Head over Heels for the Holidays

by Jennifer Bernard

  Rune gave Maya a nod. She clicked on a pen light and played it over the envelope so Cara could get a look at it.

  Unexpectedly, she turned beet red.

  “That’s…that’s for me.”

  “Obviously,” Rune said. “It says right there—”

  “No, I mean, it’s not from the stalker. It’s from a…friend. He…ugh. Can I just see what it says inside?”

  Maya’s eyebrows lifted. “You know who left this for you? Why didn’t he just give it to you?”

  “I don’t know. He’s shy.”

  “These are block letters, Cara. You can’t possibly recognize that handwriting. You don’t know for sure—”

  “Yes, I do. He uses Sharpies for his artwork. He’s a really talented artist. You should see some of the drawings he does. Those aren’t just any old block letters. See how he blended the different colors? It’s amazing how he can do that with nothing but Sharpies. Just—give it to me.” Her face was still flushed; Rune’s heart went out to her. Nothing like getting busted on your first crush.

  Maya turned to Rune. “What do you think? Does the block writing look like our guy?”

  He bent down to examine it more closely. Now that he did, it clearly was the work of someone younger and more artistic than Stalker Chad. “Not really,” he admitted. “Sorry for the false alarm.”

  “Hey, don’t even worry about that. Better safe than sorry.” She handed the envelope to Cara. “Go ahead, open it. But if there’s anything in there that doesn’t look right to you, I need to examine it.”

  “Okay.” Cara hesitated as the two of them watched her. “A little privacy, please?”

  With a roll of his eyes, Rune took Maya by the elbow and walked her a few steps away. “I’m sorry. You were all Zen-ed out from yoga and I dragged you down here for nothing. How can I make it up to you?”

  Her forehead crinkled. “It’s my job. You don’t have to make up anything.”

  “Hot fudge sundae? The perfect post-yoga treat? I was going to make one for Cara to get her through her algebra. I can make one for you too.”

  Her deep honey eyes glowed against the drifting mist. “I haven’t even had dinner yet.”

  “Neither have I. Cara’s probably been munching Cheetos. I’ll make us some fish tacos.”

  Harris had told him to make a move, after all. Fish tacos counted, right?

  “Okay,” she finally said. “I don’t have anything at home except leftover takeout from lunch two days ago.”

  He shook his head, frowning. “As a medical professional, I have to point out that you should be taking much better care of yourself.”

  “Noted. You aren’t taking away my hot fudge sundae, are you?”

  “Of course not. That would be cruel.” He glanced over his shoulder at Cara, who was still completely wrapped up in her love note. How long could the thing possibly be? “This is bad,” he said mostly to himself.

  “It’s normal. She’s a teenager.”

  “She’s a teenager who might have to pick up and leave at any moment. That part’s not normal.”

  Her expression sobered as she took in Cara’s rapt expression. “Poor kid. What are you going to tell her?”

  Tiny icy droplets landed on his face as he thought about it. They felt like frozen tears. “I can’t tell her to stop liking him. That ain’t gonna happen. So I guess I’ll tell her to just be real and get to know him as best she can during whatever time she has here.”

  Her gaze held his for a long moment. “That sounds like good advice,” she said softly.

  Everything seemed to still around them. He heard the soft whisper of mist landing on the snow and the crinkle of Cara’s envelope. Something was happening here. She was sending him a message. He didn’t want to miss it.

  He replayed his own words. My God—of course the same advice could apply to them. Just be real. Enjoy the time you have.

  But what about the risk of hurting Maya when he left?

  “Do you think it’s good advice?” he asked cautiously. “Because I could say something else. ‘Don’t get close, it’ll be too painful,’ that sort of thing.”

  He watched her closely, wondering if she’d understand that he was referring to them, not just Cara. Of course she did; Maya didn’t miss things like that.

  “That’s true. And it’s definitely worth thinking hard about. But nothing in life is ever a guarantee, is it? You have to consider all angles and then make a choice. There’s always risks, whatever you do.”

