Fake Fiance Christmas Collection: Countdown to Christmas

by Taylor Hart

  “Ahh!” Zoey screamed into the night sky. Her voice was small and quickly lost in the blizzard. She never had outbursts like this. Maybe that just meant she was long overdue.

  The snow wouldn’t quit. She stared at a slowly growing pile of it next to the storage units. There had been so much snow lately. The pile where the snow had been cleared was almost as tall as the storage building. She thought about how she could probably climb up the heaping mound of snow and stand on top of the building.

  The thought appealed to her. She’d always loved to climb things while growing up. Her mother had called her a tomboy, and her father had loved to challenge her. Any tree at any park they’d gone to on Sunday picnics had been fair game. She had never tired of climbing them and looking down and laughing at how small things felt from way up in the tree.

  Suddenly, she wanted to get to the top of the storage unit, just so she could have that feeling again. Of being on top, of everything below getting smaller. She rushed to the end of the snowpack and ran up it as fast as she could. It was amazing, even though she almost fell before she got her footing. She scooted to the edge, keeping one foot on the snowpack that had brought her to this point.

  Dang. It was different up here. Everything looked clean and white. They’d probably had over a foot in the last four hours. It was a soft darkness, gently lit with the lights of the storage unit place. There were lights over the side road, but not much traffic. The moon was huge as it peeked through the clouds. She sucked in a breath and grinned with pride. She’d made it to the top.

  Her father’s face staring up at her flashed through her mind. Why hadn’t she appreciated her parents more when they were alive? Why had she taken for granted the things they’d done for her and the way they had doted on her? Her heart ached from missing them, combined with the earlier jittery, worried feeling that had forced her to hitchhike to the freeway exit, then walk here. She didn’t even want to think about walking back. She had boots, gloves, and a big coat. She would be fine, but …

  She missed Josh. She missed her parents. Why did everyone around her die? She slammed her hand down on the roof and felt some of the ice on it give way. A bolt of fear ran up her spine; if the icy sheet cracked, she would fall off.

  Staring down, she thought how easy it might be to just fall. Maybe it would feel good, like she was flying. What was she thinking? No, she couldn’t fly. Man, she’d been in a bad mental place for a long time.

  Without Josh, she’d felt lost. Sure, she’d kept going. She’d thrown herself into work and school, but it hadn’t been enough. It never felt like enough. Tears burned in her eyes, and she hated them, wanting to gouge them from her face. “Why?” she yelled. “Why?”

  Her mother had always told her she should pray when she didn’t know what to do. Unfortunately, Zoey knew praying didn’t work either. At least, it hadn’t when she’d been in the hospital before the doctor had told her neither of her parents would make it. She resisted, but prayer would have made her mother happy, so she quieted her thoughts as best she could and said, “Dear Lord, help me. Please help me.”

  Without warning, a horn blared and truck lights pulled in.

  She jolted, almost losing her balance again.

  It was a black Ford truck, all lifted and decked out. The driver’s side window rolled down, blaring rock music loud enough for the next block over to hear. A guy in a beanie cap stuck his head out of the window and yelled, “Are you crazy? Get down!”

  Anger and pain and sadness seethed inside of her. She felt frozen, paralyzed.

  “Hey!” the guy driving the truck yelled again. “Get down!”

  She glared at him. “No!”

  The guy clambered out of the truck. He was a big guy, too. He wore jeans, lumberjack-looking boots laced up the sides, and a big, brown coat to match. From this height, she could make out dark hair, a beard, and a beanie cap that had a Boston logo on it. “What’s wrong?” He stared up at her.

  She’d been about to yell that he’d better stay back, but his question took her off guard. “What?”

  Snow was falling harder, and she saw the blizzard in his headlights. He walked closer to her. “You’re clearly frustrated. You have no idea how much I get that right now. So what’s wrong?”

  “Oh.” She liked the way his voice sounded. It was a low tenor. Not rushed, not hurried, but persistent. She imagined he might make a good nurse, the way he was good at handling a crisis situation. Which was stupid, because this wasn’t a crisis. She just had nursing on the brain. “I’m fine.”

  “Um, I don’t think so.” He crossed his arms. “I’m coming up.” He looked at the snowbank, and she knew what he was thinking.

  “No!” she yelled.

  He ignored her, taking the hill like a grizzly bear with both hands and feet. It wasn’t long before he was standing right beside her, scowling.

  Abruptly, the ice on the roof was slipping, and both of them slid off the side of the roof way too fast. They kind of skated down to the snowpack. Then she started rolling, and the guy tumbled down, too. It wasn’t long before she collapsed at the bottom, snow burning her neck, face, everywhere.

  “Man, that was a rush.” The guy laughed right next to her.

  On impulse, she sat up, picked up a pile of snow, and dumped it on his head. “You almost killed us.”

  “Hey!” He stood quickly, the snow coming off of him like a dog shaking off the water after a bath. “I tried to help you!”

  She pointed to the roof. “That whole sheet of ice could have landed on top of us!”

  He frowned, investigating the pile of ice next to them. “No, it broke up enough that we would have been fine.”

