Page 65 of A Very Naughty Christmas

They eventually made it to the Save-a-Lot, the only cars in the half-plowed lot those with four-wheel drive. Getting a cart and feeling very domestic, they scrounged through the picked-over shelves for cold provisions. Pumpernickel, not her favorite, was the only bread in stock other than a pack of hot dog buns, which they threw in the buggy as well. Canned tuna, a new squeeze bottle of mayo, single-serving bottles of juice, more soda, cold coffee—Frappuccino, because Kyle was jonesing for caffeine—chips, chips, and more chips, and two more packs of Double-Stuf Oreos.

At the checkout, while laughing at the junk food rolling down the conveyor belt, a man came up behind Kyle and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Another gorgeous redhead, Prescott? Save some for the rest of us.”

He whirled, then grinned when he recognized him. “Mack, you brought your precious Beemer out in the snow? I’m shocked, more so that your princess car made it.”

His smile was replaced by a scowl at the ribbing. “I know, it doesn’t do shit in rain, let alone snow. I got stranded at Chelsea’s place, so I’m here in her Jeep.”

“Poor girl. And was she so sick of having her ex underfoot that she sent you with a shopping list to get a moment of peace?”

“Bastard,” he shot back, though it was obviously typical banter for them. Then his face softened into a genuine smile. “Actually, we came to a meeting of the minds last night.”

“No joke?” Kyle asked, serious now.

“You know we’ve both been miserable since we broke up.”

“And you know what I say, divorce in haste, repent in leisure. It’s not always greenerand no relationship is easy. You’re better off sticking around and working to revive what brought you together in the first place, rather than calling it quits, in most cases.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mack winked at her. “Get used to him being right all the time, babe. He always is.”

“Now tell her that she’s the only gorgeous redhead I’ve been with, before she freaks out.”

“You were the one in the stairwell?” he asked. Dixie flushed furiously, making Mack grin. “Well, all right. He’s been moping about the one that got away for a long damn time.”

“Mack,” Kyle warned, but his friend went right on.

“When I saw the two of you making out under the mistletoe, I had great hope that horrible Mr. Hyde would morph into jolly Dr. Jekyll again. Does you two being domestic and shopping together mean he’s gone for good? If so, thanks for that, babe. He’s been hell to work with lately.”

“Really?” she asked, sending a scowling Kyle an interested sidelong glance.

“Meet Jake Mackenzie, aka the mouth of the south. And stop calling her babe.”

“I’m also his partner.” The shaggy-haired, barrel-chested man in the padded flannel shirt appeared more like a lumberjack than a doctor. “I know things, beautiful. Call me.” He held his thumb and pinky up to his ear like a phone as he gave her an exaggerated wink, then walked away chuckling, with Kyle glaring holes in his back.

As she considered their interesting exchange, Kyle paid for the groceries and with all the bags in one hand, grabbed hers with the other and led them out of the store.

“You were worried about that redhead remark,” he said a few minutes later as he pulled onto the main street. “You’re going to have to find a way to trust me, Dixie, or this won’t work.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied softly. “Remember, you said you’d be patient with me.”

His fingers curled around hers where they rested on the console, where he’d spanked her not an hour ago. He tugged off her mitten and raised her hand to his lips.

“I’m nothing if not patient, darlin’. I’ve been waiting twelve years for this opportunity. I’m not about to give up so easily and neither will my itchy palm.”

Chapter Eight

The power was on the next morning and the roads were passable. All of Kyle’s surgeries the day before had been cancelled since the patients couldn’t come in. Their hospitalist had covered their rounds, allowing him to stay with Dixie. Now that light traffic was moving on the main streets and the world was emerging from the weather-imposed hibernation, he had to get to work.

He drove her to the diner for her seven o’clock shift. The sidewalks were cleared and the lights were on inside.

“Looks like we’re back in business,” she observed with a weighty sigh. “After being cooped up for two days, people will be anxious to be out and about. We’ll be swamped.”

“I hate for our snowbound break from reality to come to an end, but duty calls, even when it comes to feeding those suffering a bad case of cabin fever.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I’m on ER surgery rotation this weekend, but I’ll call you.” He keyed in the password for his smart phone and passed it to her. “Program your numbers in for me.”

She took it and opened his contacts. “I only have a cell, no landline,” she murmured as she awkwardly typed in her number on the touchscreen. “You can always catch me at work.” With a few more beeps, undo’s, and restarts, she added the diner too, then returned it to him.

He tucked it into his pocket, then held out his hand, palm up. She studied it for a moment, then laid her own in his, palm down.

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