Stranded for Christmas Read online

  Clearing my throat, I let the door slam shut and ask him, “Well doesn’t your fancy car have heat?”

  “I have to have it looked at,” he laughs, brushing the snow from his shoulders and stepping further into the slightly darkened store. I follow him then have to abruptly stop so I don’t run into the back of him, and I try to play it off like I’m fixing the mannequin close by. “And my cell phone seems to be dead.” He swears under his breath and I see him out of the corner of my eye shake his iPhone, as if that would make it come back to life. Swearing some more he turns towards me, shoving his phone back in his jacket. “You don’t happen to have a cell or phone here that I could use?”

  “No I forgot my phone at my house and everything here, phones and main lights, shut off at closing time,” I scoff. “Boss-man thinks it saves money that way.”

  “Yeah, I bet he would.” He laughs, looking me in the eye and I can see his expression change from almost light hearted about the situation to concern, his gaze scanning my face and that’s when I remember about my smeared makeup. Wiping at my cheeks I step around him to go and get my stuff. Maybe getting my boots and jacket on will hurry him out the door so this irrational need to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for a long, slow, not so ‘I just met you’ kiss goes away.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, following me but I just focus on my task at hand. I don’t need anyone to feel bad for me about the situation with my boss, especially not Mr. American Express Black Card. “I really hope those tears weren’t over that penguin of a boss you have.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that as I sit to take my heels off, finally looking back up at him as I rub my very sore feet. “Did you ever have someone make you so mad that you can’t help but cry a little?” I ask, throwing my heels in a plastic grocery bag and tugging my thick boot socks up to my knees, blushing inside at the way I see him following my every movement; his stare lingering on my upper leg.

  “Of course I have,” he says more to himself and his look is distant even though his eyes are still locked on my legs. He seems to snap out of it when I close my locker and when I stand his eyes meet mine, a flash of longing and pain running through them so close to the surface that I almost feel bad for this handsome man because he’s hiding it inside. He’s tall, fit, with eyes and a smile that could melt any woman’s’ panties, perfect teeth, and dark brown hair that you can just daydream about tugging on while in bed with him. He’s also obviously got more than enough money, so what in the hell does this man standing before have to be sad and hurt about? And why the hell do I care?

  “Well Mr. Kelson…”

  “Shane. Please, call me Shane.” He interrupts me with that half smile and I have to keep on my way to the door to stop myself from falling under its spell.

  “Okay, Shane…I have to get going, I have quite the walk ahead of me, so if you don’t mind?” I wait for him to say okay and just walk out the door in front of me and to never see him again, but he doesn’t budge. Wrapping my scarf around my neck and pulling my hat on, he still hasn’t said anything but I can see the thoughts running around in his head.

  “This may seem weird,” he starts, laughing to himself and shoving his hands in his designer jean pockets like every guy tends to do when he’s nervous or feeling awkward. “But, can I follow you to your house and maybe charge my phone?”

  “You? Follow me to my house?” I sound like a broken record with repeating him but this is just unbelievable. “That means you’ll have to walk, in the snow and wind, and I don’t live in some fancy complex or community. I live on a hill with only one neighbor.”

  “That’s fine with me, as long as I’m warm and dry I’ll be okay.” His eyes light up when I roll mine at him. Zipping up my jacket and reflective safety vest I give him a once over and hand him the spare safety vest I always carry in my purse, just in case. He looks at it like it’s an alien artifact and I shake my hand at him till he takes it.

  “First, you need to go get a better jacket; that leather will not keep you warm. Go get one off the rack and I’ll damage it out when I get back to work after Christmas. Second, do the same with a pair of boots, socks, gloves and a hat.” He’s looking at me like I’m telling him a murder plot but I have no time for this, I want to get home. “It’s okay, I swear. I can either bring them back with me or you can give me your credit card info and pay to keep them. Now come on! You have five minutes or I’m leaving you here.”