  Energy pulsed between them. Her lips parted; he loved her lips, their full curves and satiny texture. He drew closer, as if she was a magnet and he was a helpless…paper clip or something.

  Just then, Cara spoke behind them. “All clear on the letter. It’s definitely not from the stalker.”

  Rune straightened up, startled out of his Maya-induced trance. He held her gaze as he answered Cara. “Good to know. I guess we can stay a little longer then.”

  “Maybe a lot longer. Maybe we found the place he’ll never find. Lost Harbor is named after being lost, after all. You guys coming?”

  Maya answered. “Your brother promised me tacos and a hot fudge sundae. You bet I’m coming.”

  “Oh good! Party!” Cara scampered toward the door, as much as she could while dragging heavy winter boots through the snow.

  “After your algebra,” Rune called to her.

  He ushered Maya inside with a hand on the small of her back. Happiness flowed through him like the mist blowing in from the lake. “How’s your algebra?”

  “My algebra lives in my phone in a little app known as a calculator.”

  He laughed, already feeling the joy her company always brought him.

  “I need some help too,” she told him.

  “Name it.” Maybe it would involve kissing, or necking down on the dock, or snuggling in his loft…

  “I have to decide what to bring for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

  Another dream crushed. Rune mentally laughed at his overeager fantasy life. “On it. You know I’m here for you, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter 17

  Thanksgiving

  * * *

  The next afternoon, Rune swung by Maya’s house to pick her up for Thanksgiving dinner. She lived about a mile down the road from her dad, close enough to be able to run over if he needed something, but not in the same space, where they might drive each other crazy.

  Her house was a two-bedroom cedar-shingled piece of heaven. She’d decorated it meticulously, with mostly muted tones along with splashes of tomato red. She only allowed comfortable pieces of furniture in her house. But the best part was the custom bathtub where she liked to soak after a long day at work. Candles, bubbles, a glass of wine, the works. She had a whole collection of bath salts and oils, along with lotions to smooth into her skin afterwards.

  Only her girlfriends knew about this side of her. They all knew they couldn’t go wrong with a good bath bomb for her birthday.

  As she let Rune into her house for the first time, she was torn between watching his reaction to her personal space and admiring the way he filled out the hand-knit sweater he wore.

  And his tight black jeans.

  “Which little old lady knit you that sweater?” she asked him as she grabbed her wool overcoat. She’d spent some time picking out her outfit—a form-fitting brown suede skirt and shiny claret patent-leather boots. A scoop-necked top showed off her favorite necklace—a whimsical abstract gazelle one of her aunts had sent her from Ghana.

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” Rune said gravely.

  “So that’s how it is? I see where I stand.” She shrugged on her coat and picked up the sweet potato casserole she’d made from her grandmother’s recipe. In the end, she’d gone for the tried-and-true. Everyone in town had tried her casserole at some point, but it still got her compliments.

  “You stand wherever you want to stand.” Rune took her free hand and drew her toward him. “Right about here works for me. Or ma
ybe a little closer.”

  The heat in his eyes made desire flare in her belly. He looked as if he wanted to toss aside the sweet potatoes and eat her up instead. Last night, over tacos and hot fudge sundaes, he’d shot her so many secret hot looks that she’d needed that ice cream just to cool down.

  Now he was doing it again.

  “Stop looking at me like that. We’re late.”

  “We could skip Thanksgiving and hang out here. I never vibed with the pilgrims anyway. Those weird shoes and those funky black hats.”

  “We’re not skipping Thanksgiving.” She sent him a severe look, even though she wouldn’t mind ripping that sweater off his body and seeing how those muscles looked without clothes. “I worked too hard on this dish.”

  “Fine, be that way,” he grumbled. “I suppose Cara would be worried. She’s already at the bakery helping Jessica set up. How’s Harris getting there?”

  “Vicki.” She made a face. She still couldn’t say that name with anything resembling a smile. “She’s driving him in her fancy red Jeep that she finally put snow tires on after I threw several fits.”

