You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology (28 page)

“So,” she said with a clap of her hands. “Let’s figure out our bedding and get settled. It’s getting late.”

“Right.”

With some minor movements, he was able to get to his knees, and there was his nice butt again. It was dark, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t enough light to see—and to appreciate—what was there.

Zippers rasped, and Marc rustled through his luggage. Soft pieces of clothing hit Selina’s shoulder as he yanked them out. She pulled a couple of heavy coats, his emergency blanket, and ski pants to the middle seat. He collapsed back on his butt, his fist full of ski caps, scarves, and two pairs of gloves.

“There,” he said, triumphantly setting the rest of the warm clothing on the seat between them. He grabbed one of the ski coats and shoved his arms through it. “I hate to let any warm air out, but I need to pee. At least you’ll get privacy to change. Take whatever of the clothing you want. I’ll use the rest.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He nodded, then cold air rushed into the car and Marc stepped out. For the brief moment that the door was open, she heard nothing. The snow was already deep enough that it muffled even the sound of itself falling. There was no wind, no cars, no squawks of owls. Without Marc’s comforting presence to keep it at bay, the oppressive weight of desolation oozed down the sides of the car, inflating like a balloon into the empty space. Selina took a couple of deep breaths to remind herself that she was free, then focused on her task, sorting through the items Marc had pulled from the back.

She shucked her jeans in favor of a pair of too-big ski pants and put some ski socks over her own. His puffy down coat looked more comfortable to sleep in—and warmer—than her structured winter coat, so she put that on, completing the whole look with a University of Washington knit cap topped with a purple pom-pom and a pair of black mittens.

The door opened and Marc climbed back into the car, bringing another blast of cold air with him.

“My turn,” she said, reaching into her purse and grabbing a pack of tissues before she could think too much about how cold the air would be on her bare ass and how much she’d have to struggle with the layers to get her ass bare in the first place.

When she returned from outside, Marc had scrunched up some clothes into a softer duffel and set it on one end of the bench seat. She climbed in, and for a few seconds, they stared alternately at each other and at the narrow space of the seat. Then he shrugged and scooted around until he was lying on his side, his back against the back of the seats and arms open for her to spoon with him. Pushing down her competing hesitation and desire, she crawled next to him, fitting her butt against his crotch and her head so that his arm was under her neck. To seal the deal, she pulled the small blanket over them.

“Well.” His breath danced across the back of her neck as he whispered the word. His mouth must be right above her ear. Maybe if he pursed his lips and leaned a little forward, he could nibble on her ear.

She liked when men nibbled on her ear . . .

“This is tight, but it’s not too bad,” he said. “Think we can last the night?”

Between the awkward pillow and his arm, her neck was turned at a strange angle and she’d have the mother of all cricks in the morning. His legs were too long for the seat, and he’d compensated by draping one leg over her. She was completely cocooned in him.

Breathing deeply, she waited for the moment of panic to strike. The moment when she felt trapped, worried that he would take advantage of her, that she wouldn’t be able to escape or stop him. But the moment never came. Her breath slowed without her even trying to force it. She wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she was warm and safe, which was more than she’d felt in months.

“This will be great,” she said, closing her eyes. “Good night. And thank you.”

*

Marc woke up
with an erection. And not regular morning wood, either. His face was full of the floral smell of a woman’s hair and his arms were hugging a soft, curvy body. He was warm. Hot, even, which he hadn’t expected, but the ski clothing, blanket, seats, and Selina’s body were providing more than enough heat to combat the cold. Even his face, which was buried in Selina’s neck, was warm. He lifted his head to get her hair out of his nose before he sneezed and woke her.

Sunlight beamed in through the back windows, glinting off Selina’s pale hair. He propped himself up on his elbow so that he could get a look at her. Her face, which had been tight even when she was laughing, had relaxed in sleep. Her jaw was soft, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was snoring quietly.

She was so beautiful. He’d already liked the look of her when she was sour and serving him breakfast, but the pretty waitress was no comparison to the sleeping woman. This was what she was supposed to look like when she wasn’t worried about her physical safety, or money, or where she was going to sleep at night.

He noticed the moment she woke up because her eyelids fluttered. And then she stiffened. His erection hadn’t gotten any less prominent while he’d been admiring the way her lashes fell on her cheeks.

“You warm enough?” he asked, deciding that the best course of action was to pretend he wasn’t sporting a boner. He didn’t think she was actually afraid of him, but she was skittish and, from what she’d told him of her home life, she had good reason to be.

“Overly so.”

At least she wasn’t rushing to get away from him. And she wasn’t moving his top arm away, so he kept it—and the leg he had draped over her—right where they were.

“Sleep okay?”

Her mouth curved into a slight smile. “Yeah. Once I fell asleep, I slept like a rock.”

“It’s sunny,” he said stupidly. “The storm has passed.”

She laughed, blinking. “I can see that.”

Her stomach growled. “I wonder where the nearest coffee and donuts are. Where are we?”

“Still don’t know.” He shifted as well as he could, stretching his arm out in front of them. Scooting to straighten out his knees, he bumped her forward a bit. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I should move. I’m pretty sure my foot is asleep. Or it ran away in the middle of the night. One of the two. And I need to pee.”

“Right.” He held on to her until the count of ten, then opened his arms and she climbed to sitting up as best as she could.

The side of her face that had been resting on the duffel had a massive, deep wrinkle running across her cheek from her ear to the corner of her mouth. She had sleep in the corners of both eyes and a little mark of white drool that met up with the wrinkle. She looked like she had slept well, and he was sure he didn’t look much better. After a good night’s sleep his hair usually looked like loosened coils of brown yarn.

