by Shyla Colt
I place a few bottles of red wine into the cart. It’s important to start with the essentials.
“Stop.” A hushed whisper draws my attention from the cornucopia of crisp bags I’d been trying to decide between
“No. You’re being ridiculous. We need to go home.”
“And leave Monty to fend for himself? No. This is all your fault anyway.”
The male voice guffaws. It’s embarrassing to hear the spat. I try to tune them out, but their volume increases.
“How? You were the one who was distracted.”
“Yes, by you showing up, uninvited might I add, and arguing with me.”
“I’m sorry if the thought of my pregnant fiancée sitting alone on Christmas Eve bothered me.”
“Ex ... and I was exactly where I wanted to be.”
The sound of feet scuffling against the ground makes me tense. Is he putting his hands on her? I tense. I’ve seen the effects of domestic violence on friends. When we turn a blind eye, we’re all to blame. I push my cart forward, positioning myself in an aisle where I can see them from a distance. The blond brute towers over the smaller woman with inky black hair spilling out from underneath her pale pink cap. The white and pink pom-pom on the top makes me smile.
“Stop this.” The man grabs her wrist and spins her to face them.
She places her hands on his chest and steps back. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you stop this foolishness. The storm is kicking up, and you need to be at home.”
“With you, right?”
“Clearly, you can’t take care of yourself. I mean, look at where we are now. How are you going to raise a baby alone if you can’t even handle—”
Her hand moves so fast I can barely track it. Smack. Her bare palm meets his cheek. His head snaps back, and he blinks. His eyes darken, and he tightens his grip. She winces, and I make my move.
“Is there a problem here?” I force my way in between the two of them, and she twists her wrist and stiffens her hand, causing his hold to break.
“Excuse me?” the man asks.
“The lady made it clear she didn’t want to leave with you, and you’ve pushed the issue.”
“Listen, mate,” he mocks my accent, “you should mind your business. We’re fine.”
I glance at the woman watching me with her large, doe-shaped, hazel-colored eyes. “Is that true, miss?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Are you serious?” he hisses, stepping forward.
I hold my hand up, forcing him back.
“I want you to leave. You’ve done enough,” the woman whispers, looking down at the ground.
“This isn’t over.”
“It is tonight,” I say.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store.” A manager appears to the right of the bickering couple.
“Do you know who I am?” Preston asks, standing taller.
“A man harassing a pregnant woman in the middle of the store on Christmas Eve,” the manager says in an unimpressed tone.
The tow-haired man’s face reddens. “Fine.” Stepping back, he spins on his heel and stalks away.
The woman covers her face and exhales. “I am so sorry.”
“You should never apologize for his bad behavior,” I say.
“Are you sure you’re okay, ma’am?” the manager asks, stepping forward.
“Yes.” She places her hand over the small swell of her belly. “I just came here for tape.”
“We can get you that,” the manager assures her.
Smiling, she shakes her head. “Thank you both. His bark is worse than his bite, I swear.”
“Do you need to file a report?” I ask.
“There’s nothing illegal about being an asshole, or I would.” She shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”
I hesitate. If I had a woman like this one expecting my child, I wouldn’t dream of treating her that way. She squeezes my arm, and the blood rushes straight down. I swallow and think of the cold waiting for me outside. What kind of pervert gets a hard-on for a pregnant woman he just rescued from an asshole ex? Apparently, me.
“Well, Happy Christmas then.” I nod and push my cart away before I embarrass myself. Maybe I need something more substantial than wine tonight. I whittle down time, placing things I don’t need in my cart until the woman leaves. When her black SUV pulls out of the parking lot, I head to the front, assured the asshole blond wasn’t lurking outside in wait.
“Well, it’s a Christmas Eve to remember, that’s for sure,” the dark-haired cashier says. The white ball on the tip of her Santa hat sways as she shakes her head.
“I can’t say I’ve ever had one like it before.”
“You’re lucky then. The holidays always bring the crazy out in people.” She continues to ring up and bag my items with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “It was nice of you to step in.”
“I was just doing what any decent bloke would do.”
“You’d think that. But I know better. That’ll be $56.78.”
I hand over my credit card and glance at the snow falling faster outside. Gathering my bags, I offer the tired cashier a smile.
“Happy Christmas.”
“Same to you.”
I crank the heat inside of the car, letting it warm up before I pull out of the parking space and ease onto the slick streets. I’m nearly home when a tiny shape darts out into the road.
“Damn it.” I can’t leave any animal out there. Pulling to the side of the road, I park and step out, scanning the quickly growing snowdrifts. A flash of brown and black catches my eyes. I follow the prints illuminated by my headlights. They step under a bench. I duck down cautiously, unsure of the animal’s state of mind. The tiny beagle peers up at me warily.
