Christmas With You

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Considering the looming storm, she should probably also think about settling somewhere for the night. Not only did she hate driving in the snow, she wasn’t used to it and didn’t have the vehicle or the tires for it.

  Regina turned down Main Street, heading toward the lights of the town, which appeared to be even tinier than she’d expected. “Does this place have a hotel?”

  “The Snowflake Inn’s on the other side of town and is usually pretty booked,” Gabe said, “but there’s a nice B and B nearby called the Cozy Cottage, and I’m sure they have an open room or two.”

  All she needed was a bed. “Sounds perfect.” Tomorrow she’d make a different plan, a new sensation for someone who lived and died by them. “If you need a room, I could—”

  “Thank you, Regina, but you’ve done enough for me. In fact, if you’ll just drop me off up here, that’d be great.”

  Gabe’s steady presence had been comforting, and it was odd how sad she was they had to part ways already. She could tell a good soul when she met one, and in spite of her misguided choice of groom, she still believed her gut instincts were good.

  Once she’d stopped the car, Gabe gathered his stuff and flashed her a warm smile. “You should stop by Grumpy’s Bar and Grill a few blocks down. The food’s amazing, and trust me, you won’t be sorry.”

  “Grumpy’s in Friendship?”

  “Yeah, the owner has quite the sense of humor. But don’t let that scare you. Best food in town.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t tell Fern I said that.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Regina said with a laugh. Especially since she didn’t know Fern and doubted she’d come across her in her short stay here. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, though, making its vote known. Striding inside a restaurant in a wedding dress was a special kind of crazy, but it was like her brain couldn’t even entertain the thought of stopping and changing first. Not that she had anything besides clothes meant for the tropics anyway. “Nice meeting you, and good luck with everything. And happy holidays.”

  Was that stupid? His holidays might not be happy, and she wanted to make them better, even if she didn’t know how.

  “Happy holidays,” he said, and then he closed the door and she was alone again. Just her and her wedding dress and her decked-out car that looked like Cupid threw up on it.

  It’d been a long day, and Emmett wanted to kick back and relax with a late dinner at Grumpy’s. As sheriff of Friendship, he was never truly off work, but at least his job in this sleepy town mostly involved giving gentle reminders to abide by the rules and arbitrating minor disputes.

  Of course, a few citizens remained sore at him when he didn’t automatically pick their side. More than once he’d been told, “But you’ve known me for decades/most of my life/since high school!” Today was one of those days, and Fern Simpson didn’t seem to care he’d known the other party for equally as long—both citizens had a decade or two on him, so he’d known them pretty much since birth.

  As if having the town’s B&B owner mad at him wasn’t enough, Fern’s daughter had jumped in to defend her mom’s side of the debate, so now he had two females irritated with him. Fern had also been nice enough to remark that he was always in a sour mood these days. He couldn’t exactly deny it, though he also couldn’t pinpoint why.

  As he entered Grumpy’s, he heard a blend of voices yelling “cheers,” and within seconds, he sensed the vibe was different somehow.

  And that was before he noticed the woman in the wedding dress seated among the regulars. All he could make out from here was dark hair and a whole lot of white fabric. The bartender’s gaze met Emmett’s over the top of her head, and he gestured him over.

  Three seconds in, and something tells me there’ll be no relaxing dinner in my future.

  “I think it’s time to cut her off,” Grumpy sternly said when one of the guys requested that he pour her another shot.

  A drunken disorderly bride. That was a new one. Emmett racked his brain for who was getting married, but he didn’t recall any upcoming weddings, and those types of celebrations usually involved the entire town—whether or not the bride and groom technically invited them.

  The woman rocked on her stool and then gripped the bar. “Thass prob-ly a good idea. I … Where’d my fries go? Didn’t I have fries?”

  All he’d wanted was a burger and a few minutes of quiet before he went home and crawled into bed. Emmett raked a hand through his hair and moved closer to the rowdy group. “You heard him. Let’s give her a little breathing room and get her some water. Has she had food?”

