Cross Country Christmas: A Woodfalls Girls Novella Page 5

  I threw one last wistful look at the car that was already covered by a thin layer of snow. Pretty soon it would match the cover on the ground, which was up to my ankles. At first, I was okay walking along. It was kind of nice to have the snow floating down around us. Even as cold as I was at first, after twenty minutes of brisk walking while trying not to slip, I had warmed up and was tempted to take off my jacket. Once the wind kicked up, it was a different story. Neither Grant nor I talked as we trudged forward with the swirling snow whipping into our faces. Grant stuck close to me, lending a hand when the soles of my boots caused me to slip.

  Forty minutes into our journey, I finally broke the silence. "So, what do you do for a living now?" I asked, huffing slightly in the brisk air. I had been dying to know what he had been up to since I left Woodfalls. I was just always too afraid to ask. He may think I'm crazy for asking now, but it was a way to pass the time.

  "I took over for my dad at the lumber yard. He still comes in every day, but he basically turned over the day-to-day responsibilities to me when I graduated," Grant answered, not sounding nearly as winded as I was.

  "Wow, that's great. I was afraid after the fires in '09 the plant was going to have to close," I admitted. My father had kept me abreast on what was going on while I was away at college. It was all he could talk about every time I called home. He was worried and rightfully so. He had been the shift manager at the plant for twenty years. The lumberyard was his life. He wasn't the only one. Half the population in Woodfalls had ties to the plant in one capacity or another.

  "That was a tough year, but I helped out whenever I wasn't in class. There was some rebuilding that needed to be done, but everyone really pulled together," Grant said.

  "That's Woodfalls," I said nostalgically. "Whisper Hollow kind of reminds me of Woodfalls," I added. He nodded his head in agreement and I felt a wave of homesickness. In the four and half years I'd been gone, I had only returned for short stints, mostly around the holidays. It was the seasons I missed the most. Like the fall when the leaves changed colors in September and early October. The landscape would be a painter's canvas of yellow, red and orange. Spring was equally enchanting as new life bloomed in the plants that had been dormant all winter.

  "Sounds like you miss it," he said, looking at me with surprise.

  "Of course I miss it," I said halting. "Woodfalls is my home."

  He also stopped. "You could have fooled me. You hightailed it out of there almost the moment we graduated and never looked back," he added, sounding aggravated, although I couldn't imagine why. His steps were longer than before, as if he was trying to outdistance his sudden annoyance with me.

  "I had things I needed to do," I stated, stalking after him as my own anger rose. What was it to him that I had been gone for a while? It's not like we were friends or anything before I left. My own aggravation made me forget to watch my step on the uneven snow-covered path. I was practically running to keep up with him when my right foot stepped into a hole that was covered in snow. My ankle buckled and the forward momentum carried me to a heap on the ground with a cry of pain. The throbbing in my ankle outweighed the fact that I had fallen in front of Grant again. I chanted a few words that would have made a sailor blush as I extracted my foot from the booby trap it had stepped in.

  Without hesitation, Grant dropped the bag he was carrying so he could kneel in front of me. "Are you okay?" he asked me for the third time in two days as he wiped away a tear that rolled down my cheek.

  "I'm not sure," I answered, pulling my pant leg up to inspect the damage. My boot was covering my throbbing ankle. I made a move to take it off, but Grant stopped me.

  "You better keep it on. If your ankle is swelling you might not be able to get it back on," he said, looking worried.

  "How much farther you think?" I asked, squinting in the snow that was falling more rapidly.

  "Two miles, give or take," he said, reaching a hand out to help me up. Grasping my hand tightly, he helped me to my feet. The instant I put weight on my leg it bucked and I bit back another cry of pain.

  "Mother sucking of all bad luck," I grunted, hobbling on my one good foot.

  Grant looked back the way we had just come and then back to the way we still needed to go. Go figure. Only I would hurt my ankle at exactly the halfway point.

  "We have to keep going. It's okay. I'm going to help you," he said, effortlessly scooping me up into his arms.

