Page 2 of A Very Bumpy Christmas
“Name’s Lucas.” He extends a hand, big and calloused but warm as I shake it. “I run with Dean’s security team. The Denver team.”
Ofcoursehe’s in security. That explains the wholeI can probably lift this car if I wanted tovibe he’s giving off.
“Well, Lucas, it’s very nice to meet you,” I say, giving my best friendly smile. “I’m Melanie. The friend who was not prepared for mountain driving, clearly.”
He laughs again. “We’ve all been there. Tell you what—no point in sitting here waiting on the roadside. Hop in. I’ll take you the rest of the way. I know where the cabin is.”
I hesitate for half a second—then remind myselfDean’s team, Asher’s his boss, this man is vetted ten ways to Sunday. And honestly? The thought of sitting in my cold car for an hour waiting on a tow from the rental company is way less appealing than being driven through the mountains by a handsome security specialist.
“You’re sure? I don’t want to mess up your afternoon.”
He tips his head toward the passenger door. “Wouldn’t offer if I minded.”
Okay, then. “Let me grab my stuff.”
A few minutes later I’m settled into the passenger seat of his truck, duffel and camera bag at my feet, my two suitcases in the back, and the seatbelt clicks into place.
“Nice rig,” I say, eyeing the pristine dashboard and faint smell of leather.
He throws me a sidelong glance. “Don’t tell anyone—I spent more time picking out this truck than I did my last apartment.”
I laugh, tension sliding away. The engine hums to life, and we ease back onto the road, the windows cracked to let in the crisp mountain air.
“So you do security,” I say, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Yup. Background in military, then contract work, now with Dean’s firm full time. Denver branch is new—we’re still building out the team. Asher’s running point.”
“How exciting.”
He gives a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, I love what I do.” He throws me a smile that does funny things to my stomach. “And now here I am rescuing stranded influencers.”
I grin. “You know?”
“The shoes,” he says, eyes twinkling. “You may be wearing yoga pants, but those are influencer-level sneakers. Plus, I recognized you. Melanie Mason, right?”
My cheeks warm. “Guilty.”
“Well, the rescue pups are about to have a hell of a photographer.”
For the next twenty minutes, the conversation flows easily—Lucas is a great listener with a dry wit, and every time he smiles I catch myself wanting to lean closer. We talk about the rescue, about my social accounts, about life in the mountains.
“Next time I come you’ll have to take me hiking in the mountains,” I say as we round a bend, the cabin coming into view. Warm lights glow through the big windows, and a few dog silhouettes bounce happily behind the fence.
“Deal.” He glances at me, smile softer now. “And next time you drive up here—make sure you’ve got a spare.”
I laugh, unbuckling my seatbelt. “Next time I’ll just call you first.”
He parks beside the cabin, engine idling. I turn to him, heart still fluttering from the unexpected rescue and this surprisingly charming ride.
“Thanks again, Lucas. Really.”
He meets my gaze, voice low. “Anytime, Melanie.”
Our eyes linger a beat too long before I grab my bags and hop down, cheeks flushed. Charlotte waves from the porch, calling out, “You made it! We were about to send a search party.”
Asher appears beside her, frowning like the protective big brother he is until Lucas steps out.
“Lucas?” Asher says, brows lifting. “You two know each other?”
