Page 139 of Holidating
She lets out a little gasp. “That’s what my therapist said. Almost word for word.”
He snorts. “Well maybe if this taxi thing doesn’t work out, I can become a therapist.” He puts the blinker on to exit the highway.
“Yes!” She cackles.
Grinning, he eases onto the off-ramp. He’s just begun to decelerate when a flicker of movement registers in his peripheral vision. A deer, stepping onto the road.
For a nanosecond, all he registers is the snow-globe beauty of the swirling flakes in the headlights and the big brown eyes of the doe. But then Nicolette gasps, and his reflexes kick in. He jerks the wheel to the right.
The tires lose grip momentarily, sending the Jeep into a slide. Damien feels the vehicle’s rear end slip. His right hand shoots out to brace Nicolette against her seat.
A surge of adrenaline fires inside him as the Jeep fishtails. But he steers into the skid with practiced ease, the way his father—the same complicated fucker who made his childhood so confusing—taught him to do on these same snowy roads.
The tires catch traction, and he countersteers again, bringing the vehicle back under control in a matter of seconds.
After they stop safely at the end of the ramp, it takes him another second to realize he’s got his whole arm pressed against Nicolette’s chest. He quickly removes it. “You okay?”
“Uh, yup,” she replies with a nervous laugh. “Nice driving.”
“Thanks.” He takes a breath. “Wasn’t really a close call, though. I actually paid that doe to do that so I could cop a feel.”
She barks out a shocked laugh, which makes him laugh, too. And then they’re both in hysterics, the kind that a harried moment can cause.
Eventually he remembers how to breathe, and another car winds down the ramp to stop behind them.
Looking both ways, as cautious as a granny, he pulls out onto the road to drive her home. The last few miles are uneventful. The only thing that’s odd is that the Overlands’ gate is standing open.
He pulls up the winding path to find the driveway mobbed with cars and the magnificent house positively blazing withlight. There are Christmas trees in every front-facing window and a giant wreath on the front door.
“Holy shit,” Nicolette breathes. “It’s like the North Pole threw up on the house. And whose cars are these? She must have invited half of Vermont.”
Not my half, thinks Damien. He spots a Land Rover, a BMW, a Mercedes, and a Porsche Cayenne.
“Hey, you want to come in?” she says suddenly.
He looks over at her, startled. He’s dying of curiosity, and he’d follow Nicolette anywhere.
For a moment, he allows himself to picture it. His hand on her back as they navigate the room. Her smile lit by candlelight and the glow of a Christmas tree. A shared glance when the music gets particularly awkward.
And then a kiss goodnight.
But a second later, reality creeps in. Her picky stepmom won’t be any nicer to Nicolette if she invites the taxi driver in his jeans and his North Face ski jacket to her party.
“I shouldn’t,” he whispers. “It’s a weekend at Christmastime. That’s, um, prime driving hours.”
“Oh,” Nicolette says. Then, with a jerk of anxiety, she peers at her watch. “Ohgeez! You should have said something! How many rides did you miss? We didn’t have to stop for pizza…”
“No, it’s fine,” he says quickly. “My idea, remember?”
But she’s already scrambling out of her seatbelt and opening the door. “Thanks for everything.”
He has to hurry out of the car to catch up with her as she fumbles for her luggage. He manages to lift the bags out, but before he has a chance to say anything, she’s tugging them up the walk toward the house.
“Happy Christmas, Damien,” she says from the porch.
“Take care,” he says, feeling helpless and all wrong. He watches her yank the rolling suitcase over the threshold. “Call me anytime.”
Should he have just said yes to coming in? But to what end?
