Page 31 of Cross Check Christmas
"How about some music?" He taps on his controls screen, opening Spotify.
The sound of trumpets and the opening notes of Joy to the World fill the small cab.
Hendrix beams. “I love this song, don’t you?
“Sure.”
"Reminds me of a singing telegram I got yesterday. They changed 'Silent Night' to 'Leave Tonight.' Pretty creative, actually."
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. "I wouldn't know anything about that."
"Right." He shoots me a knowing look.
"Eyes on the road, please."
I can tell he’s all too pleased with himself, and when the song ends, he fiddles with his touch screen. "Want to pick the next song?"
"The road, Hendrix."
"Okay, okay. Tell me your favorite Christmas song."
I press myself harder against the door. "Why do you care?"
"Because contrary to what you might think, I actually want to know things about you." His voice softens, and I hate how itmakes my stomach flip. "I bet it's something classy. Like 'O Holy Night.'"
“Actually, it’s ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, for your information.”
He taps the screen a few times and then 'Jingle Bell Rock' blasts through the speaker.
"You never cease to surprise me. You seem like a traditional carols kind of woman."
"I seem like someone who wants to get this over with as quickly as possible."
The bass thrums through the cab, and I catch him sneaking glances at me between checking the snowy road. He starts singing along to the music deliberately off-key until I can't help but crack a smile.
"Your musical talents leave much to be desired."
"I've got other talents to make up for it." He waggles his eyebrows.
I turn to glare at him, but there's something disarmingly genuine in his expression that makes my sharp retort die in my throat. And I can't help noticing his bright, easy smile, how his light brown hair flops over his forehead, or how his shoulders flex under his henley as he navigates the winding road.
When he catches me watching him, he winks.
My cheeks heat up and I turn to stare out the window at the snow-covered fields. But I can still see his reflection in the glass, the way his eyes keep darting over to me, the slight grin playing at his lips.
"You know," he says, voice soft. "I've always loved this drive up to Sullivan’s. The way the snow coats the pines..."
"Mmhmm." I try to sound disinterested, but he's right. The landscape is magical, trees bowing under fresh powder. There's something enchanting about the way the pristine snow blankets everything in sight, transforming our ordinary countryside into something out of a storybook.
"Dad would pile us all into his truck every December first. No exceptions. Even if there was a blizzard, we'd bundle up and make the drive to Sullivan’s."
“I thought you spent Christmases in Germany.”
I only remember this because during my Sophomore year, I spent an entire afternoon baking cookies for Liam, only to find the Ellis family had left for Berlin the very first day of Christmas break.
“We did go to Germany a couple of times when we were older,” Hendrix replies. “Once Ingrid went off to college, Dad got it into his head that we needed to learn more about our heritage. It was nice, if not a little posh. We’d stay in the fanciest hotels within walking distance to Oma and Opa’s house. In retrospect, I’m glad we spent that time with them.”
“Oma and Opa is German for Grandma and Grandpa?”
