A Christmas Rescue

by Diane Michaels

  Taara shoulders her bag and waves on her way out the door. I crouch over the whelping box, giving Rosie’s head a thorough scratching before turning my attention to the writhing mass of puppies who jockey for the best sleeping spot next to their mother.

  Taking care of the animals isn’t taxing the way my job is. Nor is organizing the fundraiser. I suppose I have spent hours writing posts, connecting with donors, planning the menu with the caterers, chasing giveaway prizes, and making the decorations. But time flies while I attend to the details. I can’t help but be content as I devote myself to these tasks. Too bad neither activity pays a salary.

  I wish I felt even a modicum of joy while I toil over my translation. It’s due in six days, and I’m a little over halfway finished. I’d be deceiving myself to expect to make any meaningful progress on the day of the fundraiser. I have forty-four pages left. Divided by five days, I’ll need to spend nine hours a day in order to make my deadline. If I do three pages before bed tonight—

  I hear the door to Xave’s truck slam, which is my cue to head home. A short chat with him will turn into something longer, which would sabotage my plan to make a little headway on the translation before bed.

  I give each dog a final pat. “Goodnight, Rosie. Goodnight, Rupert! Don’t forget to share the milk with your brothers and sisters.” I stand up, pivoting on my sneakers to leave the office only to run smack dab into a box. “Ow.” I rub my shoulder.

  Xave peers around the far side of the box in his arms. “Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”

  “My fault. I was on the floor with the puppies. Here let me give you a hand.”

  “No worries. I have it.” He sets the carton in front of the filing cabinet. The tinkling of glass resonates within it. His eyes avoid mine.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “Oh, nothing.” He mashes his lips together, making his jaw ripple.

  I’ve always focused on his cherubic cheeks and the glow of his smile, but he has a stunning jawline, too, one that begs to be traced with a finger or a… Wait. What am I thinking? I have enough on my mind. No need to confuse myself with thoughts of manly facial features on a man who isn’t Brett. “Do you need me to bring in any more boxes?”

  His fingers caress his jaw as if to taunt me. “Um, I suppose I could use your help. Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I offered to help. Why would I be mad at you for accepting my offer?”

  “I’m grateful for your help. No, you’ll be mad at me for a different reason. I bought beverages for the fundraiser.”

  “So, your friend didn’t come through?”

  He evades my stare. “I had forgotten to talk to him until I ran into him earlier today. He can’t send anyone over to bartend. He sold me beer, vodka, and gin at a discount, but I had to spring for the wine at another store. I’ll pay for the additional costs out of my own account. It’s my fault we won’t have specialty cocktails on Saturday.”

  Instinctively, I take a deep breath to avoid showing him any anger. But it’s unnecessary. It’s easy not to be mad at him. On the rare occasions when Brett has let me down, it takes a bit of effort to move beyond my frustration. But now? I’m not bothered. I guess because Xave is spending his money on his fundraiser, I can’t take it personally.

  “We still have his branding, though. We’ll be fine,” I say.

  He smacks the side of his head. “And now, talking about my mistake, I’m reminded of another. I promise I’ll have prizes for your giveaway by tomorrow, OK?”

  Again, I don’t have the impulse to chastise him. With a start, I lift my eyes away from him. I understand why I’m not mad. The situation isn’t personal for either of us. I’ve assigned him tasks that mean nothing to him. He is constantly in motion, running the shelter. It’s not like he blows off work in favor of having fun. Which makes me wonder: how is him ignoring the projects I’ve asked him to tackle any different than me avoiding my job?

  CHAPTER 20

  “I’m sorry for making you feel like you have even more work to do. I know I offered before, but if you give me the details of the people you were going to contact, I’ll follow them up for you.”

  “No, no.” He looks at his watch. “Actually, do you feel like a drive? I think we can achieve both business and pleasure objectives tonight.”

  I don’t know why, but when Xave says the word pleasure, it gives me goosebumps. And I immediately know my translation work will be pushed back yet again.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Don’t you worry, missy. You need to loosen up and go with the flow for a change. I may be disorganized, but I can still get things done when I need to.”

  “At least tell me if there’s a dress code.”

  He looks me up and down, again triggering off some unusual feelings in my body. “You look great no matter what you’re wearing, but you may want to put on a new shirt. I think yours has something on it.”

  I glance down and see that it’s smeared with dirt. Not that I would have worn it into town anyway. “I didn’t mean I was going to wear the clothes I’ve had on all day. Do I have to wear a dress?”

  He laughs. “I don’t think there’s anywhere in town where you have to wear a dress. Just anything you feel comfortable in.”

  “OK. Give me twenty minutes?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you at the car soon.”

  I hurry off, my heart fluttering a little. I really don’t know why. It’s not like this is a date or anything. It’s at least fifty percent business, and the other fifty percent is purely platonic.

  But as I head inside the house and grab a fresh towel to take with me to the bathroom, I wonder if I’d feel better about Brett kissing that woman if I kissed someone else too.

  And then I catch myself. That’s crazy. That would just make things worse. And it would be taking advantage of the person I kissed, which, in this hypothetical situation, would be Xave. That guy should never be taken advantage of.

