Merry Humbug Christmas (23 page)

“News flash. It’s much colder out there than it is in here.” He

tucked the flattened airbag behind the steering wheel and then

reached over the seat and grabbed her coat. “Put this on and button it up. I’ll be back soon.”

She took the coat but then yanked her door open and stepped

out into the falling snow to put it on.

“Reese, what are you—”

“Damian, he’s hurt,” she cried. “Look! The deer is just lying there

. . . looking at me.”

Damian popped the trunk and hurried out of the car to grab his

own wool coat. After sliding into it, he grabbed the scarf and gloves he’d stashed in the back. He latched the trunk and tugged on the

gloves and slipped the scarf around his neck as he rounded the back of the car. He found Reese crouched, peering down at the enormous deer lying on its side.

“Reese, back away from him.”

She did, and the buck wriggled a bit and whined, but Damian

thought it must be too injured to get back to its feet. He approached it, careful to maintain a safe distance from those sharp-looking antlers, and he squatted down to get a closer look. Its soulful brown eyes were as wide and round as saucers, and it made no move at all.

“I’m so sorry, buddy,” he reassured the buck in a soft, steady

voice. “I didn’t see you. You needed to wear some reflective gear when you left the missus tonight.”

The deer rocked his head, and Damian straightened with a lurch

and backed away slightly. Reese stood behind him with a grip on the back of his coat.

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“He’s scared,” she whispered. “Do you think there’s anything we

can do to help him? Without getting punctured, I mean.”

Before Damian could reply, the buck heaved. Reese squealed

and yanked Damian backward along with her until she pressed up

against the hood of the car. They watched the animal cautiously as it struggled to roll over and regain its footing. After a moment it hopped up and stared at them with tentative suspicion. The thing was huge, and Damian scanned the area at the side of the car, wondering how quickly they could get back inside if it decided to charge them in retribution. But the buck took a step backward, still eyeing them closely, and then it bolted away with a significant limp.

“It’s hurt.” Reese winced, burying her face in the back of

Damian’s shoulder and clutching his coat with both hands. “It’s really hurt, Damie.”

“I know,” he said, turning around and gathering her into his arms.

“But you’re not. And I’m grateful for that. Now get back into the car where you’re safe so I can get going before I freeze to death.”

Reese looked up at him and cringed. “It’s going to get a lot colder out here, but if you want to keep standing here and arguing, I’m all in.”

He groaned, knowing full well she could easily keep him engaged

in debate for an incalculable amount of time. “Get that hat you had on earlier.”

She shot him a triumphant grin and hurried back to the car and

grabbed her hat. Placing it on her head as she walked ahead of him, she cried, “Come on, slowpoke! What’s keeping you?”

Damian eyed those heels of hers as she trudged through the

snow. Shaking his head, he set out after her. “At least you have some gloves to put on.”

She reached into her coat pockets and pulled out the strange

mismatched mittens and gave them a disdainful look. “Put them on.”

“I can just keep my hands in my pockets,” she said, shoving them

deep past the mittens. “See?”

“Reese,” he said with a sigh. “Please put them on. Humor me,

will you?”

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She groaned, pulling them out again and tugging her hands into

them. “Look at this,” she said. “My suede boots are ruined from the snow, and now these stupid gloves. Your family will think you’re marrying some hobo from the circus.”

“I don’t think hobos work at the circus.”

“Oh, well, you know what I mean.”

Damian turned his head away so she wouldn’t see the smile on

his face as they plodded along.

“You’re afraid my family will look at you—a doctor with your

own practice—and think you’re . . . what? Too poor to afford some nice gloves?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped, rolling her arm at him. “I didn’t

really come from all that much, and your family has a vacation home near a ski resort. I guess I just feel . . .”

When her words trailed off, Damian smiled at her. “Less than?”

“Maybe. A little.”

“You are not less than anything or anyone I’ve ever known.”

She shushed him and tromped along. When she slipped and

squealed, he caught her just in time to keep her from landing on her face in the snow.

“My neck hurts,” she grumbled. “I think I have whiplash.”

“It’s a miracle we both walked away,” he said, supporting her

arm. “About those boots. If they’re ruined anyway, will you let me break off the heels so you can walk like a normal person?”

“Break off . . . ! Are you joking?”

“I am not.”

“Well, you should be. These boots cost over six hundred dollars,

Damian. I got them at half off.”

“Half. . . . They cost over a thousand bucks?”

“Honey, don’t say
buck
. I just see those big brown eyes looking up at me. Do you think he’s okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Anyway, the boots are
Louboutin
.” She said the name with such reverence that Damian almost expected to hear a choir of angels

singing overhead.

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“I don’t care if they’re Lou Ferrigno! A thousand bucks for a pair of boots?”

Glancing at him over her shoulder, she tossed him a sigh. “But

. . . don’t I look cute in them?”

“Not a thousand dollars cute.”

He suspected the minute those words left his throat he shouldn’t

have said them, but when Reese slid to a stop, planted her hands on her hips, and glared at him, he knew for sure.

“Oh, really!”

Shaking his head in surrender, Damian snagged her arm and

guided her forward. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken ill of your Lou Ferrigno boots.”

Finally, she sniffed. “All right then.”

“I’m just glad you have a successful practice of your own,” he

added. “No way I’m footing the bill for thousand-dollar boots.”