  “Jeez. Someone’s a party pooper.” She giggled and wobbled again. She remained facing forward as she focused on regaining her balance, and while he hadn’t gotten a good look at her yet, he didn’t recognize her. “But have no fear, I’ve had all the things. These guys made sure I was taken care of and had lots of drinks to choose from.”

  He scowled at the men lining the bar. “You guys bought her drinks? How many did you think she needed?” If he didn’t know the crowd so well, he’d be angry, assuming they were trying to get her drunk, but since these were guys he’d grown up with, he leashed his anger, hoping he wouldn’t have to let it out once he got the full story.

  Guilt bled into their features, and Jack spoke up. “Some jerk left her at the altar, and we took it upon ourselves to welcome her to town and to help cheer her up.”

  “We didn’t know she was a lightweight,” Corbin added.

  She smacked her palm on the bar. “See? I can be fun!”

  “Well, I can’t,” Emmett muttered. He put his hand on her arm and slowly spun her around so he could assess just how drunk she was.

  Her gaze moved to the handcuffs on his belt, and her eyes widened. “Are you gonna arrest me?” She tipped her face up to him, and he got caught up staring at her delicate features and big blue eyes, and man, she was pretty. He had the urge to cup her cheek and assure her everything would be okay, and then he wondered what had gotten into him and tried to shake off the surge of attraction—the woman had just been left at the altar. She was wearing a wedding dress, for goodness’ sake.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Perfect. Might as well end this crappy day in jail.”

  She attempted to stand. One of the legs of the stool pinned her skirt to the floor, so she tugged at the material. It came free, and she stumbled right into him. “Oof!” She braced her hands against his chest to steady herself. Then she turned her arms over, extending her wrists and accepting her fate—like he’d really cuff her. He only handcuffed belligerent offenders, and that was usually for their own good.

  Emmett frowned down at her, telling himself to stifle the spark that ignited deep in his gut. “I’m not going to arrest you. I’ll take your car keys though.”

  Her mouth dropped, and judging by the offense in her features, maybe he’d underestimated her ability to get belligerent. “I’d never drive like this! I can’t believe you’d think I’d drive while under the influence, something I hardly ever am, by the way.”

  Funny enough, this was the second time he’d been accused of believing bad things about someone today, but at least he’d actually known the other party. “Not something I’d know, ma’am.”

  She scowled and flopped back onto the stool. “Well, now you do. Plus, I’m not sure where my purse is anyway, and my keys are somewhere in there, and …” Her eyebrows drew together, and she rubbed her forehead. Evidently it didn’t help, because she dropped her head on the bar and groaned. “I’m supposed to be on my way to Jamaica. Nice, warm Jamaica.”

  “You must’ve taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque,” he said, because his grandparents had raised him on Bugs Bunny cartoons and it’d just sort of popped out.

  Sputtered laughter shook the brunette’s shoulders. “So that’s where I went wrong.”

  Emmett exhaled and gestured for Corbin to move off the stool next to her so he could occupy it. “Look …”

  “Regina,” she supplied, her forehe
ad still on the bar, which couldn’t be comfortable, although it didn’t seem to bother her.

  “Regina. I’m Sheriff Haywood.”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’m just going to call you Sheriff Party Pooper.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Not really okay with me.”

  She twisted her head and blinked at him, her cheek on one of those cardboard coasters Grumpy handed out but nobody used. “Not really surprised.”

  He fought back a smile. There was something about her underneath the layers of sadness and alcohol, and there he went, having the urge to touch her again—cheek, shoulder, a comforting hand to her back. He wasn’t picky.

  Focus, Haywood. “As I was saying, I’m glad to hear you wouldn’t drive under the influence.” Most people needed reminders about the laws now and then, especially in this town where they thought the small size and the fact that they’d known him forever left certain laws open to interpretation. “I’m happy to give you a ride to wherever you’re staying tonight.”

