Page 9 of Everything Christmas

Two months had passed since her last heated exchange with her grouchy neighbor. They’d pass in their cars and nod and wave. Mostly she did the latter. Once or twice, they’d run into each other on the sidewalk—him while jogging, her walking—and exchanged polite greetings, but that was about it. She was convinced he’d been avoiding her.

Another thing she’d noticed was the parade of floozies had slowed to a trickle. In fact, she hadn’t seen a tall, skinny model in a sports car ever since the scene on his doorstep weeks...no, months earlier. He felt the need to apologize for it, so it had clearly embarrassed him. Maybe he’d taken his bedroom activities on the road instead.

Looking at the mountain of junk and trash that sat at the end of her drive, she checked her watch, cursing softly to herself. Where was that We-Haul man? He was an hour late. Heading toward the house to call him, she heard an irritated voice call from behind her.

“Excuse me, you can’t leave this pile of crap by the curb if it’s not collection day. It’s city ordinance and a condo association violation. You’ll be fined by both.”

Turning, she saw the sexy sergeant standing at the end of her driveway, glaring at her with his hands on his hips. Pasting on a bright smile, she walked toward him. “I have a man coming by to pick it up. He’s late. I was just headed inside to call him.”

After looking at his watch, he informed her, “The landfill closes at six. Unless he gets here in the next couple of minutes, by the time he loads it up and drives out to the county dump site, they’ll be closed.”

“I’ll just run in and check on it. Thanks for the heads-up, Officer.”

“It’s Sergeant and it’s not a heads-up. It’s a warning that I will ticket you if this crap isn’t gone by six.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. It’s the law. Not to mention an eyesore for your neighbors, of which, I am one.”

“What am I supposed to do with it if he doesn’t show up?”

“Sorry, but that’s not my problem. Just have it gone by six.” With that, he turned his grouchy ass around and headed to his own condo.

“What a colossal jerk,” Merry muttered as she stomped up her driveway. “I guess southern gallantry and neighborly kindness don’t apply to hardheaded, sexy, Harley-riding assholes.”

Once inside, she slammed the door with all her might. As the loud bang echoed through the tile hallway, she paused, shocked by her own behavior. The sergeant had obviously pushed some hidden button. She never acted this way. In fact, her employees told new hires that she was the sweetest boss ever and that no one had ever seen her mad.

Half an hour later, she was pacing in her garage. Once again, she dialed and had to leave another message. She only had thirty minutes before Sergeant Sourpuss came over and ticketed her. How much would that be? Lord, she couldn’t risk a fine. She had already checked the association rules and theirs was $250. She had no idea how much his ticket would be. Drat! She’d just have to haul it back inside.

Getting into her car, she carefully backed out of her sparkling-clean garage. Today had been the first day it had been cleared out enough to park in. She’d never had a garage before and had been excited about having a warm car in the mornings and not having to scrape any more frost-covered windshields. Now, thanks to Dudley Do-Right and an unreliable haul-away business, she was going to have to junk it up all over again.

With no other choice, she began the arduous task of hauling the trash all the way back up the sloped drive and dumping it into her pristine garage. She was dropping off the first load when she heard a loud crash. Whipping around, she saw that her car, previously in her driveway, had rolled across the street and right over her personality-challenged neighbor’s mailbox. As she stood frozen in horror, she heard a door slam.

Too afraid to look but compelled to, she dared a peek. Sure enough, Sergeant Morgan was standing on his front steps with a horrified expression, which she was certain mirrored her own. Merry watched as he took in the wrecked car and mangled mailbox. When he suddenly turned and zoned in on her, brow furrowed and storm clouds rapidly gathering, she gulped.

Why did these things happen to her? Other than business luck, she had only bad luck. Murphy’s Law had always applied tenfold to her.

Taking a deep breath, she started down the drive for the umpteenth time that day.

“Do you have your keys?”

His deep voice carried easily across the street and caused a shiver of dread to run down her spine. His question halted her mid-step. She patted her pockets. Of course, she couldn’t find them. Was it possible for her to be an even bigger imbecile in front of him?

She raised a finger in his direction, silently asking for a minute then she grumbled all the way into the garage, wondering where she’d put them. After a futile search, she propped her hands on her hips and glanced around. They had to be here somewhere. She used them when she moved her car.

Maybe they were in the house. “I’m still looking,” she called as she veered off in that direction.

Reese’s voice echoed back, “Bring your driver’s license, insurance and registration, too. You’re gonna need ’em.”

She halted mid-step thinking he wouldn’t. But she hadn’t seen the lemonade-sipping charmer in months. He may have let her pay for repairs and foregone a ticket. But there was a snowball’s chance in H-E-double hockey sticks that grumpy, stickler, hard-ass Sergeant Morgan would.

***

REESE WATCHED THE CURVYlittle redhead stiffen at his words then stomp into her house, slamming the door behind her. She was feisty and sassy which he found utterly appealing. He probably would have been amused by her antics if he hadn’t had a really crappy day. Now he had a mailbox to fix.

Squatting down behind her blue car, he assessed the damage. Her piece of shit Chevy was at least fifteen years old. A new mailbox would cost more than she could get for her hunk of junk. The major rust and corrosion on the body was obvious, and he saw some brown liquid dripping out from underneath. Brake fluid was his guess.

As he stood, he watched her approach, purse in hand. She was really very pretty. He liked the way her glossy reddish-blonde curls bounced around her shoulders as she walked. Appearing curvy and soft in her jeans and tight tee, he had to remind himself for the hundredth time that she was his neighbor and therefore, off-limits.

---