  “Not the point! Why did you do that?”

  His lip tugged in a slight smile. Briefly, she thought he was handsome. His face had a scar beneath his right eye, but his eyes were a magnificent movie-star blue. “Why should you be the only crazy one?”

  Unable to shake the weird feeling about how this guy had showed up just after she’d prayed, she felt somehow vulnerable. “Go away,” she said, storming back to the lock.

  He laughed. “No. C’mon, that was fun!”

  She bent to fiddle with the lock again. “Your idea of fun almost got me killed.” Stupid ignoramus. It annoyed her that her heart was racing. Dang, he was cute.

  “I’m sorry. I was really trying to help you. You looked like you needed …”

  She cast an icy glance at him.

  “Help,” he finished weakly.

  “Oh, you were trying to be a hero, were you?”

  “You could be a little grateful,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you were really trying to help me. It seemed like you had a death wish.”

  He bent down by her, his face too close to hers, looking at the lock. “Is it stuck?”

  It was obvious this guy wasn’t going to be scared off easily. “I can’t get my storage lock open, and I need something out of my husband’s things.”

  His eyes met hers, and he pulled back from her. “Where’s your husband?”

  Why had she said husband? Why had she opened herself up to these questions? “He’s dead,” she said flatly as she tinkered with the lock.

  A little intake of breath showed he was sufficiently shocked. “O-kay.”

  Zoey felt shame and humiliation course through her. She hated being a widow, unable to even open a stupid lock. She stood. “Never mind.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry about your husband.”

  Their eyes locked, and she bit back her automatic retort. It felt like she knew him from somewhere. “Do I know you?”

  Giving her a once-over, he shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He put out his gloved hand. “I’m Mike Hamilton. I’m from Snow Valley, but I’ve been at school the past couple of months in Boston. Before that, I attended MSU. So we might have seen each other on campus.”

  Chills washed over her. It was like she was ha
ving a moment here, and she didn’t care to guess what it meant. “Hmm.”

  “I just flew in. I’m home for a few days for Christmas. And for my sister’s wedding.”

  She took his hand and tried to place him. “I’ve heard of Snow Valley. A girl in the nursing program is from there.”

  “Who?” Mike asked. “I’m probably related.”

  “Chelsea Snow.”

  Mike grinned. “Second cousin, once removed.”

  She pulled her hand back, his knowledge of that putting her off guard. “You honestly know that off the top of your head?”

  His grin widened, and she saw he had pretty teeth. Then she felt bad for noticing.

  “What?” he questioned.

  “Nothing.” When had been the last time she’d really thought about how a guy looked like in any kind of attractive way? She couldn’t remember.

  He blew out a breath and knelt. “I know that because it’s a small town. Sometimes, when you’re going to a wedding by yourself, it’s too small.” He picked up the lock. “Let’s see if we can open her up.”

  “Okay.” It unnerved her how normal this felt, even after some guy chased her up a snowbank, almost killed her, and then helped her.

  He jiggled it and chuckled. “Bugger is stuck, isn’t it?”

  “I said that.”

  Tinkering with it, he tugged off his gloves and used his bare hands to pull out the key, reinsert it, and try to turn it. “Man.” He winced, and she could see he was turning it hard.

  Tink. The key broke off in the lock.

  “Dang,” he said, standing and looking down at the key in his hand, then to her, a worried expression on his face.

  Zoey teetered between anger and sadness for a precarious moment, and then all she could do was laugh. “Oh my gosh, of course this would happen.” She threw up a hand. “This is just my luck.”

  Chapter 3

  The girl in front of Mike was clearly losing it. He could tell by the way she was laughing in a hysterical way, but also because, well, he’d caught her on the roof staring down like she was about to jump.

  Her anger at life struck a chord in him. He’d seen the desperation in her eyes when she’d talked about her husband. What did that say about him? He knew what it said. Ann had broken things off, and the reason she’d given was that he was a Neanderthal. Hmph. So he wasn’t a polished Boston guy who liked to eat fish and go to the theater. So what?

  Focusing on the broken key in his hand, he had an idea. He trudged to his truck to get his pliers out of the toolbox he knew his dad would have in the back. If his father was anything, it was prepared. When he’d first turned sixteen, his father had told him, “A man always has his tools and jumper cables.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked, not following him.

  Since he still hadn’t turned the truck off, he jumped in and nudged it closer to where she was. When he got out, he brought his tools with him.

  “What are you doing?” she called out.

  Extracting the pliers and a hammer, he went for the lock. “I’ll buy you a new lock, but this one is coming off.”

  She didn’t say anything while he tried to crack it with the pliers. The lock refused to give. He thought he might just have to use brute force, so that’s what he did—banged the heck out of it until it broke.

  He undid it and threw the garage up. To his surprise, there were only ten or so boxes. “This it?”

  Her hands had gone to her face, and she slowly walked inside, putting a hand out and reverently touching the boxes. “This is it.” She opened one and pulled out a picture, then held it to her chest. “Josh.”

  Dang, he’d just stumbled into something intimate. He shifted awkwardly in place.

