Page 7 of A Not So Merry Rescue
“It’s a bit of a construction zone with renovations and not quite ready for occupancy, but you can stay at my house and I’llstay at the rental. It’s one night, two at most. I’ll sacrifice for you, Willa.”
The way he speaks my name has me wanting him to never stop saying it. The last syllable is “la” instead of the “uh” sound most people use.
What the heck is in the air tonight that has me thinking these thoughts?
“That’s . . . generous of you.” Too enthralled with his pronunciation of my name, the rest of his statement penetrates slowly, not fully sticking all at once. “Wait. Did you say I could stay at your house?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry. I won’t be there. You’ll be safe from the likes of all predators. Me included.” He flashes that damned crooked smile, causing my ovaries to wave the white flag.Traitors.
“Just so I understand correctly. You’ll hole up at some random rental you’ve forgotten about, and I’ll stay at your house?” Between the car predicament and Beckett’s hotness, my mind’s all foggy. Hence why I have to confirm.
He exhales, his breath mixing with the hot air blowing from the vents. “I’d say it’s your best option.”
“It’s kinda my only option,” I blurt.
Not that I’m on board or completely comfortable with it yet, but what choice do I have?
None, that’s what.
He claps his hands together, giddiness wafting off him. “Great. Shall I get your car loaded on my truck so we can be on our way to my house?” I go to speak, but he cuts me off. “Where you will stay by yourself. I will grab some clothes and toiletries and be on my way to the rental. By myself,” he adds for good measure. Probably because he sees I’m still freaking out a tad.
“Guess it’s our only plan, so yes. Let’s do that.”
Hope I knowwhat I’m getting into.
While Beckett collects my suitcase and stows it in his truck, I peek at the damage to my car and cringe. The front side panel smooshes against the tree, and the tire is definitely blown.
He doesn’t seem too fazed by the damage, but towing banged up vehicles is his specialty. No doubt he’s seen worse. Completely totaled cars, if I had to guess.
Beckett’s kind enough to start his truck, blasting the heat so I won’t freeze. The irony isn’t lost on me how he’s battling the elements to secure my car on the flatbed but made sure I’m taken care of. His kindness is genuine, exuding off him in waves. He can’tnothelp to make sure I’m comfortable.
I shoot my sister a text while I watch him load up my vehicle.
Call me in twenty minutes. If I don’t answer, call the cops. Winterberry Junction, Vermont. Tell them I was last seen with Beckett Nicholas. Hopefully they’ll know where to find my body.
I can’t help the dramatics. My imagination’s always been overactive. Comes in handy for my bestselling children’s books series. My main character, AJ Hart, is a combination of Sammy Keyes, Cam Jansen, and Nancy Drew. Given our technical advances, she’s a lot more tech-savvy than the others, solving crimes in her small town with her kickass sidekicks, Penelope and Ellis Wooten.
What started as a short story for a senior seminar quickly morphed into kids everywhere clamoring for my autograph. My agent’s hounding me to get back out on tour next year, but I’ve had the worst writer’s block the past two years. Part of the reason I booked the week at the cabin.
Well, and to avoid Christmas. Last year was . . . too much. The thought makes me twitch. Thankfully, Beckett’s loaded my SUV onto his flatbed.
The driver’s side door creaks open, and Beckett climbs up into the seat. He removes his cap and gloves, holding his bare hands to the vents.
“How far away is your house from here?”
“About five miles north.” Once his hands are warmer, he clicks his seat belt. “Might take a little while with the snow. It’s coming down harder. It’s too bad we aren’t closer to Christmas with the snow they’re predicting overnight. Perfect conditions for a Christmas whiteout.”
“Nothing perfect about a whiteout,” I mumble. “Especially on Christmas.”
I shift my body to face the windshield, away from Beckett’s curious eyes. I suppose he’ll have to focus on the road once we’re on the way, but I like to be the first one to look away. Gives me some semblance of control over an out-of-control situation.
His deep chuckle rumbles through the cab. “The folks of Winterberry Junction would politely disagree with you. Any snow the week leading up to Christmas is a cause for celebration.”
“Is that so?”
“You’ll see.”
I chance a gander his way, the crooked smile splayed on his lips. If possible, it’s even bigger than before.
