"You nurse them back to elf," she said, her face breaking into a radiant smile. His lips twitched involuntarily as he watched her from the side of his eye.
Now that he knew she was cracking jokes; he could see the humor in it.
However, Mitch really didn't do Christmas. Mitch hadn't attended a Christmas gathering in quite a few years, which is why his dad was spending the holiday in Houston with his sisters.
Mitch lived outside of Perdition, Texas, an area that was technically unincorporated, but had city services. He didn’t mind living near the shifter town, except in December, when the town lost their collective minds with Christmas cheer. It was a quaint town that attracted tourists from places all around Texas during the holidays. The people of Perdition loved making things jolly this time of year. This time of year, Mitch, always reclusive, became antisocial. Aside from the occasional rescue mission like this one, Mitch avoided Perdition, its cheerful denizens, and gawping tourists until well after the New Year. The town celebrated all twelve days of Christmas, and the festivities continued until the sixth of January. Mitch kept to himself until at least that day.
"I'm moving to town to teach third grade," she told him, smiling. "That's why I know so many Christmas jokes."
Mitch managed a grunt.
"I talked to my sister on your smartphone," Tu informed him. "She told me you live in town, too?"
Mitch decided he could handle this question. "I have a cabin a few miles out of town. My shop is behind City Hall."
She smiled as if her ice breaking exercise had worked on him. He could see the wheels turning in her brain. "I just needed to ask him a bunch of stupid questions until he gave in and answered me!" he imagined her to be thinking.
Silence fell again, and he slowed even more, in order to focus on the treacherous road. He decided then that he would not be taking her anywhere but his cabin for the evening. He couldn’t risk both their lives trying to take her into town. Over the years, he'd had to put people up in the cabin for a period of time, usually just overnight. But when he got her to shelter, he could not risk going out again, just to take her home. Even if he wanted to, his protective instincts wouldn't allow it. He wondered how she would take the news.
"The weather is pretty bad right now," he told her, watching her out of the corner of his eye and thinking this might make her shut up.
"It looks that way!" she said with faux cheer.
"When the weather is like this, it's best to stay off the road." He kept his eyes forward, letting her process that information.
"I don't know how it is in Ohio, but here, when the weather is like this, most towns can't keep up with snow removal. Not to mention the slick roads from the ice storm we’re expecting."
"My sister told me," she said with a note of resignation in her voice.
"She did?" he asked her.
"Yes," Tu told him. "She's who I called when I borrowed your smartphone. Mitch, am I going to have to stay in your cabin tonight?"
He couldn’t decipher the expression in her eyes. She looked speculative, and for some reason, he thought about the jolt of electricity he experienced when they shook hands, and he frowned. He didn't like people in his space, and on those few occasions where he'd had to have stranded motorists spend the night, he did so grudgingly.
But somehow, he didn't mind the idea of this cute woman in his cabin. The realization disturbed him. He thought back to the jolt of electricity he'd experienced when they shook hands earlier. He didn't want to ponder what that spark meant.
Mitch wanted this woman, but he'd been attracted to women before, and none of them made him feel as if touching them would be like picking up a live wire. Plus, she talked too much, and he didn't like that.
He cleared his throat. "There is no way I can take you anywhere tonight. The weather’s too bad."
Something had made him come out tonight in the middle of a snow storm, looking for gods knew what. Minotaurs roamed at night, especially unmated ones. He'd been roaming more since Thanksgiving.
"Thank you," Tu said, breaking into his wayward thoughts. "For saving me."
She had turned in her seat, hitched the leg closest to him up until it formed a triangle on the upholstery of the bench seat. The inseam of her jeans had two rows of gold stitches the followed the curve of her thighs. Mitch found both the movement and the stitches up her leg enormously distracting. She kept on talking, but his vision had started to tunnel and focus on one spot...where the stitches of her jeans ended between her thighs.
The stitches on the inseam of her jeans seemed to point the way to her womanhood like lights on a runway. He blinked, frowned, and refocused. Her lips were moving, so she must be talking, but the blood pounding in his veins and flowing to his dick drowned out her voice.