  With that I cross my arms and wait, trying not to return the mischievous grin he gives me before jogging off towards the Men’s clothing. God, even though I’m annoyed that I want this man so bad I feel like chasing after him and tackling him into the bedding section, I can’t help but shamelessly stare at his ass. It’s got to be like steel.

  Damn, I’m starting to think that letting him come to my house is going to be a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  CHAPTER 4

  Shane

  “Really?” Caroline laughs as I jog back toward her after picking out a better jacket, hat and gloves.

  “What?” I stop just short of her so that I have to look down on her absolutely gorgeous face. Damn, she’s seemingly even hotter although she’s bundled up in her down jacket and red knitted hat. Her blue eyes work me over and I laugh as she stops on the hat I picked out.

  “Donatello? Really? You couldn’t have just picked a regular hat?” she laughs again, rolling her eyes and turning away heading for the door. She stops for only a second to fix her hat in the reflection of the glass and I’m pretty sure she catches me checking out her ass, but hell, I don’t care.

  “Do you have something against the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? I loved the original cartoon when I was little.” Just thinking of the many Saturdays I spent on the floor in front of my parents television set when I was younger makes me smile and I see hers as well.

  She shakes her head and adds, “No it’s just I’m more of a Michelangelo girl myself.” She looks at me over her shoulder, “You ready?”

  “Cowabunga dude,” I reply and she bursts out in laughter as she opens the door. The snow is now up to the middle of my shins so it’s close to her knees, but she waits for me to walk past and turns to lock the door behind us. The wind is whipping the snow so fast that it feels like little needles slapping me in the face. I step to try and block the gusts from Caroline when I see her struggling to get the lock to turn. Finally we both hear the bolt slide into place and she turns her face up towards mine.

  “Come on!” she shouts over the wind and I just nod for her to lead the way. She reaches into her purse, pulling out and handing me a flash light. The sky is nice and dark now, so along with the reflective vest she gave me, I’m glad that this intelligent woman has thought of these precautions to keep herself safe when walking home.

  There is no sense in trying to talk to her, she wouldn’t hear me over this wind, so I just follow, looking behind us every once in a while to make sure there aren’t any headlights headed out way as we make our way to what I think is the street. She tries to stay on the sidewalk but the snow is drifted up to my knees and her thighs so I grab her upper arm and help her get to some faint tire tracks left in the snow. Side by side I can’t help but sneak glances at her. Even in the dim light from our flashlights and the almost blinding snow, her beauty is killing me. What the hell am I doing? These thoughts and feelings about this woman that I just met are quite irrational, but they are raging through me. It’s almost like I’m a teenager again and I can’t control my hormones because even now, in the freezing dark, I have the urge to push her down in the snow bank and rip our clothes off. No woman has ever undone me like this before.

  “We’re almost there!” she shouts while standing on her tiptoes and motioning down a dark road with her flashlight. I can just make out the Oak Road on the sign as we turn into the wind. The change in direction makes me realize how soaked my jeans are and I shine my light on her to see that her pants are soaked all the way to her ass and she’s shivering with
every step. I slip my arm around her, trying to help her and she looks up at me with a small smile, her face giving away her discomfort and I hope it’s just from the cold and not me.

  I can’t tell you why I care so much that she feels safe and comfortable around me, but I do. My heart tells me that I should do anything to make this so, so I tug her closer to my side and feel her start to relax into me. I’d pick her up and carry her the rest of the way if she’d let me, but I know that even if she is freezing she’ll fight me tooth and nail. She seems like that kind of spitfire.

  A lone porch light comes into view through some trees and I’m hoping it’s her place, not only because I feel frozen but because her shivering is getting worse. Sure enough she starts heading down what I assume would be her driveway if it wasn’t blanketed in thigh high snow and I can see in the porch light that her front door is blocked by snow halfway up it.