“I told you. I got them for six hundred.”

“Over six hundred,” he reminded her, suppressing the laugh that

wanted to pop out of his mouth.

“Have you always been like this?” she asked. “Or is this just what happens when you’re freezing to death? It’s good to know these

things before the wedding, I think.”

Damian chuckled and placed his arm around her shoulder. She

wrapped her arm around his waist, and the two of them plodded

along for several minutes without talking.

“Where did you get those horrible gloves, anyway?”

Reese giggled. “A couple of years ago, Joss and I went to Miami

on our non-Christmas trip. Well, they had a ridiculous and unex-

pected cold snap that caught us completely off guard. So we had to go shopping for warmer clothes. That’s where I bought this coat, as a matter of fact.”

“Don’t tell me. You got it for the bargain price of six grand.”

“Hush. Anyway, you’d be surprised at how hard it is to find

gloves in Miami, even at Christmas. Joss bought these for me as sort of a joke, and she tucked them into the pockets of my coat. When I Merry Humbug Christmas.indd 185

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grabbed it earlier today and saw the bulging pockets, I assumed they were my chenille gloves.”

“Well, they’re awful.”

“Yes, they are. But I think I can pull them off, don’t you?”

He laughed as she placed her hands over her bright red cheeks

and smiled at him.

“All right, Fashion Plate. Let’s pick up the pace, shall we? I can’t feel three of my toes.”

REESE DIDN’T REVEAL HER disappointment when they finally

reached the closed general store to find the pay phone that used to hang on the wall had been removed. Damian’s frazzled groan spoke

volumes for both of them.

Thrusting his fist against the side of the small building provoked a shout, and Reese wrapped her brightly gloved hands around his and rubbed it, planting kisses on his leather glove.

“Ooooh, no. That’s not going to help, Damie,” she cooed. “We

just need a different plan, that’s all.”

“You think?”

“Well, how far is it to the house from here?”

He removed his hand and shook it at his side. “Another mile.”

“So we walk another mile. We can do that, right?”

She smiled with hope until his stormy glare melted.

“We’re able-bodied, frozen people. We can walk one more mile.”

Reese worked hard to keep from letting on what a lie that was.

She didn’t feel able bodied at all. And the thought of walking another
few yards
was almost more than her frozen, aching feet could bear.

She glanced down at her Louboutin boots. The wet snow had

completely ruined the blue suede up past the ankle and darkened the calves in mortifying patches. She wished for a moment Damian had

pushed through in their argument, plunked her down on the hood

of the car, and broken off those detestable four-and-a-half-inch heels in spite of her best argument against it. Perhaps then she might have Merry Humbug Christmas.indd 186

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managed the grueling hike without losing the blood flow to both her feet.

Reese yanked off her hat and stuffed it under her arm, twisting

her hair as she observed Damian and awaited word on their next

move.

“Well,” he said at last. “It looks like there’s no alternative. Let’s get moving.”

Crushed, Reese nodded. She replaced her hat, stuffing her hair

up underneath it, and she tugged it down around her stinging cold ears.

“Alrightie,” she replied. It wasn’t the enthusiastic battle cry she’d tried to muster, but it would have to do. “Onward then.”

The late-night wind burned her face, and Reese’s eyes began to

water. She rubbed her nose with the back of her gloved hand, and a sharp pain elicited a wince.

“I think I have icicles hanging from my nose,” she muttered. “No

joke. My snot is frozen on my nose.”

“Here,” Damian said, removing the bright red cashmere scarf

from around his neck. He gently covered her mouth and nose before wrapping it loosely around the back of her neck. He planted a kiss on the scarf where her mouth should have been. She couldn’t be

entirely sure if he’d hit his target because her numb lips only felt the distant impression of his. “Breathe into it for a few minutes. It will warm you up.”

That familiar spicy scent of Damian soothed her as she pressed

the soft cashmere to her face and they resumed their arctic hike. A mile might as well have been ten to Reese, and every step in those boots brought about a greater resolve—one she knew full well she

would rescind at a later date—never to wear such high heels again.

Tennis shoes. That’s the way to go. Athletic, comfortable, sensible.

There, she’d done it. She’d gone too far.

Sensible shoes? When Santa-bearded-Claus brought them down

her chimney in person and placed them on her feet like Prince

Charming and Cinderella . . . then . . . then she would consider sensible shoes.

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“You’re doing it again,” Damian commented.

She blinked and shook her head. “Doing what?”

“Laughing. What’s so funny now?”

“Oh. Just . . . Santa Claus and sensible shoes.”

He shot her a look and shook his head. She suspected Damian

was about ready to stop trying to figure her out. Certain she would never know quite why, Reese paused and thanked God above that

Damian loved her in spite of herself.

“When I met you, you despised him,” he remarked. “Now you’re

thinking about what kind of shoes he wears.”

Amusement bubbled up inside of her, and Reese pressed

Damian’s scarf tightly to her nose as she laughed.

“I’m pretty sure his boots are flats,” he added. “You might think about that.”

“Oh, I’m thinking about it,” she assured him. “Now let’s cut the

chatter.”

Damian playfully yanked the scarf away from her face and pecked

the bridge of her frozen nose with a kiss before he replaced it.

“Sensible shoes,” he mused as he took her hand. “That’ll be the

day.”

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