  “I haven’t checked to see if they have a room for me, but I was told to go to the Cozy Cottage.”

  Since the lady who owned the Cozy Cottage was one-half of the pissed-off party, Emmett also knew that she and her daughter had left town for the night, and that meant there was no getting her checked in right now. Add in the burst pipe that had shut off access to at least one or two of the spare rooms, and they were up a creek.

  Maybe water’s a too-accurate analogy. The town plumber wouldn’t drop everything to fix the pipe since he had other jobs scheduled, and that was when Emmett had been called in. A few of the local boys had at least slowed the leak, but pipes needed to be purchased from the next city over, and Fern was hopping mad the plumber wouldn’t bump her to the top of his list.

  Fern had insisted that, with the Snowflake Inn booked, it was important she have spare rooms, and Emmett had inwardly rolled his eyes that she thought anyone would unexpectedly enter their tiny town and suddenly need a room. At one point it’d even been suggested that he drive to get the pipes, like he could simply abandon his post. Now he got to be the one to tell the woman across from him that there was no room at the inn. A little too ironic considering the time of year.

  “The Cozy Cottage had to close for the night, but I’m sure we can find you a place to stay.”

  “How far’s the next town? I can’t drive, but maybe if I get a taxi?”

  “It’s a good hour’s drive from here. Not to mention it’s snowing pretty hard now.” He glanced at the guys who’d been so helpful at plying her with alcohol. “Jack? Don’t you guys have a spare room?”

  His eyes flew wide. “My wife would kill me if I brought home a pretty girl I met at the bar, no matter what the explanation. I just got my bar privileges back, at that.” He glanced at her. “Sorry, Regina.”

  She swiped a hand through the air, the don’t-worry-about-it in the gesture clear.

  Emmett turned to Corbin.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I got more kids than beds, and the dogs occupy the couch.”

  The other guy down the bar was married to Fern’s daughter, so Emmett couldn’t exactly ask them to do him a favor.

  More head shakes all around, and he noticed that Grumpy had backed away before he could even ask. Great. He’d just promised not to arrest her, and not that he would, but he could hardly cart her to the jail to sleep on an uncomfortable bed in her wedding dress. Obviously, she’d had a hard enough day.

  Taking her to his house? The words bad idea flashed through his head. Not only because he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was and forgetting that he needed to remain professional, but also because she shouldn’t go home with a perfect stranger who lived alone. He knew she’d be safe, but she was drunk, her judgment impaired, and he wouldn’t put her in that situation. In fact, if she accepted an offer like that, he’d have to lecture her about reckless decisions.

  There was only one option, as he saw it. He only hoped it didn’t mean more of Friendship’s female citizens being upset with him.

  “I have an idea. I’ve just gotta make a call …”

  Chapter Two

  Regina’s first thought upon entering the bar and grill earlier, only to have everyone stare at her, had been to run for the second time that day.

  But then someone had shouted, “Hon, you look like you could use a drink!” And every time her smile had faltered, both during and after the retelling of her failed nuptials, the guys called for another shot, and she might’ve gotten carried away.

  Mr. Hottie Police Officer placed his hand on her lower back as he guided her out of Grumpy’s but then quickly jerked it away. Apparently, she was the only one feeling the attraction vibes. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Given the dirty blond hair, kept short, the shaven face, the deep brown eyes, and the way he carried himself—almost as if he owned this town—she’d be attracted sober or drunk or any stage in between. But hello, she’d just gotten out of a relationship—understatement—and he was so dang serious. Which was something she’d been accused of being more times than she could count.

  Can’t you just relax and have a little fun? Steve had asked after dinner a couple of weeks ago.

  I’ll relax after the wedding, she’d said, the way she often put off her relaxation until the next thing was done, and then the next thing, until she couldn’t remember the last time she’d relaxed. About thirty or so minutes ago was rather blissful, but reality was knocking at the door now, and as hard as she pushed against the other side, it’d come busting in soon enough.