At least it distracted from the morning breath that had him wanting to smack his mouth.

She grabbed for her pack of tissues, then looked back at him, her hand on the door handle. “Um, it’s light out. Please don’t look.”

“I won’t. But do a little scoping while you’re out there, would ya? I want to make sure we’re still on the road and not snowed in. There’s a shovel in the back, though if you need to dig to find it, we’ll both be sorry.”

While she was outside, he had the chance to smack the staleness of sleep out his mouth in private and dig in his center console for some mints.

“It’s not so bad out there,” she said, climbing into the car. “It must have stopped snowing soon after we stopped. The tire tracks are easy to see, and we should be able to get out no problem.” She patted his leg. “From what I could tell, you even stayed on the road up until you pulled over.”

Her touch zinged up his body, rushing into his ears and tingling the tips of his fingers.

Fuck.
He’d promised her that the trip had no cost, that there were no expectations, and he’d meant it. He still meant it. He was a man, not a bull. But not thinking about what she would feel like if they were so close had been easier before she’d been curled up in his arms, before his erection, and before she’d touched his leg of her own accord.

They’d have to get double beds in each hotel room. He would have asked for them anyway, but now it was sleep in separate beds or he’d be on the floor. Or he’d have to pull the old fairy tale trick and sleep with a sword between them. He didn’t want her to wake up with an erection pressing against her again.

“Well good,” he said, plastering a wide, innocent smile on his face. “I figure we can drive for five hours or so, then see what’s interesting wherever we stop. In the meantime, it’s my turn for a trip to our expansive bathroom.”

Her smile was big, honest, and without hesitation. “It is certainly the largest bathroom I’ve ever used, and I do like the white.”

The sun was warming the air up fast and was almost blinding as it reflected off the snow. He took care of his business, inspected his path back onto the highway, then climbed into the driver’s seat and grabbed his phone to check his messages. The first one was from Curtis, assuring him again that they didn’t need to talk. He frowned.

The second message was from one of the guys in charge of the project that Marc’s baby had become. The e-mail had a veneer of politeness, but the words didn’t cover up the point the man was trying to make. In sum,
Leave us alone. We’re fine. You sold the project and declined further participation.

Or as Marc would put it,
Fuck off.

The e-mail from Curtis hurt worse than the dismissive e-mail from a stranger, though. Terry was
his
, as much as it was Curtis’s, and brushing him off was a real shit thing to do.

You gave Terry up before Curtis brushed you off.

He tossed his phone into the console and twisted the key in the starter. A small, petty part of him was grateful that he hadn’t bought one of those cars with the push-button starter; it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying. What he really needed was a motorcycle with no muffler to drown out the voice of reason.

“Something wrong?” Selina’s voice beside him was soft with concern.

“No,” he growled, then felt bad when she just blinked and said, “Okay,” in a small voice.

“Yes,” he said. The word came out in a huff, much like an upset, petulant dog’s would. He shifted in his seat so that he was talking to her face rather than the steering wheel. “I sold my app. It was my baby. Curtis and I worked on it for
years.
We did side programming jobs for money, but we spent all our spare time on this thing. No vacation. No sick days.”

He swiped his hand down his face, rubbing at the memories of being wrapped in a blanket, a bucket next to him on the floor, and a bottle of ginger ale on the desk next to his computer. He’d written the backbone of some beautiful code that day between bouts of being sick in the bucket.

She put her hand on his knee. Two touches, but he was too worked up to appreciate this one. “You mentioned that at the Chinese restaurant. I can’t imagine putting in that kind of work for anything. I don’t even know what coding is, really. I was really impressed. Still am.”

“But there’s more we can do,” he said, unable to keep the whine from his voice.

“A flaw?” she asked.

“Well,” he hedged, “not a flaw exactly. I mean, it’s not going to break. And it works. But it’s cumbersome. I’ve thought of a way to bypass the biggest issue standing between us and wider adoption of the product by the general public.”

And now that he’d figured it out, that fix was all he could think about.

“And you’ve told Curtis?”

He gestured to the phone. “Curtis and some other people. I haven’t told them what the fix is. I just want a meeting to talk with them about it.”

Her mouth twitched. “Do you miss working on the project?”

“Oh God, yes.” He banged the back of his head against the headrest. “Selling the project was exciting, and I learned all sorts of things about the business of computers. I thought I’d sell the program and be done with it. That having all this money and free time would be liberating.” The reality of his situation was as blinding as the sun off the snow. “But it’s not. It’s very boring.”

“Why don’t you work on something else?”

“Oh, I will.” He waved his hand. “I’ve got all sorts of ideas about things I want to do.”

He did. Or, at least, he had until he’d gotten in this stupid SUV and driven into the mountains to find himself like he was some kind of hippie rather than a nerd who used to retreat from the sun like a vampire.

“But first I’ve got to get this solution implemented. Then I can move on to something else.”

She bit her lip.

“What?” he asked. It looked like, if she wasn’t careful, she might choke on the words she was obviously holding back.

“I don’t know you very well . . .”

He raised an eyebrow. This was not the start of anything good. Like,
It’s not you, it’s me,
when it was really about the way you took your coffee black, or didn’t eat eggs, or didn’t like cats. “But . . . ?” he said, drawing out the word in invitation.

“Have you considered that you’re stuck on this old thing because you succeeded at it and it’s scary to start something new that might not be nearly such a success? Sophomore efforts and all that.”