It mattered to him that Petunia Greene liked him, and he didn’t like that. He turned this new realization around in his head, examining it. Why on earth would her liking him be important to him? Generally speaking, Mitch thought very little of what others thought of him.
"What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?" Tu smiled broadly, eyebrows up in anticipation. Mitch wondered why, of all people that he should want to like him, he wanted this woman to like him. The more he knew about her, the less he wanted to like her. And Mitch sucked at small talk.
"I don't know," he said, sighing heavily. "Why don't you tell me?"
"Come on," she said, touching his arm gently. "Don't you have any guesses?"
This was one of the rare moments where he wished he had a better sense of humor. Or he wished he had any sense of humor.
"I couldn't begin to guess," he said, praying she would take pity on him and just tell him the punchline.
"Frostbite!" She grinned at him, the expression equal parts cute and disturbing. Her smile made his chest tighten with an emotion he could not name. It felt a bit like...happiness.
The woman was human; he was a shifter.
The woman was talkative and outgoing; he was taciturn and people-averse.
She was twenty-something; he was on the wrong side of forty.
If he got involved with her, one day, probably sooner rather than later, she would notice how different they were. He would cease to be the cool, older boyfriend who drove a badass tow truck. He would become the grumpy, stick-in-the-mud boyfriend who never wanted to have any fun.
And what the fuck was up with the Christmas jokes? Why did she feel the need to make small talk? He studied her out of the corner of his eye. Large earrings shaped like Christmas trees dangled from her ear lobes. Ridiculous.
She liked Christmas jokes and made small talk because the universe wanted him to be aware of all the things he could not reasonably expect from life, namely an adorable, young, cheerful woman. Because he would have her, come to depend on her, and then she would leave, and he would be devastated.
The woman chattering animatedly on the seat next to him had no idea what thoughts whirled in his fevered brain. And she never would, because he was not going to get involved with her. Nope.
Petunia Greene was allll wrong for him.
When they made it to his cabin, he would quickly get her settled into one of the guest rooms, probably one on the third floor to keep her as far away as from the master suite on the first floor. Petunia Greene kept on talking, but now, she rubbed her temples and winced. The smile she'd had at the ready in the 45 minutes he'd known her, the smile that only faltered in the face of outright rudeness, had dissolved.
What the hell?
"What's wrong?" he demanded, feeling a little panicked, his voice sharper than it should be.
"I don't know," she said. "My head hurts. Like the world's worst migraine, only without the little squiggly thingies that dance in front of your eyes.”
He thought about the deployed airbag in her car. Then he thought about the way she had staggered out of her car, confused and disoriented, and he wondered whether she might be concussed. He turned to look at her, concerned for her.
> Still rubbing her temples, she managed a weak smile.
"How long have you been driving around tonight?" she asked.
Should he tell her that he'd been out driving for hours? The compulsion to drive aimlessly for three frustrating hours, looking for something unknown. "Not long," he lied. "About 15 or 20 minutes."
"Wow! Great timing!" She kept on smiling, but it held a dreamy quality. Chipper little thing, despite her current circumstances. As he battled the weather, and her speech became drowsier until she began snoring lightly. He kept stealing glimpses at her. When they got to his place, he'd call Dr. Johnson in town to get her opinion.
Soon, they were driving the familiar road leading to his cabin. It was a behemoth of a house, with three stories and an attic. He woke her with his fingers stroking her cheek. Her eyes opened languidly, dreamily. She was so pretty, and he wanted to kiss her so badly.
"You're beautiful," he said.
He didn’t realize he’d said that aloud until she smiled at him. "Thank you," she said.
He hopped out of the cab of the truck, jogged around to her side, and helped her out of the vehicle.
"Wow," she said when she saw the cabin. "It's so...big!"
"Let me help you up the stairs," he told her with an arm around her waist to help her to the front door. Inside, he ushered her to the great room. He switched on the lights and looked at her.
Her face tilted up to his, he could easily imagine swooping in to give her a kiss. Would she let him do it?
