Page 10 of Snowed in with My Pucking Ex
“You’re walking home?” I ask, about to offer to drop her off instead.
She doesn’t respond to my question, instead calling over her shoulder, “Bye, Sean Spruce.”
And somehow, I know it’s the answer to my unspoken offer. She wants to walk back to the farm, probably needing the time it’ll take for her to go over everything in her head before she’s back to her peppy self; she usually is around her parents. I admire her resilience; heck, I respect it a great deal, too. She has had stuff hitting her back-to-back, and it’d be enough to make a lesser person crumble, but not Winter. No, she’s determined to figure it all out, and I bet she does it while singing Christmas carols the entire way home.
I get to my truck a few minutes later and open up the back door, checking for my ratchet straps. I have the heavy-duty kind that can hold a ton of weight, so they should do the trick. As I climb behind the wheel, I press the start button and the engine fires to life, the heat instantly blaring on to warm the cab. Once my Bluetooth connects from my cell, I hit the number for the local mechanic shop. There’s only one of course, and it’s now run by a guy I graduated with. His father had owned it previously, and supposedly, his grandfather even before that.
“Hey man,” I greet as soon as he answers.
“Sean, good to hear from you. What’s up?”
“If I tow a friend’s car to the shop, can you put some snow chains on her tires for me? I don’t have her keys, so her alarm may be going off when I pull up.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, buddy, I can make that happen for you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll cover the cost, then maybe you can give her a call and ask her to pick it up? Or should I tow it to her place?”
He whistles lowly before saying, “Dang, you must have it pretty bad for this woman. I guess the real question is, whose car are you planning on towing to the shop?”
“Just a friend, but I can’t stand the thought of anything possibly happening to her if she attempts to drive in this weather. She’s too stubborn to take care of things herself, so I want her surprised.”
“Yeah, okay. I can do that for you, no problem. Do you want her to know it was you who brought the car in and footed the bill? I can drop it off for you.”
I think on it for a beat before saying, “No, let’s just call me a secret Santa.”
He laughs again. “You go it.”
“Thank you, see you later.” I hang up, mentally checking off the first thing on my own list. I may be surrounded by hyper-independent women around here, but it doesn’t mean I can’t quietly make sure they’re taken care of in the process.
Next up, I really do have to get to the Blizzards’ rink for some solo hockey practice. I have a game after Thanksgiving, and I need to be ready. After practice, I’ll work on getting Winter’s car out of the snow pile and slowly tow it into town. Tomorrow I’ll get started on ‘Operation Help Winter Get Through Christmas.’ If we become good friends again during the process, even better.
I swear she gets more beautiful each time I see her, and while I may’ve bowed out before where she’s concerned, it’s not something I’m willing to do twice.
I’m used to winning, and if that includes gaining Winter in the end, there’ll be no stopping me.
Chapter Seven
Winter
I’m adding the finishing touches to my hair when the Spruces arrive for Thanksgiving. I picked a festively plum-colored shift dress, along with a thin pair of sheer black tights with tiny velvet black dots all over them, and paired the look with a simple stack of understated silver bangles and my taupe booties. I also have on a long-chained silver necklace with the dark garnet stone pendant my mother gave me many years ago as a graduation gift. The stone is large, and the silver encasement has details all around, making it anything but understated, and I never take it off.
I lean in, glancing all over my face in the mirror, making sure the bits of makeup I put on earlier are still how I like them. I’m already pale, and the snow certainly won’t help my cause any. My lashes are wispy, better defined by a few coats of my Lash Blast mascara. They’ve grown longer naturally, from the organic castor oil I’ve been brushing them with nightly. I added a bit of taupe and plum eye shadow to my lid but kept it very light, along with a bit of lip stain, and then gloss on top. I’m looking polished but not in an overly done-up sort of way. I learned long ago not to wear blush on Thanksgiving because with all the food and then cheering on the football game, as well as the heat from the kitchen, I’ll be red enough as it is. Another curse of not having any sort of tan going for me right now.
Anyhow, I’m determined not to look like a complete hot mess this time around when Sean sees me again. I’d like it for once if I were the one with the upper hand and not falling all over myself in his presence. While I won’t hold my breath on that front, I’m hoping he’ll at least not see me and instantly think I’m a charity case who can’t get her life right.
On my way down the hallway, I pop into my parents’ bathroom, swiping a spritz of Mom’s perfume. It’s some sort of essential oil blend a lady from the next town over makes forher. Whatever it is, it has mint, coconut, and vanilla in it, and I’m kind of obsessed, wearing it whenever I forget my usual. I attempt to quietly make my way down the hallway, wanting to get the chance to scope out Sean before he sees me. Yesterday at the coffee shop really meant a lot to me. He didn’t have to be so kind and pay for my drinks after I spilled cappuccino all over him. Nor sit with me to make sure I was okay, let alone offer to help me with suggestions on what steps I should take.
I come to a stop, finding Sean and Calla just inside the doorway, removing their coats. I heard Mom and Dad greet them a moment ago, but now I quietly watch as they hang their coats on the designated hooks. Calla is beautiful as always in her own natural way. She has some dark bags under her eyes today, so she must’ve worked the night shift for a night or two this past week. The clinic where she and Mom work is small without a lot of staff, so if anyone needs to be admitted and they don’t end up going to Noelville instead, then some of the staff have to stay at the clinic overnight with the patient. Both Calla and Mom love their jobs, but I’ve also heard about how it can be hard at times when they’re being stretched too thinly.
Sean, however, appears to be in his prime. Even after a grueling practice on the ice, he claimed to have to attend yesterday, he somehow appears no worse for wear. His profession is a different story, though; those players can’t afford to practice and work tired, or else they could seriously injure themselves.
Today he’s wearing a hunter green sweater, the material thin enough so he doesn’t overheat, but still somehow smooth enough that it looks super soft to touch. He’s paired it with dark wash jeans that hug his thick thighs, making me wish I could get a peek from behind, too. The best part of the entire outfit is his tanHey Dude’she’s currently slipping off next to the door, revealing crisp white sock-clad feet. He had on a blackleather jacket that he’s already taken off, but I can easily imagine how amazing he looked in the full get-up when he first stepped inside.
“You can leave those on if you want,” I say, giving up my spot, knowing if I stay and stare any longer, it’ll be detrimental to my health in some way. I shouldn’t want to look at this guy, nor be in the same room as he is, yet it seems this trip home, I’m destined to run into him around every corner. I didn’t want to be nice to him, but after everything he’s done for me since I’ve arrived, he doesn’t deserve my cold shoulder. Now, if I can manage to keep my heart from hurting around him, or even worse, falling for his dashing self all over again, that’s the real test of my willpower. I hate admitting it, that he sorta broke my heart all those years ago, and it’s the real reason I was so upset about seeing him in the first place.
His brow jumps, eyes immediately finding me where I’m standing off to the side. “I left my boots at home so they wouldn’t get your mom’s floors muddy from the slush out there, but these managed to get some on them too.” He replies, obviously thinking I’m calling out his choice of footwear when I wasn’t trying to. He doesn’t have to look like a lumberjack or a professional hockey player every time I see him; being casual is definitely okay in my book. In fact, I prefer it to always feeling underdressed and frazzled in his presence.
Calla’s face lights up when she notices me. “Winter, how lovely to see you. My–oh–my, you look so beautiful today.”
