Page 7 of Run, Run Mistletoe
“Do you have any help out there?”
“I don’t need help.”
“You might. Why don’t you just think about it? I’m going to pay cash and I’ll go twenty percent over asking. As long as the inspection looks good.”
“I’m not interested.” She turns her slim back and the crimson hat on her head swings out. She’s like a little angry Christmas elf.
“Go find someplace else,Frankincense.” She deliberately puts a little sting to the name and I huff out a sharp breath.
“You can’t take care of that farm by yourself,Mistletoe, and you know it. I’m doing you a favor taking it off your hands.”
“Don’t do me any favors.” She stomps off to her truck and slams the old door, glaring at me the whole time. When she starts that old thing it grinds a little bit and I walk forward, opening my mouth to tell her that she shouldn’t drive home in that thing.
But she turns the wheel and slams it into drive, dust trailing along behind her. I run inside and holler, “Hey, Mom! I’ve got to go. I forgot about a meeting that I need to get out of the way and I left my laptop at the bed and breakfast.”
“Oh, okay, honey! Be careful and call me when you’re all done!”
“Sure, Mom! Bye!”
I charge out the door and pull my coat on over my button-down and jeans, rolling my eyes at the frayed edges and ripped-apart seams.
“That thing is a menace,” I mutter.
I slam the door on my brand-new SUV and head for the bed and breakfast. Mistletoe’s farm is only a little way past it so I should run into her along the way. An over-riding need to make sure she’s okay roars to life inside me.
I don’t know why. Don’t want to know why right now.
All I know is that I need to get to her. Need to make sure that she’s okay.
It’s only about ten minutes later that I see flashing lights up ahead and I know.
I pull in behind the old truck that’s steaming alongside the road. I step out and the other door ahead of me says stubbornly closed.
I step up to the window and tap at it. For a minute I think she’s going to ignore me. But then her narrow shoulders sink and she slowly unrolls the window.
The truck is so old it doesn’t even have electric windows.
Her eyes remain stubbornly fixed ahead. “Need a ride, Mistletoe?”
“No,” she huffs.
“Well, that’s a pity. Because if I leave you here alone my mom and yours would break me in half. So get what you need and I’ll run you home. We can call a tow truck from there. Your truck isn’t going anywhere anyway.”
“I need to go to the school later to pick up my daughter so it better be running soon.”
I could argue with her but I might as well let the mechanic break the news. I doubt if she’d believe me anyway.
She huffs and rolls up the window then the door flies open and she drops to the ground and reaches back to gather some packages off the seat.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Christmas presents. For my daughter.” Her words are short and sharp and a niggling annoyance trails through me.
I’m trying to do her a favor. I could leave her stranded out here.
Not that I ever would. The thought of her being stuck out here alone terrifies me.
Any woman. I’d think that about any woman.