  "Wait, you can't carry me," I squirmed.

  "Well, I don't want to freeze my ass off out here, and this is probably faster than helping you limp the rest of the way," he said, adjusting me snugly against his chest. His rock-hard chest I might add. "I'm going to have to leave the bag. I'll have to get it later," he said, striding toward town.

  I cradled my purse in my arms, feeling guilty that he was supporting my weight along with our stuff, but we had no choice. Our phones and my computer would never make it covered in snow. My throbbing ankle continued to make its presence known, but I wasn't going to lie, his arms felt absolutely dreamy wrapped around me. Without giving any conscious thought to it, I snuggled closer. He responded by tightening his arms more securely. It had been longer than I would care to admit since I had been held intimately like this. My last relationship was a disaster to say the least. We fizzled out quickly when I realized the guy I had been dating basically lied to me about everything from his job, where he went to school, where he lived. Turns out he had dropped out of college and was still living at home while he worked odd jobs. I'm still not convinced he had given me his real name. Thankfully, it had only taken me a few dates to see through his load of crap. I'd like to say my other ventures in the dating world had been more successful, but between Dan the Forever Crotch Grabber and Steve the Perpetual Xbox Gamer, my dating endeavors hadn't been very successful. Long-term relationships never seemed to be in my grasp. I felt like Taylor Swift. Minus all the money, of course.

  "Are you still seeing Amanda?" I asked impulsively. The moment the words left my mouth I wished I could have retracted them. Did I really want to know about Amanda at this moment?

  "Amanda?" he asked, puzzled. "No, we broke up right after you left."

  My pulse felt like it galloped at his words.

  "She married Stan last year."

  "Oh, wow. I thought you guys were serious," I said, trying not to sound as excited as I felt. His words gave me permission to not feel so guilty for enjoying the way it felt to be held in his arms. The heady scent of his cologne swirled around me. I remembered the smell acutely. All through senior year, this had been his scent choice. Thanks to Ms. Garrison's statistics class and her insistence that we sit in alphabetical order, I had to sit behind Grant the entire year smelling it. Memories from back then flooded my mind and I fought the temptation to bury my face in his neck.

  I felt him shrug before he answered. "She wanted things I couldn't give her," he answered.

  Great, he had a commitment phobia. "I'm sure she would have waited until you were ready."

  "I was never going to be ready," he answered.

  Gah, commitment-phobe to the max. All my hopeful feelings from a few seconds ago deflated like a balloon. I wasn't looking for a guy who strings a girl along for four years and then drops her like a hot potato when she wants something more. I get the whole waiting thing, but you had to give a person something. For the first time, I actually felt bad for Amanda. Maybe I had dodged the bullet since Grant was never interested in me.

  "I got it. You're a perpetual playboy," I finally analyzed, looking at the falling snow in front of us.

  "Playboy? You grew up in Woodfalls, right? I'm not sure there are enough women there to be considered a playboy," he chuckled. "Besides, Fran would have my head," he added.

  "How is Fran?" I asked, momentarily distracted. I had fond memories of the woman who owned the small store back home. Where most towns had fast food restaurants where all the teenagers hung out, we had Fran's. She had always welcomed us in no matter how loud
we were. She made sure to have our favorite snacks on hand and allowed us to claim the front porch of the store as long as we didn't disrupt the customers coming in and out. The best thing about Fran was that she was never too busy to listen to any of us. I loved my cousin Tressa and we had been close growing up, but once I hit high school, the two-year gap between our ages made it hard for me to talk to her at times. Fran was the only one in Woodfalls who knew about my feelings for Grant. She was my shoulder to cry on, dishing out tissues and advice at the same time. Eventually, I stopped focusing of Grant and told her about my desire to leave Woodfalls so I could meet Mr. Right. Fran was never crazy about the idea and made it her goal to find me the perfect guy in Woodfalls. For months after, I would arrive at her store to find a different guy from school who Fran had somehow convinced to help her with some project she had fabricated. Her plan never worked, but she deserved an A for the effort.

