Page 69 of Santa's Girl
“And tell her,” Jinx added, throwing a wink, “that the DOT said it was the snowplow’s fault. Insurance covered it. Clean slate. You’re golden, darlin’.”
Then they turned like a damn Christmas flash mob and headed out.
“Wait! Wait! You can’t just?—”
“We just did!” Jinx called over his shoulder.
They were gone.
I stood in the foyer in my slippers, blinking down at the keys in my hand like they were burning a hole in my palm.
Aunt Margie took a slow sip of her coffee and said, completely unbothered, “Well, that’ll be perfect.”
I turned toward her. “Perfect?! How is this perfect?!”
She smiled, far too pleased with herself. “Because I just got you a job.”
“...Come again?”
“At the community center. They’re desperate for help with events, kid programs, and they pay hourly. You’ll be full time and it comes with health insurance.”
“Margie—!”
She waved a hand. “You’ve got a new truck. A job. And a man who’s clearly ready to move mountains for you. I’d say Christmas came early.”
I looked at the keys again.
Maybe it had. I got dressed, pulled on my boots and had to check this thing out.
I stepped outside and just… stopped.
There it was.
Parked like it had always belonged there.
A Ford F-250, jet black, snow tires gleaming, chains already on, and a literalplowstrapped to the front like I was about to go carve a road through the damn Yukon.
I stood on the porch, keys still warm in my palm, mouth open.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered.
My phone buzzed.
BEAR
Truck’s a company vehicle. MC-owned. Tax write-off. Don’t go gettin’ mad, city girl.
I stared at the message in disbelief.
Buzz.
BEAR
You can pay me back in kisses.
I laughed out loud. Covered my face. Bit my lip.
And then it came again.
