“First of all, you can stop calling me ‘weather girl.’ I graduated with honors, I’ll have you know. You can just call me Mary. Second, yes, you can take me to that party. In fact, I’ll put it into your GPS right now.” Her hand searches the dash futilely.
I bite out, “Ain’t got GPS in here. The Snow Angel knows its way by memory anywhere you want to go in this county. And it doesn’t matter. There is no way I’m taking my weather girl to a blizzard party with a bunch of drunk, single people. No way.”
I navigate my way back toward town and hope she doesn't object too strongly.
Doesn’t matter if she does or not. She clearly doesn't know how to keep herself safe.
And that’s fine. I’ll be seeing to that from now on.
Chapter 6
Mary
I’m not entirely sure where he’s taking me, but then again, I’m not sure if we’re driving on an actual road. Or if this truck is still right side up or in the Upside Down World from Stranger Things.
My body heat is doing its thing now. Combined with the heat blasting from the vents in Bear Bailey’s truck cab. I take off my hood and my hat, unbuttoning and wiggling out of my overcoat. I comb out my snow- and sweat-damp hair with my fingers. I am a hot mess of melted snow and fruity-smelling hairspray.
While I do this, I think I hear a low, quiet growl coming from the driver seat.
I glance over and see that Bear has his eyes on the road. He looks normal, other than the fact that he’s yanking off his stocking cap and unzipping his coat.
His hair is also damp and his face is flushed.
"So what are you doing out here in this weather, just rescuing people out of the insane goodness of your heart?” I ask.
He says, “Got nothing else to do on a Christmas Eve. People are trying to get where they’re going. They might need help. I have the truck to help them.”
I bite my lip as I try not to let this warm my heart too much. It does anyway. “I bet your wife or girlfriend would disagree with that.”
I see Bear smirk. “No wife. No girlfriend. Nice interview technique you got there, though. You could have just asked if I was single, like I was about to ask you.”
Something invisible flutters with delight down deep between my legs. Bear’s interest in me is becoming clearer. All the logical parts of me tell me he could be a creep. But somehow, I know he’s not.
“I find it hard to believe you’re single,” I say, regretting it as soon as it’s out of my mouth. I instantly feel ashamed about being too forward.
But Bear doesn’t react other than to glance over at me and show that little dimple again. His sandy, stubbly chin looks as sweet as a Christmas cookie. One I’d really like to take a nibble out of.
We are flirting now, aren’t we? This is outright, blatant flirting. I haven’t done this in earnest in…well I don’t know if I've ever blatantly flirted with a man. Boys? Yes. Men? Never.
I’m 26 and in the middle of an upward career climb, which doesn’t give me much time to date.
Bear, however, is clearly good at this.
“Oh, I see. You’re a player, is that it? I should have guessed,” I say.
I’m only half joking. But his face turns dark.
“Not at all,” he says.
“Are you kidding? Look at you! You must have girls lined up around the block waiting to go out with you.”
He slows the truck to a crawl and looks me straight in the face. “You like the way I look?”
I bite my lip. “It's not entirely unpleasant.”
He laughs. “Glad to know that.”
I persist. “So tell me how it’s possible you’re not attached. Some chick do you wrong?”