Page 57

A teenager with a big, fat, secret crush.

“Hey, B, I’m okay now.” With one shoulder, I clamp my phone against my ear, carrying my bags as I follow his bootprints left in the soft powder coating the gravel.

“Do I need to send out a search party, or call a lawyer, or post bail, or what?”

“Nah, you can stand down. Crisis averted for the moment.” My eyes drift up to the open doorway and the broad shoulders waiting just inside. To the man holding the door for me because that’s the kind of thing he does without question. The cowboy who ended up being my knight in shining armor, after all.

“Did you make it to Crimson Ridge okay? The weather turned to shit over here real quick tonight.”

“Over here? Where are you?” Walking into the Rhodes home feels as natural as anything. I know every nook and cranny in this house, and there’s something comforting in the fact it hasn’t changed hardly at all that I can see at first glance.

“We’re spending Christmas with Flinn’s family this year, remember?”

Oh, shit.

“Sorry, crown me world’s crappiest friend right now. Totally forgot you guys were heading out of town for the holidays.”

“I’ll forgive you. Can’t blame you for forgetting, considering the fact you didn’t sleep and made like five thousand Christmas wreaths in two weeks, Sky. Crazy bitch workaholic that you most certainly are.” He chuckles in that deep voice that reminds me of weekends spent teasing each other and driving back roads with the windows rolled down, blasting Nirvana, and daydreaming of the bright futures that our lives might bring.

I’m standing in the entrance hall, knowing exactly how many steps it takes to reach the guest room at the top of the staircase to my left. A room that I’ve stayed in too many times to count over the years. Yet, I don’t make a move. Something about this particular visit, when Brad isn’t here, changes things.

“So why were you blowing up my phone, bestie? Do I need to egg a certain wank face’s house when I get back?”

Scrunching my eyes, I brace myself for the inevitable. “Yeah … so … you were right about him. The guy was cheating on me.” I say that last part as hushed as possible, because I don’t know where Brad’s father has disappeared off to inside the house after shutting the door behind me, and I also feel insanely embarrassed at the prospect of having to discuss the truth behind my roadside rescue.

“Bitch, I knew it.” The phone rustles as Brad does something on the other end of the line. “Flinn, babe, I told you,” he hollers in the background.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to alert the entire village,” I hiss.

There’s a pause while he mutters something under his breath and hums in agreement. “Flinn says he wants you to know that he knew it too, by the way.”

“Well, aren’t you both just a pair of clair-fucking-voyants.”

“Our powers extend beyond bi panic and having excellent style, you know.” He clicks his tongue at me. “Wait … so, if you’re in Crimson Ridge … but you’ve ditched Jere Prick Face …”

Shit. Here it comes.

“Um, so I might be standing in your house.”

“Huh?”

Words tumble out as I give Brad the rundown of my shitty night while shifting in place awkwardly in the entrance. It’s set back a little from the open-plan farmhouse kitchen, and as I fidget on the spot, I still don’t know where the man of the house has vanished to.

“God, Sky, I’m so sorry …” he groans. “But I’m warning you now, Dad’s probably gonna insist on his incredibly lame, old-man Christmas routine. Where he plonks his ass in a chair reading by the fire and alternates that with going to sleep, snoring, and just being super boring in general.”

A smirk threatens to escape onto my lips because Brad should know by now that that is one hundred percent the perfect-sounding day for me. My best friend is the social butterfly extrovert out of the two of us, and right now, curling up in front of the fire with a book sounds like my kinda heaven, Christmas or otherwise.

That quite possibly might be the perfect solution to soothe my bruised ego as I wait for the snow to clear, thanks to Jeremy and his kitchen blow job, and recharge my drained social battery after the craziness of the shop.

“I fucking heard that.” A gruff voice cuts across my head spin moment. Lucas Rhodes appears in front of me.

“Actually, maybe it’s kinda perfect. You two can both hate Christmas together.” Brad lets out a hearty laugh down the line. “Take good care of my girl, won’t ya, Dad?” he says loud enough for him to hear.

I’m internally dying at this entire situation.

Why yes, I would very much like to be taken care of by this slab of cowboy.

“Merry Christmas, guys.” It’s impossible to miss the way those dark eyes lock on mine as he replies to Brad.