  Regina stepped up to the back of the police car, but Sheriff Haywood opened the passenger door instead and guided her toward it. “You’re up front with me. And here.” He shed his police coat and thrust it at her.

  “I don’t really feel cold.” Weird, because a layer of snow covered the ground and more of the white stuff drifted down around them, like they were in one of those pretty globes. An officer and a bride—not the usual snow globe characters, but it made her smile anyway.

  “You’ve got goose bumps, so you’re cold. Just put it on.”

  “A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt,” Regina muttered, but did as he asked, and with the material still warm from his body, a different type of warmth rose up. The coat smelled nice, too, musky and woodsy, and if he wasn’t staring at her with a confused, frustrated expression on his face, she might’ve even lifted the fabric and taken a sniff.

  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but someone walked by, and the sheriff’s gaze moved to them. He nodded at the guy. “Hey, it’s getting bad out, and the storm’s supposed to dump more snow. You need a place to stay for the night?”

  “Thank you, Sheriff, but I’ve got somewhere to stay.”

  The voice sounded familiar, and as the guy stepped into the puddle of lamplight, Regina recognized the hitchhiker.

  “Hey, Gabe! You were totally right. That restaurant was the best, and the people here are the nicest.” She lifted a hand to the side of her face and stage-whispered, “Even if the sheriff is a bit grumpy.” She snorted a laugh. “Maybe he should own Grumpy’s.”

  The sheriff glanced at her, and remorse crept in. He was helping her out and had offered Gabe a place to stay too. And right when she’d decided he was the gruffest person she’d ever met, he’d made that Bugs Bunny joke. So now she struggled to land on the exact right description for him.

  “Um, thanks again for not arresting me,” she said.

  One corner of the sheriff’s mouth turned up a fraction of an inch, and her nerve endings pricked up as she anticipated getting a whole smile. But then his mouth flattened into a firm line, the good humor leaving as quickly as it’d come. He turned back, assumedly to address Gabe, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Hmm. I’m even more buzzed than I thought. She was returning to her one glass of wine limit from here on out.

  Now I’m making plans for all my future drinking. Yeah, Regina, you really are a barrel of monkeys. No wonder Steve got out
while he could.

  “What’s with the face?” the sheriff asked.

  “What’s with your face?” she countered so she wouldn’t have to explain—and honestly, her outfit should say enough. Spoiler alert: any woman wearing a bridal gown not in a shop, the privacy of her own home, or while standing next to a groom, has had a bad day.

  “How do you know Gabe?” Sheriff Haywood asked.

  “He was out on the highway hitchhiking, so I gave him a ride into town.”

  A scowl creased the sheriff’s face. “You make it a habit of picking up strangers?”

  She swung out her arm, toward the spot Gabe previously occupied. “You just offered him a place to stay.”

  “Yeah, because he’s not a complete stranger to me, and I’m a big guy who could handle myself if someone attacked me.”

  “I have good gut instincts.”

  He gave her dress a pointed look, and her jaw dropped for the second time that night. Before she could say anything, he said, “Just … maybe don’t pick up too many hitchhikers. It makes it hard to keep people safe, even if I admire that you’d do something so nice for a stranger.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m not your concern most of the time.” She yawned, exhaustion suddenly hitting her hard. Cold was setting in, too, and she wrapped her arms around herself, glad for the jacket.

  “Well, here and now you are, and I plan to make sure you have a safe, comfortable place to sleep tonight, so why don’t you get in the car?” The sheriff nudged her inside, shoving the extra layers of her now snow-covered skirt into the car before shutting the door.

  Regina put on the seat belt, and as he drove down the road, she leaned back farther in the seat. Her brain told her to pay attention to her surroundings and what was happening, but her eyelids kept drifting closed, and all she vaguely recalled was being carried inside a warm house and laid on a couch. Voices, male and female, and then someone took off her heels and dragged a blanket over the top of her.