  "She's the same. Causing havoc and flirting with all the men in town her age and some who aren't her age. Of course, she's set her sights on Tressa's friend's dad."

  "What? Brittni's dad came back?" I asked, completely floored.

  "No, not Brittni. Her friend Ashton."

  "Ashton? Why don't I remember her in school?"

  "You wouldn't. Tressa met Ashton when she was in Woodfalls a couple summers ago. She came back last summer to get married over on the James property."

  "Wow, I guess I've missed a lot," I mused, turning my face back around to look at him. I was startled to see he was looking down at me intently. "What?" I asked self-consciously.

  "You have something on your nose."

  "Oh," I flushed, turning my face away from his. I ran my hand over my nose, completely embarrassed.

  "It was just a snowflake," he said, chuckling.

  "Creep," I muttered, swatting at his arm.

  "So, you plan on returning to Woodfalls anytime soon? I mean, for other than the holidays?" he asked, adjusting me in his arms.

  "Not with the rate I'm going," I muttered, keeping my face averted from his.

  He started to answer until we both heard a vehicle approaching in the distance. Grant gently stood me up and we waved our arms to get the driver's attention.

  Chapter 7

  A pickup truck much like June had suggested we needed slowed to a stop on the side of the road. "You folks need some help?" the driver asked after opening his door.

  "Yes, sir," Grant answered, walking toward him.

  The large burly bear of a man stepped from the truck. He stood easily at six and a half feet tall. Grant was tall, and even he looked miniature next to this stranger. The nickname "Refrigerator" would have suited him well. Dressed in a flannel shirt that was rolled up to reveal massive forearms, he looked like a lumberjack, or in my mind, a serial killer.

  "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked under my breath. "He might be some crazy mountain-man killer."

  "Nah, he has to be cool. He has a Pittsburg Steelers flag in his back window."

  "Even more reason not to trust him. Everyone knows the only people you can trust are Bills fans."

  "You know football?" Grant asked.

  "Um, hello? I was born in Woodfalls," I joked. Football and Woodfalls came as a package. With not a whole lot else to get excited about in a town the size of Woodfalls, football was practically a religion. To say you didn't like football was pretty much sacrilegious, and were considered fighting words. Fridays were spent traveling to high school games since our school didn't have a home field. Saturdays we watched college ball, and Sundays, of course were all about the Buffalo Bills. Even after almost five years away from Woodfalls, football was still in my blood.

  "I'm Tim," the stranger introduced himself. "My wife, June, thought you folks might need a hand. She said you had it in your heads to drive some Barbie car in this storm," Tim said, opening the passenger door so Grant could set me down on the seat. My misgivings were put to rest. Of course June sent him out to check on us.

  "Barbie car. Ha, that's not far off," Grant laughed, sliding in beside me. I sighed with pleasure at the warm air coming from the vents.

  "How long you folks been walking?"

  "Just over an hour. I think our car is about three miles up. We slid off the road. Then poor Jamie here stepped in a hole. I'm not sure if she broke her ankle or just sprained it, but we had to leave the bag I was carrying. I'd sure appreciate it if you would let me collect it."

  "Not a problem at all. We'll also check on your car."

  "That would be wonderful," I said. It would be great to have a change of clothing. I pulled my gloves off so I could hold my hands in front of the vents. I had been so preoccupied in Grant's arms I didn't realize how cold I was.

  It took Tim less than two minutes to spot our bag on the side of the road where we had left it. Grant jumped from the vehicle to retrieve it. He brushed off the snow and handed it me to hold on my lap with my purse. When he climbed back into the truck, he was careful not to bump my ankle, which had started throbbing now that it was no longer elevated over his arm.

  "Our car should be pretty close from here," Grant said, closing his door hard.

  "How's your ankle feel, missy," Tim asked, shifting the truck from first to second gear.

  "I'm not sure to tell you the truth, but I know it hurts," I admitted, grimacing.