  “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it. Nice to meet you … wait, what was your name?”

  “Zoey,” she whispered, still holding the picture with her eyes closed.

  He shuffled out of the storage shed. “Sorry about the lock.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. I can’t afford to keep this place anyway. I just needed a couple of things.” She met his gaze. “Thank you.”

  Warmth filled him, and he glad that he’d been able to help. “You’re welcome.”

  As Mike climbed into his truck, he realized it had gotten darker by now and the snow was coming down harder. Shoot, he needed to get going. He navigated to the two storage units his parents kept renting every year. After they collected the toys during the toy drive, they would bring them here until they were given to the Christmas Box House in Billings. It provided foster kids with presents when they first went into foster care, and it also provided the kids of cancer patients with necessities all year long. His father needed him to assess how much was left and how much space they had.

  Mike took the keys his dad had left in the truck and went to the first storage unit, unlocking it quickly and tugging open the door. It was empty. “Good.” Mike shut it and relocked it. That meant that everything had been used up. In the next one, he found the same thing. He shut it, locked it, and got back in the truck. His mind went to the Super Eight on the side of the road just before the freeway to Snow Valley. He could stay there if he had to.

  Looking down, he saw he had a missed call on his phone. Immediately, he called his dad back.

  “You’re staying in Billings, right?” his dad asked.

  “We’ll see, Dad. Hold tight.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just leaving the storage units.”

  “That took a long time,” his father noted.

  Mike didn’t want to get into it. “There was a … complication, but it’s fine.”

  “Is something wrong with the units?”

  “No, not the units. The complication was something else. Don’t worry. I’ll get a room and text you. Gotta go.”

  “Okay. Love you.”

  He pressed end and put his phone down, putting the truck in gear before taking off. He drove past her unit, but no one was there and the door was shut. Worry skittered through him. Where was she? He realized he hadn’t seen any other cars in the parking lot.

  Turning out onto the road, he put his truck in four-wheel drive to make sure he had some grip if he slid around. In the distance, he saw someone walking off—it was Zoey, carrying a box.

  The snow would probably cover her completely by the time she got wherever she was going.

  “What the—?” He pulled to the side next to her.

  Catching her in the lights, he saw her turn. She lost her balance, and the next thing he knew, she was falling. She went down the side of the highway ditch, taking the box too.

  He cursed and got out of his truck, running to catch up to her. “Zoey!”

  When he reached her, she was trying to stand. Turning to him, she growled, “Saving me again?” She sputtered it through the snow covering her from head to toe.

  Guilt surged through him. Grabbing her arms, he pulled her to a standing position. “I am so sorry!”

  He lost his footing, and they tumbled down the rest of the hill. They landed with him on top of her.

  Zoey pushed at him. “Get off me, you oversized brute!”

  He quickly got up and helped her, even though she ripped her arm out of his once they were standing. “I’m so sorry.”

  She wasn’t paying attention to him. “Where is the box?” She started running up the hill toward the box.

  “I’ll get it.” He was faster, moving to her side and leaning down to grab it. “I got it.”

  Their eyes held. Dang, she was pretty, even with snow in her face and her hair all plastered to the sides. He could tell she didn’t wear a lick of makeup. Her skin was perfect like porcelain. Was he really thinking this?

  She put her hands out. “Thank you for running me off the road, but I think I can take it from here.”

  Realizing she was going to continue walking, he kept the box. “No.” He started back to his truck. This woman wouldn’t want a ride, but he wasn’t going to take no for an
answer.

  “That’s my box,” she said, dogging his footsteps. “You can’t take it.”

  He got to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door. “I know. I don’t want it, but I’m giving you a ride to wherever you need to go, and I had a feeling you wouldn’t want me to give you a ride.”

  She crossed her arms stubbornly. “I don’t.”

  “Did you walk out to the storage units?”

  “I didn’t walk. I hitched.”

  “What?” His breath left him, and he made a fast decision, shoving the box onto the seat. “Then I guess you won’t care if I give you a ride.”

  She glared at him. “I will get a different ride, hero. You’ve helped me enough for one day.”

  “You’d rather go with some stranger than with me?”

  “You’re a stranger, too.”

  “No.”

  She poked him hard in the chest. “Yes, you are.”

  He laughed. “Hey, I know your friend. She’s my second cousin once removed.”

  The angry look on Zoey’s softened a bit.

  “Just get in.” He said it in a bit of a shameful tone. “No hitching, it’s dangerous. And this way I can tell your friend that I saved you from jumping off a rooftop and killing yourself on the edge of the highway.”

  She scoffed but hopped into the truck. “Fine.”

  Chapter 4

  Zoey didn’t know what the most infuriating thing about this guy was: the fact that he thought he had saved her when he’d almost killed her—twice!—or the fact that she liked his cologne.

  When Mike stopped for burgers at a Wendy’s and she refused food, he bought her the same thing he’d gotten: a burger, fries, and a Coke. She held the bag of food in her hands, but she was too prideful to eat it. Something about the way he so flippantly bought the food, like he didn’t have to account for spending the money, ticked her off.