  “Do you have a shovel?” I lean over and say into her ear, still with my arm around her. I follow her gaze to the mounds of snow and know it’s buried in there somewhere. “Stay here, I’ll make a path to the door.” With my hands on her shoulders I look down at her, her lips quivering as her arms go around herself. I can see the temporary fight in her eyes, but she just nods and I turn to get to work. Hanging onto the part of the railing that I can see, I pull myself up near the door, the snow almost up to my waist in a huge drift.

  Pushing the snow away from the sides of the door with my hands I catch a glimpse of a prancing dog just inside. He looks up at me, his bark drowned out by the howling wind and I wave at him when my other hand finds the butt of the shovel handle. There is a lot of snow, but it’s still light so I make quick work of the porch and steps, making a path that I know will only last an hour or two at this rate.

  I clear the last patch and Caroline runs up the stairs past me, keys in her hand and in the lock before I can put the shovel down. Pushing open the door, the black and white dog darts past us, and I watch him stop at the bottom of the steps where I stopped shoveling. He sniffs, lifts his leg, does his business and then stands there for only a second looking out into the darkened woods surrounding the home before he turns and sprints back to us.

  “It’s even too cold for Bullet,” she laughs, closing the door and flicking on a light. The warmth of the little cabin is doubled as the cozy interior is lit up. It’ like something you’d see in a Hallmark Christmas movie where the character lives or vacations in the country. I’m assuming this room is her living room with its couch, loveseat, oversized chair and fireplace with a television above it.

  “Earth to Shane,” breaks my scanning of the room and I see her staring at me from a breakfast nook, her jacket, hat and boots already off. “You can take your stuff off.” She motions towards hers neatly placed by the door.

  “Yeah, sorry, I was just admiring your place.” Shedding and hanging my jacket next to hers, I sit down beside her on the little bench. She even smells delicious; her perfume reaching me as she turns towards me.

  She rolls her eyes and says, “Oh yeah, right. Like this is anything compared to some places you’ve lived.” Her blue eyes lock onto mine and I finally see what she thinks of me. I’m just a rich guy with a big bank account. Someone who doesn’t have time, and could care less, about someone like her. Well, I’ll just have to show her how wrong she is.

  “I don’t really care about how expensive, or fancy, a place is. A place has to have heart and feeling, and this place certainly has it.” Kicking off the boots, I’m reminded of how soaked my pants are as the cold denim hits my leg. I can’t help but groan at it but the light laugh that comes from Caroline makes all that aggravation go away.

  I look up to see her walking away, looking at me over her shoulder, still laughing. “What’s so funny?” I ask and she shakes her head, still walking towards the back of the house. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting some dry clothes and I might have some sweats or something that might fit you.” She disappears around a doorway into a dark room as a light comes on, illuminating the nice size bed in the middle of the space.

  “Something that will fit me?” I mumble to myself and look at the dog, Bullet, who is sitting just beyond my feet, his head level with my knees and his eyes locked on mine. I can tell he’s debating whether or not he likes me, his head cocking to the side with his ears perked. After a few seconds his jaw drops, his tongue hangs out and he leans over to scoot his snout under my hand just begging for me to pet him.

  Scratching him behind the ears I yell to Caroline, “Where’s your bathroom?”

  “Through the kitchen then to your right. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Alrighty. Bullet trots along beside me as I find my way down the hall from the kitchen, past a small bedroom to the bathroom. He sits obediently as I shut the door that I have to chuckle to myself. I haven’t had the time for a dog since I was in high school and that dog had been my best friend since I was ten. I missed his companionship when he finally passed away right before I left for college.

  Christmas music breaks my reminiscing and I stop to listen, hearing a soft beautiful voice singing along with Elvis Presley’s ‘Blue Christmas’. Damn, when will this woman stop making my heart race and blood pump? What I assume is the sound of drawers shutting makes me hurry up and shed my wet clothes, leaving my pants, boxer briefs, socks and shirt in a pile on the floor near the tub. Digging my phone out of my pants pocket, I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist leaving the bathroom in search of the sexy redhead and some dry clothes.

