Page 69 of About Last Christmas
Leo? I blink to ensure I’m not seeing a snow mirage. I’m not sure if that’s even a thing. But my confusion gives way to pure relief as he lifts a hand in greeting.
I suspect Tilly’s behind this. Beautiful, wonderful Tilly.
I don’t often relish the damsel in distress role, but I have to say, it does have its perks. Like my current view being the late afternoon sun carving out Leo’s figure as he strides closer. Though I don’t mistake the concern etching his face. I open the door, pushing against the pressing snow, and peek out.
His gaze fuses to mine, and his shoulders lower, as if his every joint has locked tight, only giving way when he sees I’m unharmed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Which I’m thankful for. All things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse.
He stands on the edge of the snowbank, eyes raking over my car. “Any damage?”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I missed the deer. But I got new accommodations in this nicely furnished snowdrift.”
He smiles at my sarcasm.
His wool coat’s covering up his shirt, but I can tell from his khaki pants that he’s more dressed up than usual. The backward hat is noticeably absent, and his wild waves are subdued. Was he … on a date? I don’t like the clawing in my gut, but I currently have bigger issues—like getting my car off a mound of snow. “I called roadside assistance.”
“Cancel it. We’ll have you out.”
“We?” I twist in my seat and see Mitchell jumping out of Leo’s passenger door.
Mitchell grins with an exaggerated wave as he nears. “Hey, Greta. Did you lose sight of the road?”
I huff a laugh. “Sorry to pull you away from duty. Think of all those jaywalkers running amok.” Dressed in sweats, Mitchell definitely isn’t on patrol, but it’s nice to get jabs in when I can.
He rolls his eyes. “I see your mishap hasn’t affected your attitude. Tilly called and asked me to get ahold of a Remington Mathis from the fire department. Who turns out to be your Killer Hill friend.”
I ignore Mitchell’s eyebrow wag and glance at Leo, who’s cutting through the snowbank, the powder coming to his knees. I shiver just watching him approach.
He reaches my open door, and for some reason, my heart swells with emotion. It could be the awful morning I’ve had, orthe fact that he came for me even after I acted like a weirdo. I blink away the moisture and smile. “Thank you for being here.”
His eyes scan my face. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Then he glances at his snow-clad legs. “Well, maybe not in this exact spot.” He flashes a grin, even though he’s probably losing feeling in his lower extremities. “I’ll carry you out. Wrap your arms around my neck.”
I grab my purse, and Leo scoops me from the car like some kind of avalanche avenger. His arms tighten around me, and a surge of heat chases the chill from my fingertips.
While Leo’s trudging through the snowdrift, Mitchell is grabbing the kinetic rope from the truck bed.
I glance up at Leo, noting the snowflakes catching on his stubble, in his hair. “Was Mitchell grumbling the whole way because this pulled him away from football?” Growing up, Tilly and I would deliberately plan Jane Austen movie marathons on Sunday afternoons just to commandeer the television. It probably was mean, but Mitchell always got us back, one way or another.
Leo scoffs. “I don’t know who was more worried about you. Me or him.” He looks down at me, his lips hitching into a smile. “What is it with you, Greta the Charmer of Silver Creek Men?”
I snort. “Hardly.” Though I’m oddly touched he adopted my quirk of tacking on descriptors.
He manages to open the passenger side door to his truck while holding me and gently sets me inside. “Don’t downplay your influence.” His eyes are hot on mine. “Because you’ve got a chokehold on me.”
It’s freezing. I can’t feel the tip of my nose. But Leo’s words are a warm jolt, a shot of fire to my adrenals.
He saves me from coming up with a clever response by reaching across me and grabbing a travel blanket. He spreads itacross my lap. “Sit tight. We’ll get your car out.” He opens the glove box and pulls out a Snickers. “You must be starving.”
That’s it. The man has my entire heart. That beating gushy thing landed into Leo’s palm as he plunked chocolate into mine. “Thank you,” I casually say as if I’m not going to devour it in three bites once his back’s turned.
He opens the cab door and grabs … the folder I’d left at his house. “Here’s this too.”
I flush as he gently drops it onto my lap. “Thank you.”
Leo and Mitchell get to work, connecting the rope to my Highlander, then to Leo’s truck. The remainder of the human race seems to have decided to stay out of the elements because we have the entire stretch of road to ourselves.
I check my phone. It’s almost three. Two hours until Midge locks her doors.