As if reading his mind, she said, "You look like you want to kiss me," in that drowsy, dreamy voice of hers.
He didn't respond, but he couldn't help but look into her eyes for long moments. Something fluttered, then clenched in his chest. He helped her to the couch, put her feet up to make her comfortable, and returned to the wrecker to retrieve enough belongings to get her through the night. He guessed the small bag behind the driver's seat of her car was an overnight bag, no doubt the one she used on her drive to Perdition.
Then he just stood there, looking at her.
"What the hell am I going to do with you?"
CHAPTER FIVE
Naughty and Nice
Mitch put Tu in one of the guest rooms on the third floor, as far away as possible from his own bedroom on the ground floor. Maybe she would be so far away from him that he might even forget he had a guest. A bull could dream.
He wondered whether her woozy, sleepy demeanor was normal for her. He placed her on the bed, then stepped away from it as if it contained a nest of rattlesnakes. It would be best not to get too close to her. He decided to call Tu's sister, Jasmine, to let her know Tu’s status. He turned his back on his guest and made the call.
"Hello," a male voice answered Mitch's call. He sounded alert for the late hour.
"Hello, this is Mitch Wayne. I need to speak with Jasmine Greene," Mitch said uncertainly. Mitch found it difficult to understand subtext and physical cues when in person. For this reason, he loathed using his smartphone, especially in voice only mode.
There was dead silence on the other end of the line. "Why do you need my fiancée?" The question came out stiffly, and Mitch could sense the other's man's hostility. Other than the late hour, he couldn't imagine what the other man had to be hostile about. He'd seen AJ Cotter around town a few times, sometimes with Jasmine Greene, sometimes not. He'd never had any sort of run-in with the guy, so he was puzzled by his reaction.
"I have her sister at my cabin," Mitch said hesitantly, confused by the question.
"What?"
Mitch held the smartphone away from him, staring at it as if he expected it to reveal some subtext he'd been unaware of.
"Her sister went off the road earlier this evening, and I brought her here to wait out the storm," Mitch grunted. What was this fool's problem, anyway?
"Oh!" AJ's voice relaxed noticeably on the other end. "Hang on."
AJ summoned his woman to the phone.
"Hello," Jasmine said. She sounded way more friendly than her boyfriend.
"This is Mitch Wayne," he said. "I have your sister." Only when the words went galloping out of his mouth did he consider how bad what he'd just said sounded. Kinda like he was holding her captive. Keeping her under this thumb, in order to have his naughty way with her. His naughty, wicked way.
"Oh, good!" Jasmine said, her voice animated. "How is she? Can I talk to her?"
"Tell her it's 'may,'" said a drowsy voice from the bed. "May I talk to her."
Mitch turned to see Tu smiling dreamily and cuddling a fluffy pillow. When he'd purchased the family business and estate from his father fifteen years before, Mitch had removed all frivolous decor in the guest rooms. That had all been his mother's doing, and while he had loved her when she was still alive and cherished her memory, he never understood why she loved so much frippery in what should be a mostly functional space, like a guest bedroom.
So, he had outfitted the eight spare bedrooms with plain white bed stuffs. Petunia was now cozied under a white duvet, with nice, white pillows to cushion her possibly concussed head. The stark white highlighted her pure, unspoiled beauty. And somehow, when his back was turned, she'd removed her sweater and tossed it on the floor. Next to it, her jeans sprawled on the carpeted floor, legs flopped in different directions.
What was even more interesting than this new development was the fact that her top half was apparently bare, save for two very thin straps of fabric over her shoulders, which he thought was probably some kind of undershirt. She had the duvet tucked under her armpits. Her brown skin on a sea of white bed coverings had the effect of placing a chocolate truffle in the middle of a white tabletop. Her skin was smooth and soft looking, and he wanted to touch her. His dick wanted to sink into her soft, warm, brown goodness, too, and that was not good. Mitch turned around again quickly.
"Hey," Tu yelled at his back. "Is that my sister? Is that Jazzy? I want to talk to her!"