  I quickly shower and then take longer than I should to pick out my outfit. In the end, I follow Xave’s advice and put on a pair of cut-off jeans with a pale blue off-the-shoulder top. I slide into some white sneakers—shoes I have hardly worn since arriving due to their unsuitable color for an animal shelter—and go in search of my purse.

  Grandma is in the living room, watching an episode of The Real Housewives on TV. My laptop is open on the coffee table in front of her. When I shut it, her eyes bore into mine for a second before she relaxes her expression.

  “Xave and I are off to sort out a few things for the fundraiser,” I tell her.

  She raises an eyebrow. “At eight-thirty on a Tuesday night?”

  “Apparently.”

  She stands up and goes over to the hall table, where she opens a lacquered box. She removes a necklace and hands it to me. “This would look lovely with your outfit. Your collarbone and shoulders are so empty right now.”

  I take the necklace and inspect it. It has red coral beads interspersed with little metallic rods containing a rope-like pattern on each one.

  “This is pretty. Where did you get it?”

  “Oh, I can’t remember now. Somewhere overseas. But please, wear it. You could use a little glamming up.”

  I put it around my neck and check out my reflection in the mirror on the wall. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

  “And you know, don’t rush home on my account. It will be nice to have a night in alone for a change.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you sick of me already? Is this your way of telling me I should go back to Michigan?”

  “Of course not! I love having you here. I just meant that I wanted you to have a lovely night. Enjoy yourself…have a few drinks…maybe even check out one of the nightclubs.”

  Ah. Now I get it. She’s doing the whole matchmaking thing again.

  “Grandma,” I warn.

  She holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m not implying anything. Go. I’ll see you in the morning, either way.”
r />   I roll my eyes and wave to her. “OK. But call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  I go outside and walk over to Xave’s property, looking for where he parked his car. He’s already waiting for me, and my skin tingles. He looks good, all cleaned up and wearing a pair of distressed denim jeans with a gray T-shirt.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. Which is stupid, considering I just talked to the guy a few minutes ago and I’ve seen him every day since I arrived.

  He opens the passenger door to his truck, and I climb in. When he gets in the other side, I can smell his aftershave—a fresh, beachy scent.

  The first five minutes of the drive are pitch-black since the surrounding streets don’t seem to contain any streetlights. Xave puts on a radio station called Triple J, which he assures me is the only station worth listening to around here if I don’t want to subject myself to Top 40 pop or music from my parents’ era.

  I find myself at a loss for words, but Xave seems as relaxed as always. Still, he’s not the kind of guy to talk without purpose, so there’s no conversation until we near Hastings Street, which is close to where we drove the day we went to Tea Tree Bay.

  He parks the truck in a parking lot, and we walk through to the main tourist strip. At night, it’s so beautiful with all the trees covered in fairy lights and the restaurants bustling with people. Some of the shops are still open, selling Australian souvenirs and clothing.

  “I normally avoid this part of town at Christmas,” Xave explains. “But I forget how nice it is to see everything so vibrant.”

  “You don’t see anything like this in Michigan,” I tell him. “I mean, we obviously do Christmas in a big way, but it’s a completely different vibe.”

  And if I’m being honest with myself, the warm tropical air and the sound of the ocean nearby might actually be a match for the snowy festivities back home.

  “Summer has always been my favorite time of year,” he says.

  We walk down the street until we come to a large hotel. Xave ushers me inside.

  A guy is working at the front desk and smiles as soon as he sees Xave. “Hey, buddy. How’ve you been?”

  “Crazy as usual. But I’ve been meaning to set aside a morning to go out for a surf with you.”

  “It’s been pretty flat the last few days, so you haven’t been missing anything.” He looks at me. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Oh, sorry, yeah, this is Hannah. Sheila Walker’s granddaughter. Hannah, this is Jason.”

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Nice to meet you. You over from the States?”

  “Yes. For a few weeks. My grandmother had to have surgery on her shoulder, so I’m helping out a little.”

  “That’s nice of you. So, what brings you here, Xave? I get off in about half an hour if you want to meet up for a drink at Joe’s?”

  “That sounds good, but first I was hoping I could hit you up for a donation for our fundraiser.”

  He mock sighs. “What do you need?”

  “A gift certificate for a surf lesson with you?”

  “Why don’t you offer the lesson?”

  “Because I’m not a world-champion surfer.”

  Jason winks at me. “I guess if you put it that way…”

  “And maybe you could talk to Adrienne about giving away a night’s accommodation?”

  “You don’t want much, do you?”

  “Please? It’s for a good cause.”

  “I know. I’m just messing with you. Leave it with me. When do you need to know by?”

  “Maybe Friday?”

  “As in this Friday?”

  “If that’s OK?”

  “I’ll ask her in the morning.”

  “Thanks, dude. We’ll leave you to finish up. See you at Joe’s.”

  “Cool.”

  We head back out onto the street.

  “Joe’s is up at the other end, so I thought we’d go via the boardwalk.” Xave points to a path that disappears into the trees.

