Page 11 of Hostile for the Holidays

I’m not one hundred percent clear on what the situation was with this Daniel guy, but I know I didn’t like it.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, an edge to my voice that I’ve never used.

That’s because I’ve never seen Stella St. James vulnerable like she was a moment ago and it awoke something inside me.

Protectiveness.

And when Daniel said he’d been romantically involved with Stella, I’d wanted to put him in a headlock and wrestle him to the ground. At the very least, tear up his sign with her name on it because I didn’t mastermind being next to her on our flighthome just to be ambushed by some guy with a bedazzled sign. I’m the one that held her on that airplane when she was sick and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some guy swoop in and make a move on my girl.

The problem is, she’s not my girl. She’s the furthest thing from it.

Stella and I have been at each other’s throats since we could form proper sentences. I don’t even remember how our rivalry started, but somewhere around our teen years it spiraled out of control, taking on a life of its own. Now, it’s me, Stella, and our rivalry. And three’s a crowd.

I’m not upset with her, but Daniel, who was making her feel uncomfortable. But as usual, where I’m concerned, she interprets my question as a personal attack and goes on the defensive.

“Nothing. Just forget it.” She grabs the handle of her suitcase and starts marching off.

“Where are you going?” I call. “Wasn’t he your ride?”

She halts at the mention of how she’s going to get home. That’s right. We’re an hour and one mountain pass from Cedar Hollow, our hometown. But then again, I wouldn’t put it past Stella to make the journey fueled only by sheer determination.

Jesus, she’s so fucking stubborn and I love it.

She swallows. Even on the heels of being sick, she’s got that fiery passion in her.

“I thought my dad was going to pick me up, but Daniel volunteered. He’s Tom’s cousin and apparently staying with my family for the holidays. I couldn’t handle an hour in the car with him making small talk.”

“I’ve got a rental car. I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get a rideshare or see if the shuttle has an available seat.”

“Stella, you’ve been sick. You’re tired and dehydrated. I’m driving you home.”

“Jasper—” She begins another argument but I’m losing my patience. While I like to see Stella passionate and fight for what she wants, I’m tired of fightingwithher. I want this Christmas to be different.

“Enough with this back and forth. You can walk to the car, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out.”

She blinks, like she can’t believe I said that to her. But once the shock wears off, she recovers with a smirk.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

I lunge toward her but she squeals, then scurries away from me and toward the exit.

“That’s what I thought.”

I grab the handle of her suitcase, then follow her out the doors pulling both of our suitcases. Outside the airport terminal, the chilly mountain air hits us, and I watch as Stella wraps her arms around her waist and shivers.

“Where’s your coat?” I ask.

“In my suitcase.”

“That’s a silly place for it.”

“It’s bulky and I didn’t want it on the plane. And if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.”

“Good evening, Mr. Jensen.” The concierge from the rental car company approaches from the curb where the Range Rover I rented is waiting. He helps us load our luggage into the back, then hands me the key.

“I should have known you weren’t renting a car like normal people.”

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