  "I'll bet. Don't worry. Doc Jones will get you fixed up."

  Grant and I both burst out laughing. Tim shot us a look like we'd lost our minds.

  "Sorry," I said between giggles. "We have a Doc Jones in the town we grew up in. We were just saying how much Whisper Hollow reminds us of home."

  "I'll be darned. Small town, huh? Nothing wrong with that," Tim said like we had just declared we were all members of the same secret society. "Would you look at that. She was right. I think my grandkids have remote control cars bigger than that," Tim stated, pulling onto the shoulder of the highway. I was surprised to see our car covered with a blanket of snow that easily was six inches deep. I had no idea the snow had been coming down that hard while we were walking.

  "Yeah, it definitely wasn't our first choice, but it was all they had at the airport," Grant replied, climbing from the vehicle. He took the plastic bag with him, saying he would grab the rest of my stuff. I blushed slightly thinking about him seeing the bras and panties I had tried to hide between my sweaters. Hopefully he would leave everything folded and just add it to the bag.

  The guys made quick work of grabbing the rest of our things, but by the time Tim turned the truck around, Mother Nature had kicked it up a notch. We were in an all-out blizzard. Even with chains on the tires, Tim had to grip the steering wheel and reduce our speed to a near crawl. We all remained silent so Tim could concentrate on the treacherous conditions. When we finally turned off the highway and drove into the Whisper Hollow town limits, we couldn't have been any more relieved.

  "We don't have a hotel here, but our niece runs a real nice bed and breakfast," Tim said, turning down a road a half mile off the exit. The town of Whisper Hollow came into view and the homesickness I had been feeling for Woodfalls returned again. I had fought my mom this year on coming home for Christmas, but at the moment I would do anything to be driving down Main Street in Woodfalls, surrounded by friends and family who all loved me. Instead, I was stuck several states away in a strange town with the last person I would have ever expected to be stranded with.

  Whisper Hollow looked to be half the size of Woodfalls, although I'm sure they had their areas that stretched beyond the little town we were driving through. With the blanket of snow covering it, the town resembled something you would see on a Christmas card. Especially since everything was completely decked out for Christmas like the diner had been.

  "I'll drop you off here at the B&B first and then send Doc your way," Tim said, pulling behind a large Victorian house with long sweeping porches on the first and second floors. A huge Christmas wreath hung from the highest eve of the house while lighted garland draped the porc
h railings on both levels.

  "Thank you so much. We can't thank you enough," I said to Tim.

  "I'm happy to help, darling. Let's get you two inside."

  "This is beautiful. Magical," I breathed as Grant opened the truck door and swept me back up into his arms. My eyes met his only to see he was studying me the way he had earlier when he told me I had a snowflake on my nose. I waited for a teasing comment or for him to make some joke since that was his norm, but he did neither. His eyes moved to my lips. Unconsciously, I dragged my bottom lip between my teeth, not wanting to admit how long I had dreamed about what his lips would feel like on mine. I shouldn't want them. He had all but declared that serious relationships weren't for him. Maybe something casual could work. Just this once.

  Tim interrupted the moment when he rounded the vehicle carrying our bags. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. With me tucked into his arms, Grant trailed behind Tim as they climbed the four shallow steps to the front porch.

  A bell chimed above the front door as Tim pushed it open. The foyer opened up to reveal a large grand staircase that greeted us as we stepped into the warm space that smelled like cinnamon and sugar cookies.

  "Uncle Tim, what are you doing out in a storm like this?" a plump, pleasant-looking woman who looked to be in her early thirties asked, stepping into the foyer.

  "Hey, Mags. These kind folks here ran into some trouble with the storm. Do you have any rooms available? I know you have that crew here from Georgia who come every year, but I thought maybe you could squeeze 'em in," Tim said, sliding his arms around his niece's shoulder. "Grant and Jamie, this is my niece, Maggie. Or Mags to those of us who watched her grow up from being a peanut. Maggie, this is Grant and Jamie." He finished the introductions with a nod in our direction.