  “OK,” I say, doubtfully looking into the darkness.

  “It’s quite safe, I promise. I have older friends who were in high school in the late nineties, and it sounded like they had some pretty wild parties here in the woods back then. But now there aren’t as many teenagers that live around here.”

  I don’t want to tell him that my nervousness is more about being alone with him than the threat of being pounced on by a bunch of kids.

  We walk through a grove of trees and up onto a path that runs along the edge of the sand. A light breeze brushes my arms, and the salty scent of the ocean tickles my nose.

  I look out to the beach through the trees and vaguely make out the tiny white caps of the almost nonexistent waves lapping at the edge. A couple of lights dot the horizon, and I wonder what kind of boats they belong to. What kind of people are on board?

  “Thanks for talking to Jason,” I say.

  “No problem. I should have done it much earlier.”

  “Is he really a world-champion surfer?”

  “Yep. He had to retire, though, when he wrecked his knee. It doesn’t stop him from still getting out there and surfing better than anyone else I know, but he can’t tour on the circuit anymore.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  “I think he’s fine with it. You just deal with what life gives you and move on.”

  “Is that what you did?”

  He pauses under a palm tree and looks at his feet. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Are you happy with your life now?”

  He looks back up and right into my eyes. “I am now.”

  I’m not sure if he means in general or in this particular moment, but I blush regardless.

  He turns his gaze to the palm branches above us. “The last time I kissed someone was right here.”

  I laugh nervously. “It sounds romantic.”

  “It was. Until she decided she liked one of my friends more.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s fine. It hadn’t gotten to the serious stage yet.”

  He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then his phone buzzes. He glances at the display. “Jason texted the gang, and they’re already at Joe’s. I suppose we should go meet them.”

  I nod, a little disappointed. I wanted to know what he was about to say, but I think the moment’s gone.

  It’s probably a good thing.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Here we go.” Xavier holds the restaurant door open for me. With his free hand, he gives me a gentle push on my lower back. My spine curves from the spark his touch generates.

  The noise level inside induces a second shock, obliterating the confusing yet seductive vibe I felt while walking along the boardwalk with Xave. Listening to the lapping of the waves and with the warm breeze playing in my hair, I had slipped into a trancelike state, fully aware I shouldn’t react to him as if I were on a date but unable to pull away. Here, in a bustling, public space, I remember I have a boyfriend. Regardless of whatever state my relationship may be in, it exists, and I am committed to remaining faithful to Brett.

  “Ah, I see them. Come on.” Xave leads me to the rear corner of the restaurant. Four people lounge on a sectional. One man waves at us.

  A woman slides to the middle of the brown leather couch and pats the spot she vacated. Smiling at me, she says, “Have a seat.” I sink my back into a pillow decorated with an aqua and brown zigzag pattern.

  Xave reaches across the table to shake his friends’ hands. “I want to introduce you to Hannah. She’s here from the States, caring for her grandmother, my next-door neighbor.” He points to a man wearing a puka bead choker and a turquoise shirt that highlights his tan. “This is Cooper, or Coop. Next to him is Maya. You’re sitting next to Beth, and her boyfriend Dane is to her right. I guess Jason will swing by in a few minutes.” I nod and say hi to each person. Xave takes a seat on a padded bench on the opposite side of the coffee
table from me. His face glows from the light of the candles.

  Beth places her hands on my shoulders and glides her cheek next to mine for an air kiss. “Welcome, Hannah. Xavier mentioned you have been helping him at the shelter.”

  He talks about me with his friends? I roll my eyes at myself for making something out of nothing that should matter to me. “My grandmother usually volunteers, but since she’s sidelined with a rotator cuff injury, I’m taking her place.”

  Maya leans forward to pick up her cocktail. “Did she fall? My grandmother fell in her kitchen last year and broke her hip. My mum doesn’t think she’ll ever fully recover.”

  Xavier says, “Sheila’s tough. Nothing can keep her down. She slipped on mossy rocks while returning baby turtles to the sea in Indonesia. The woman leads a more adventurous life than any of us.”

  “Dude, I’m frothin’ to surf Indo. Their waves are cranking.” Coop tilts his beer bottle toward Xave.

  Beth whispers in my ear, “Translation: Cooper is excited to plan a surfing trip to Indonesia because the surf conditions are favorable.”

  “Thanks for deciphering his comments!”

  Her eyes fall below my chin. She reaches for my choker. “Your necklace is gorgeous. Are you trying to get pregnant?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  I shake my head. “My grandmother leant it to me— Wait a second. Is coral supposed to help women conceive babies?”

  She purses her lips. “That I don’t know. But the rope-like metal rods are definitely fertility symbols. I remember learning about them in an anthropology class.”

  Grandma.

  I unlatch the necklace to stash it in my purse. Beth waves me off. “Wear it. It’s pretty. And it takes more than a necklace to make a baby.” I reattach the choker around my neck. She gestures to Xave with her head and flicks her eyebrows at me. “Unless—”

  “Oh, no. I have a boyfriend in the States.”