  CHAPTER 5

  Caroline

  I am soaked. I hear my guests’ feet pad across the floor towards my bathroom and then I focus in on trying to peel these jeans from my shivering body. A normal undressing is not in my cards right now as the wet material sticks to my hips, so I sit on the edge of my bed, lean back a little and yank; my panties, jeans and socks finally leaving my pale skin.

  I take in a relaxing deep breath, letting the warmth of my home chase the chill of my walk away. Shedding my shirts as well, I pull on a pair of bright pink lace panties, black yoga pants and an old tank from my dresser, shutting the drawer and moving to my closet to see if I have some of my ex’s clothes tucked in a tote.

  Things hadn’t ended well with my ex, James, over five years ago. After dating him through high school and two years of college, I had found out from another friend that he had been cheating on me with a classmate of ours for a few years. So, needless to say, our breakup was nasty and I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. When moving from my old apartment to this place after that I had discovered a few pairs of sweatpants, boxers and shirts that he had left in with my clothing and tossing aside some of my summer clothes, I pull them from the tote.

  “Did you say you have something for me to wear?” Shane’s voice seems to wrap around me and I turn, my eyes starting at his bare feet and roaming up. My towel is loosely held to his waist, just small enough to only come to mid-thigh and following his toned leg up, that’s where my eyes linger on the outline of his manhood.

  Good Lord. I know it’s horrible of me but I can’t help but notice that he seems semi-hard, and by the look of it he is very well endowed. So much so, that when my mind starts working again I catch myself licking my lips. His abs aren’t washboard but they are nice, just toned enough to make me want to run my nails along them and see how he reacts. The same goes with his chest and arms.

  When I finally meet his gaze, seemingly hours later, the blush automatically fills my skin and my look falls to the floor. Damnit.

  “Here. These should fit you, I think.” Is all I get out, shoving the clothing into his arms and practically running out to the kitchen, all the while with my gaze still on the hardwood.

  Bullet’s nails click along behind me as I reach the fridge and whisper to myself, “I’m such a freaking loser.” Grabbing a bottle of wine I release a small sigh of relief noticing that it’s just a screw top and I don’t have to struggle with a cork.

&nbs
p; “I’m going to use this charger in here, is that ok?” he yells from my bedroom.

  “Sure thing!” I say, remembering why he had suggested making the trek to my house in the first place; his phone was dead. Getting a glass down, a blush runs through me again when I hear his footsteps softly pad from my bedroom.

  “Can I have a glass too?” I don’t turn to answer him but instead just nod and grab another, pouring the white wine into both when I finally look up, noticing he’s already got some newspaper lit in the fireplace to help start the kindling. Taking a large sip, delighting in the light fruity taste of the Muscat, I refill my glass and bring both into the living room.

  “You know how to properly work a fireplace?” I ask, it coming out way bitchier than I wanted it to and I inwardly cringe. A grin comes to his lips and he shakes his head, tossing some logs on top of the burning kindling.

  “Don’t doubt a former Boy Scout.” He says, smiling up at me and winking as if he knows that it will make my heart race. I have to get up from my worn out couch to stop a shock of lust from shaking my entire body and being noticeable to him, and I mindlessly go over to my pantry, reach in and scoop a cup of food into Bullet’s dish. Just like every day he comes over and licks my hand, starting to eat even before I’ve finished pouring the kibble in and I scratch him behind the ears.

  ‘If only you could talk and save me from my awkward self, Bullet.’ I think when I pat him on the back and return to the now fire-lit living room. Shane now has my television remote and is flipping through the channels, the normal classic Christmas movies flying by as he scrolls. His feet are propped up on the coffee table and crossed over one another, and one arm is folded behind his head as he leans back. “You sure do make yourself at home.”