  “Then we don’t have to pick up anyone else? It’s just you and me? I can hold your hand while we drive?”

  “No, you can keep your hands where they belong. Ten and two.”

  “You take all the zing out of Thanksgiving,” he complained, as if that made any sense.

  They got into his car and drove down the road that would take them past Harris’ place, along the mudflats, past the Lost Harbor airport and eventually to Seafarers Beach, where the bakery was located.

  “There’s so much to catch you up on,” she told him as he drove. “I didn’t want to say anything last night with Cara around, but I have an idea about Christmas.”

  “Already thinking about the next holiday party?”

  “Oh, there’s plenty more between now and then. But I might cut back because—“ She bit her lip. That was another thing she hadn’t wanted to mention last night; that Jerome was in town. She still didn’t particularly want to talk about it.

  “Because of Jerome?” he asked gently.

  She swung her head around in surprise.

  “Harris told me. I think he’s worried about you.”

  “He always worries about me. Honestly, though, it’s fine. I haven’t run into Jerome yet. Maybe I won’t. If I do, I do.”

  “That’s right. You got this. With any luck, you can give him a ticket for something when you do.”

  She laughed. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about that myself.”

  A sense of real contentment came over her as they reached the mudflats. Silvery shadows on the mud reflected the low heavy clouds overhead. A light sleet began to fall, but the two of them were cozy inside the shelter of the car.

  Being with Rune was so satisfying that she could barely remember the time before he came. He pleased her on so many levels—his sense of humor, his kindness to his patients, his competence in his field. The way he’d dropped everything to take care of Cara gave her a deep respect for his fundamental character. And that, she knew, was one of the most important things to her—respect. She needed it, and she needed to give it, too.

  A flash of red in a snowbank up ahead interrupted her reverie. “What’s that? On the right.”

  Rune clicked on the windshield wipers. “Looks like a car went off the road.”

  A red car? Stark terror seized her. That red was the same color as Vicki’s damn Jeep.

  “We have to stop,” she told Rune in a tight voice.

  “Of course.” He leaned forward to peer through the sleet. This part of the road had no streetlights. The only illumination came from the periodic blink of the warning lights at the nearby airport. “It’s definitely a Jeep,” he said in a tense voice.

  She could make out the tracks of the vehicle now—it had fishtailed on the slippery sleet. Vicki had veered right, then left, then right again and finally hurtled off the side of the road and down into a drainage ditch.

  Please don’t be hurt, please don’t be hurt, she repeated like an incantation under her breath.

  Along with the fear came fury. She was going to throttle Vicki. No, she’d throw her in jail for endangering an…elder. So what if that wasn’t a thing? She’d make it a damn thing.

  Rune pulled over as close to the Jeep as he could get and put on his hazards. Both of them jumped out of his car and hurried toward the accident. She slipped on the slick road and would have fallen if Rune hadn’t grabbed her arm. Right—she was dressed for Thanksgiving dinner, not a car accident. She’d completely forgotten.

  Rune kept a grip on her arm while they covered the last few feet to the Jeep. Amazingly, the police part of her mind kept operating even while panic raced through her. The Jeep was precariously perched on its passenger-side wheels, jammed up against a pile of snow left by a snow plow. That was good; snow was a more forgiving obstacle than a tree.

  Harris was in the passenger seat so he would have borne the brunt of the crash. Still, the Jeep had only traveled a few yards before coming to a rest in the snow bank. There was a good chance that neither of them had been injured too badly.

  Even so, this was all Vicki’s fault.

  As soon as they were close enough, Maya furiously tugged her arm out of Rune’s grasp and dashed the rest of the way to the driver’s side window. “Vicki, I’m going to—“

  The window rolled down and a familiar face emerged. Familiar—but not Vicki’s. “Maya? Is that you?”

  She skidded to a stop and nearly toppled over backwards on her damn patent leather boots. The wall of Rune’s body served as a backstop, but she barely noticed.