Shit. Tu and Jazzy wanted to talk to one another. Mitch wanted to call the doctor, then go to bed. Plus, Mitch preferred not to get close enough to the cute little temptress to hand her the smartphone. What if she brought up kissing again?
"Actually, your sister bumped her head, and I had planned to call the doctor in town to see whether there was anything I needed to do for her," Mitch said into the smartphone, hoping the sister would go along with this.
"Huh," said Jasmine. "We were waiting up to make sure she made it okay, so we'll just go to bed now. Tell her I'll talk to her later."
Tu heard this exchange and whined loudly, then flopped on her back. Her braids spread on the linens like a child's illustration of sun rays. Her luscious breasts bobbed and jiggled under the top with the thin straps. He thought it was white at first, but now he could see it better, and it was the palest pink. Mitch realized with interest and alarm that only unfettered breasts moved around like that. His cock caught up only a second or two after his brain figured this out, and he went as stiff as a tire iron.
Not good. This was sooo not good.
Now the little vixen was making to fling back the fluffy duvet. Could his heart take the sight of her uncovered legs? Did he want to see what her panties looked like?
Yes, said his dick; no, said his brain.
Too young. Too sweet. Too friendly. Not for you, old man. Not for you.
He leaped at the bed, planting two fingers on her chest and giving her a gentle push back before she could get out of bed and…
Tu whined again, complaining, "I want to talk to my sister!" and punched the duvet. The motion revealed the slightest hint of dark, dark brown areola, and Mitch was pretty sure he might just faint.
"I'll have her call you tomorrow," he blurted into the smartphone and hung up on Jasmine. Then, he called Dr. Johnson at the Perdition hospital. Dr. Johnson was semi-retired and often on night duty at the hospital, allowing some of the younger doctors to be home with their children overnight.
Mitch set up a video call with the good doctor, described
Tu's symptoms, and checked for a lump on her head at the doctor’s advice. Tu at first grumbled as he poked his sausage-sized fingers under her braids, then moaned as if enjoying a good head scrubbing at the salon. Mitch clenched his teeth, surprised he didn't grind his molars into a fine powder. There was a biggish lump right around the crown of her head. He held the smartphone close to Tu's face so the doctor could see her pupils.
"She seems fine to me," said Dr. Johnson with the demeanor of a country doctor who has been around the block. "I know the roads are bad. Is she staying the night with you?"
Mitch grumbled a few choice words under his breath.
Yes, yes, she is.
Dr. Johnson was frowning at him, waiting for him to reply.
"I can't get her into town tonight," he said, feeling tense and unhappy. "She'll stay overnight in one of the guest rooms."
Dr. Johnson chuckled. "I'm thinking it's going to be longer than that," she said. "The forecast is predicting snow off and on all week!"
Mitch was not happy to hear this information, and he frowned.
"Anyway," Dr. Johnson said. "I think she's probably fine, but to be on the safe side, I'm gonna suggest you check on her every couple of hours."
"Check on her?" he said, his usual bass coming out in a squeak. His mind thought through how he might do this without actually, uh, checking on her.
"Yes," the doctor said. Mitch started pacing with agitation.
Maybe he could set up a remote camera? Have a small drone fly up to the third floor to monitor her? Which of these choices was the least naughty?
"All you have to do is make sure you can rouse her," said Dr. Johnson. "You know, every couple of hours during the night."
Rouse her. Rouse. Her. Oh, he could rouse her...
Mitch felt a tightening in his gut, then a similar one in his groin. He turned off the video because Dr. Johnson didn't need to see him have a sexual meltdown.
"Okay, fine," he said gruffly. "I'll do that. I'll talk to you later, uh, in a few hours, okay? Bye."
Mitch had his back to Tu. He could hear her breathing behind him. Moving around in the bed. He suspected she was probably looking at him, her beautiful, doe brown eyes large and expectant. The heavy denim of his jeans would do much to contain his state of arousal. If he had been naked, his dick would be perpendicular to his body.
Her Mistletoe Minotaur: A BWWM Paranormal Holiday Romance (A Very Alpha Christmas Book 1) Page 3
