the matches and goes through a few before one strikes. “Does she have any marshmallows?"
"No such luck." I check my phone again - still no bars. "Great. No signal."
"Landline?" Hendrix suggests.
I spot the cordless phone on the counter and pick it up. Dead. "Of course not. That would be too easy."
A sharp crack echoes from the fireplace, followed by Hendrix's triumphant "Ha!" Orange light flickers across the walls as the fire catches.
Khan stretches and hops down, padding over to investigate the flames. He settles into a loaf position, clearly at home with the situation.
"At least someone's comfortable." I busy myself with opening soup cans, trying to ignore how domestic this feels. "How long do you think we'll be stuck here?"
Hendrix peers out the window at the white wall of snow. "If we're lucky, it'll clear by morning."
"Morning?" My voice squeaks. I was hoping it would only be a couple of hours. "But we have school tomorrow!"
"Pretty sure school will be canceled after this storm." He joins me in the kitchen, careful to leave space between us. "Look, I know this isn't ideal..."
"That's putting it mildly."
"But we've got shelter, heat, and..." He holds up the soup can. "Gourmet dining. Could be worse."
I can't help but laugh. "I suppose you're right. Though I should warn you—this may be the extent of my cooking skills."
"In that case..." He takes the can from me. "Let me handle dinner. I make a mean…” He checks the label. “Campbell's chicken noodle soup."
As he pours the contents of the can into a pot, I catch myself watching him move with easy confidence through the space.Kind of how he is on the ice—all competent and swift. Not that I’ll ever admit I sometimes catch his games on TV—you know, just while channel surfing.
17
HENDRIX
Hours pass by, and we go through three cans of soup and two cups of hot chocolate each. It's approaching midnight, but neither of us wants to broach the subject of our sleeping arrangement, as the only bedroom in this cottage is upstairs. I'll take the couch, of course, but I'm not about to shoo her away, either. Despite the circumstance that keeps us here, I've never felt more comfortable and at ease in my life. Spending time with Colette is just… natural.
We talked all through our meal about utter nonsense—mostly fandom stuff and music—then she annihilated me in Monopoly, which made her cheeks flush with wicked glee. She laughed maniacally each time my little car landed on one of her hotels. I lost spectacularly. And I'd do it again to see her laugh like that.
I stack our dishes in the sink, stealing glances at Colette as she wraps herself tighter in the blanket by the fire. The wind still howls outside, but the worst of the storm seems to have passed. It’s died down to a gentle snowfall, but the roads are still too dangerous to risk driving back tonight.
Through the window, I can make out the hulking shape of my truck, now buried under what looks like a foot of snow.
"Well, looks like we're stuck here till morning. I'll need to dig the truck out and wait for the plows to scrape the roads before we can head back."
I set my bowl down and stretch. "But I gotta say, this might be the best date I've ever been on.”
She shoots me a look. "This isn't a date."