  “Jerome?”

  “Yeah, I thought this rental had snow tires but I should have checked.” He flashed her his million-dollar grin, the one that had lured investors into that failed geothermal project. “My bad.”

  “My bad?” she repeated. “Okay. How’s—” She gestured with her head toward his passenger. She couldn’t make out much about her, but guessed it was Leanne.

  “I’m mostly okay,” came a trembling female voice from the other seat. “I think I might have a cut. Something’s dripping on me.”

  Rune trudged through the snow to her side of the Jeep, and bent over to look inside. He used his phone flashlight to assess the damage. Which meant that he was thinking much quicker than she was.

  “I do see some blood on the side of her head,” he said quietly to Maya. “And she’s probably in shock too. We need to get them to the emergency room.”

  She nodded and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call the station.”

  But when she got ahold of the dispatcher, she learned that accidents were happening all over Lost Harbor due to the sleet, and that it would be at least half an hour before anyone could get to them.

  “Sorry, Rune, we’re going to have to make a detour,” she told him quietly.

  He nodded without any hint of worry. She could see why he made a good paramedic; he was coolheaded in a crisis. “I’ll work on getting the driver out first. Why don’t you call your dad and make sure they made it safely.”

  Would anyone else have thought of that? Jerome sure wouldn’t have.

  “Make sure the car is stable first,” she told him.

  “Of course. Paramedic, remember? I got this. Check on Harris so you don’t worry.”

  She stepped aside and clicked her father’s number on her phone.

  “Baby? Where are you? Everyone’s waiting on you here,” he answered.

  “You’re at Jessica’s?”

  “Got here fifteen minutes ago. There’s a whole feast spread out here. I can hardly talk for how much my mouth is watering. You coming?”

  “We ran across a car off the road. We need to get them to the emergency room. You all go on ahead, just save us some leftovers.”

  She heard noises in the background, then Harris must have handed the phone to Jessica, because the next voice was hers. “What happened, Maya?”

&nb
sp; She covered her mouth so the sound wouldn’t travel. “You’re not going to believe it, but we’re in the midst of a vehicular extraction. Jerome and Leanne skidded off the road. We have to get to them to the ER.”

  “My gosh, are they okay?”

  “Both conscious and alert. They’ll be fine.”

  “Oh good, that means I can enjoy the fact that I can’t imagine a more satisfying first encounter than that, can you? Is there any way you can put him in jail? That would be the best.”

  Maya bit her lip to hold back her own urge to laugh. “You’re terrible.”

  “When it comes to my friends, my pettiness knows no bounds. Don’t worry about us. You go take care of business, we’ll see you when you get here.”

  She stuck her phone back into her coat pocket and stepped back to the rescue operation. Rune was bracing the Jeep door open while Jerome fought against gravity to climb out of the driver’s seat.

  Rune kept a tight grip on Jerome’s arm as he staggered into the snow. He slipped and wound up on one knee. Not so cocky now, was he?

  Maya shoved aside the ungracious thought. She was better than this. She didn’t need any kind of revenge for how Jerome had treated her.

  Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d personally shoved him into the snow the way she’d imagined so many times. He’d gotten there on his own.

  Rune dragged Jerome upright and kept a hold on him until he’d gotten his balance. “Do you have any pain anywhere?”

  “Everywhere,” he complained. “Damn, I forgot how freaking cold and dank it is here. I’m Jerome Morris.” He stuck out his hand for Rune to shake.

  “Rune Larsen. Want to go warm up in the car? We’ll get your friend out.”

  “My wife. Leanne. Maya knows her.” Jerome dropped his hand and limped toward Rune’s car. “Good to see ya, Maya,” he said in a lower voice as he passed her.

  She ignored him and moved to Rune’s side to help him with Leanne. Getting her out was much more challenging. The windshield had gotten caved in by a branch; the shattered tempered glass was only an inch away from her face. It probably accounted for the cut on her head.