Tic-Tac-Mistletoe - N.R. Walker Page 0,10
as pretty as you’ll ever see, but I don’t know about a handsome stranger.”
“No, believe me. Every Hallmark movie has one.”
He sighed. “Never really was a fan of those movies, to be honest.”
“Neither. Christmas in winter is odd to me.”
“Ah.” His face lit up. “So this will be your first white Christmas.”
“Well, yeah. If I ever get to my sister’s place.” Then I looked out the window. “I always thought there was something magical about snow, but now I’ve actually seen it, I’m not so sure.”
“There is,” Ren said. “Something magical about it. The first snow of the season is always special. And the last. It means spring is around the corner.”
I couldn’t fight the yawn that had been trying to escape. “Sorry. I’m knackered.”
He took pity on me. “How about we take your bags to the spare room. Have a shower and I’ll see if I can get the old CB radio working. I’ll put a call into McGee’s. He’s the local mechanic and tow truck driver for your car. And I can see if Ronny can get a message to your sister.”
“Ronny?”
“Oh, he’s the local sheriff, sorry.” Ren walked to my bags still by the front door. “Here, I’ll help you carry these.”
There was water on the floor from my luggage. “Shit, I didn’t realise they were that wet from the snow.” I grabbed a tea towel from the kitchen counter. “I’ll just mop that up.”
“Don’t worry too much. I can get that. Most of it’s probably from my boots anyway.”
I dabbed the puddles anyway, desperately trying not to make a wet spot joke. My brain lacked a filter on a good day, especially when I was tired, but it was all but absent if I was jet-lagged. “There, all dried,” I said, rubbing the towel over the luggage as well. I stood up, not realising just how close I was to him. I folded the sodden tea towel, making a face at the squelch and dripping water. “‘No, no. Ew, David,’” I said, running it back to the sink.
Ren laughed, and when I turned back to look at him, he was still smiling. “Schitt’s Creek fan?”
I grinned at him. “Love it.”
“Same.” He stared at me, just smiling and not speaking. Until he seemed to realise and made a point of picking up one suitcase. “Right, okay. Spare room.”
“One of them has a wonky wheel. It broke today,” I said, quickly collecting the other suitcase and my backpack. “When I was trying to not have a meltdown in the middle of the wrong airport in the wrong state at the wrong car rental kiosk.”
His smile softened. “You’ve had a day, haven’t you?”
“I sure have. But it’s gotten considerably brighter, I have to say. Thank you, again, for putting me up for the night. I really do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He led the way down a short hall and opened a door. He flicked on the light switch and put the suitcase down by the foot of the bed. The room was rustic and cute. There was a double bed with a green quilted cover, a chest of drawers, and framed vintage pictures of trout on the wall. It was very country, very male, and very lovely.
“This is great, thanks,” I said, not realising he’d gone.
He appeared just a second later with two folded towels. “Yeah, it’s . . . uh . . . I saw pictures in a fancy magazine of a country cabin all done up and fancy. I copied it.” He shrugged. “Well, kind of. But I like how it turned out.”
I smiled at his honesty. “You know, when interior decorators do that, it’s not called copying. They call it using it as ‘inspiration,’” I said, using finger quotes.
He chuckled. “Well, they inspired all three bedrooms.” He rocked back on his heels as if he was nervous for some reason. “It’s a bit cold in here right now but it’ll warm up with the door open. I’ll go and check the old CB radio before it gets too late. Bathroom’s across the hall.”
He disappeared and I stood there, feeling weird, if I was being honest. I was not where I was supposed to be; I’d had a spectacularly long and shitty day. I was in some random stranger’s house, in a strange country. Yet I felt welcome and like I was no bother at all. Kind of like being lost and overwhelmed but being safe and relaxed at the same time. And that was weird.
Maybe I