Page 4 of OMG Christmas Tree
“Good. We think the radiation will work.” I silently cursed the tumors plaguing her body. One more year left on her mayoral term and cancer tried to take her down. We wouldn’t let it. I sighed, taking in the trees nobody else wanted. Not a great selection.
Rob let out a breath in a white puff against the brisk December air. “We hung onto one for you, but figured if you wanted it, you would have come by now. I sold the tree ten minutes ago.”
“Ten minutes?” I scanned the lot. “They’re gone?”
“Yeah. I tied that monster to a joke of a sedan. Twenty bucks says it won’t make it home without a flat tire.”
Ethan elbowed his brother. “Jerk. The tree will fall off the roof if you’re the one who tied it.”
“Nope. I tied that sucker tight.”
Their bickering faded. All I heard:ten minutes agoandwon’t make it home.
“It’s been real.” I tipped my chin up at the brothers as my send-off. Traitors.
I jumped into my truck and threw it in reverse, nearly taking down a tree that gave Charlie Brown’s a run at most pathetic pine. I shifted into drive and turned out of the lot, headed toward town. Somebody packing a ten-foot tree onto a dinky car wouldn’t chance the highway.
With last night’s temperature drop, the snowy roads had turned slick with ice. This was stupid. I was chasing some stranger who bought the tree I should have picked up weeks ago. I pounded my fist against the wheel.Don’t cancel the benefit. I’ll take care of everything.My own words haunted me.
A giant spruce loomed ahead on the left side of the road. I just needed a chainsaw and the cover of night—
I hit the brakes. My all-wheel snow tires did the job and brought me to stop. I checked my mirror — not a car in sight behind me. Ahead, a car angled into the ditch. A giant Christmas tree hung lopsided off the roof.
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IPULLED TO THE SIDEof the road behind the ditch-bound car and jumped out of my truck. Someone could be inside, hurt, unless this car had been sitting here awhile. But given the size of the tree and Rob’s story about the sad sedan, this had to be the same car that just left the Sawyer lot.
I approached the car. Through the driver’s side window, a person appeared hunched over a cell phone.
I knocked on the window. “You okay in there? I can help.”
Snow and exhaust streaked the window. A mechanical whir sounded and died, but the glass didn’t budge. The door opened instead.
A woman stepped out. A twenty-something-ish, puffy-coated woman with pale skin instantly turning rosy from the crisp wind. A thin silver hoop circled one side of her nose and long dark curls fell from her knit cap. The cap had one of those fuzz balls on top.
Her eyes widened at the sight of me. “Oh, hi. Thank you so much for stopping.”
My jaw fell open. It actually hinged open like some Neanderthal mouth-breather.
I snapped it shut. Those traitors. The Sawyer brothers neglected to mention a key detail. That person they sold my tree to happened to be gorgeous.
She held up her phone. “I’m still trying to find the number for my car insurance company. When I switched phones this year, the number must not have saved to the cloud. And of course, the tree would decide to slide off the roof in the center of absolutely nothing. Can you believe they wanted me to get them a tree? I mean, really?” She looked at me with expectation.
Okay, so, shaken up. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”
“Oh. No, I’m fine. I’m annoyed, is all.” She sighed. “I have one bar of connectivity to the outside world. And I’m not about to call my mom.”
Her dilemma hit home more than I cared to admit. “Okay, so you’re not hurt. Your car is...stuck in a ditch.” I peeked around to the other side of the car where the tree hung loose from its ties. “Where’d you get this tree?”
“The lot down the road. Sawyers.”
Confirmed. “Friggin’ Rob.”
“What?”
“Nothing. They did a terrible job tying this.” Rob must have been distracted. Kind of like how I was distracted by this flustered, very pretty woman who clearly needed help. I sized up her car. “Doesn’t seem safe to tie it back. They should’ve known back at the lot you couldn’t get this home with what you’re driving.”
She visibly flinched. “Look. I’m doing the best I can. Do you have a signal? I can try calling roadside help from your phone.”
