Page 8 of Wishing on Snowflakes

“Take me out of here!” I grasp his shirt and tilt my face up, trying to look like I just had the best idea ever and not like I’m desperately pleading.

“Me? Are you sure?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing adorably. I’m inwardly delighted to feel both of his hands still on my arms, steadying me. One of them is even rubbing small, soothing circles. “You just met me,” he points out.

Yes, take me away with you…

“I need to leave, and I can’t drive,” I reason.

He studies me silently, and while I could look into those concern-riddled hazel depths for lifetimes, I kind of need him to hurry up and agree here. This town is not that big, making Scott’s journey here a short one.

He finally sighs with a lopsided smile.

“All right,” he agrees before taking my hand in his, making my ovaries rejoice. “But I’m taking you straight home,” he adds sternly, leading me through the bar while I drunkenly giggle.

CHAPTER3

Kyle

Itake Gwen out the back door and try to keep her steady as we round the building and walkthrough the icy parking lot. She slips several times, almost dislocating my shoulder a time or two when she grabs it on the way down.

Worth it.

With the lot full for trivia night, I had to park across the street. The clumsy, adorable, Megan Fox-looking goddess slips and laughs at herself a few more times before we finally make it to my car. As I open the passenger side to help her in, Gwen does some kind of double-take, looking at something near the tree line that sits opposite the bar.

“Oh my gosh!” She gasps, her eyes wide and full of sympathy.

“What?” I ask, trying to follow her gaze in the dark.

“A lost dog! Oh my God, the poor thing! I’ve always wanted to help a stray dog.” She presses her lips together in a yearning pout before nudging past me. “Over here, little guy!” she whisper shouts, trying to coax what I now see is some kind of dog. Its back is turned, making only its hindquarters and tail visible. My first guess is something along the lines of Husky or German Shepherd.

Until it turns around.

Nope. Not a husky. Not any kind of shepherd, either. Now that I can see its full body and head, it’s indiscernibly, positively a coyote, and it’s looking right at us.

“Shit!” I gasp, trying to keep the sound low in my throat.

“What?” Gwen asks, one of her eyes squinting up at me.

I swallow hard before answering as calmly as possible. “Um… uh… you’re trying to adopt a coyote.”

“What?” She lets out a high-pitched giggle, sounding like one of those Minions. “No way.” She waves a hand like I’m full of shit.

“Yes way. I understand you’re wearing beer goggles at the moment,” I try to reason, but my wavering voice gives away my nerves. “But that is a wild dog, not domestic. It’s a coyote that has wandered from his little habitat and into the outskirts of civilization.”

As if to demonstrate my explanation, the thing lets out a low growl that, fortunately, isn’t as lost on Gwen as my words. She immediately jumps into my arms, wrapping herself around me like a spider monkey, but with the strength of a boa constrictor.

“Oh my gosh! That’s a coyote!” she exclaims, craning her neck over her shoulder, still gawking.

No shit?

In the following seconds, I shit you not, the coyote in question rolls his eyes at us, like we’re the assholes in this situation, and bounds back into the woods.

“Oh,” Gwen whimpers when he’s out of sight. “But I wanted to rescue a pup.”

“I know.” I placate her with a pat on her back. “And I’m sure you’ll get to one day. But for now, we’re going to get you home.”

* * *

Idid not take Gwen straight home. She was a little too incoherent to give me directions and mumbled something about how a degenerate fuckboy loser might find her there, leaving me with no choice but to take her to my place in the hopes of sobering her up. I’m going out on a limb and presuming she recently got out of a relationship, and not in an amicable way.

---