“What are you doing out here, bud?” I kneel down, ignoring the cold seeping into my trousers.
“Can you come here?” The pup cranes its neck and scoots forward. “That’s it. You don’t want to stay out here in the cold, do you? No.” I keep my tone even as I hold out my hand. The pup sniffs my fingers a few times before he licks them. “I’m taking that as personal approval. Let’s get you warm.” Scooping him up into my arms, I move back to my car. I don’t have anything for a puppy.
“Looks like we’re headed back to another store, but you’re worth it.” I lift him up before wrapping him with the blanket I keep in the backseat. “Huh, boy? I wonder who you belong to.” He has a collar but no tag to identify him. “I bet someone is worried about you.” Unless he’s an abandoned Christmas gift. It happens more than people would imagine, but not until a little after the holidays usually.
“Neither of us will be alone for Christmas now.”
Chapter Two
Faye
I lower my head and ignore the flurries hitting the small sliver of skin left bare around my eyes. They’re melted as soon as they land by the heat of my skin and the tears I can’t stop shedding. I’ve had Monty for less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve already lost him. My chest aches as another sob builds. I’d been plastering the streets with lost posters for the past two hours, pausing only to thaw out in my car. I could call Warren, but the shame stops me. I don’t want to pull him away from the family or admit how incapable I am. One minute, Monty was chasing his tail, circling around my ankles, and the next, he streaked out of the gap in the door Preston created as he tried to shoulder his way in.
I might’ve caught him if Preston hadn’t blocked me with his massive frame. I’d never felt so powerless in my life. By the time I shoved him out of my way, my new puppy was long gone. The precious time I wasted going back to get my jacket and boots allowed him to run even farther. I couldn’t blame him for fleeing when Preston had been yelling like a maniac. Just thinking about the infuriating man had me seeing red. Taking a deep breath, I staple another poster onto a telephone pole and move back toward my car.
The muscles in my lower back throb and I feel chilled to the bone. I can’t keep this up much l
onger. It’s not healthy for the baby or me. But the thought of Monty out there alone is a physical ache I can’t ignore. Trudging back through inches of snow, I slide into my car and peel the gloves from my stiff fingers. Rubbing my palms together, I hold them up to the hot air shooting from the vents. I could try driving around, but visibility against the white snow still coming down was poor at best. I have to do something.
Sufficiently warmed, I pull out of the parking lot and onto the street, driving slowly as I circle the neighborhood watching for any signs of Monty. My phone rings, and I frown at the unfamiliar number. Answering via Bluetooth, I know I’m going to lose it if it’s a telemarketer.
“Hello?”
“Is this Faye?”
What is it with delicious-sounding British men tonight?
“You called me. Shouldn’t you know?”
“Right. My name is James, and I think I found your dog, Monty.”
“Oh my God.” My voice catches in my throat. “Is he okay?”
“Scared, cold, and hungry, but I’ve warmed him up and given him some food.”
“He’s just a puppy. You didn’t give him regular dog food, did you?”
He chuckles. “It just so happens that I’m a veterinarian, so I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.”
“Jesus. You must think I’m a horrible dog mom.”
“I’m not here to judge. I’m just happy he’s safe.” He clears his throat. “Though I have to ask why he’s got no identification.”
“I just got him today. The person who came over wasn’t aware I had a dog, and once he was startled, he was off like a flash.”
“Beagles are faster than they look.”
“Yeah. I’ve learned that.”
“Well, I know it’s Christmas Eve. So, if you want to arrange to pick him up tomorrow sometime—”
“No.” I clear my throat. “It was just going to be the two of us this evening, and I really need to see him.”
“Okay.” His voice softens. “I can give you my address.”
Monty yips in the background. Relief flows through me.
“I’m in the car. Can you drop me a pin?”
“I can. How long have you been out searching?”
“Since four.”
“That’s no way to spend Christmas Eve.”
“I think Monty had it worse.”
My phone chimes.
“Okay, I got your pin. I’ll be there in the next thirty minutes.”
“I’ll see you then.”
We disconnect, and the knot in my stomach loosens. It’s going to be okay. I’ll get Monty back, head home, and forget the last couple of hours happened.
AS I PULL UP TO THE white, two-story home with the gray and black stone accents on the bottom, I whistle. How much does a vet make yearly? Pulling into the driveway behind a forest green truck, I put the car into park.
He works on animals for a living, and he rescued a dog from the snow. So, he can’t be entirely awful, right? My mind flashes to Preston, and I cringe. What looks good on paper doesn’t always translate well into real life. I pat my purse reassuringly, thinking of the pepper spray I keep on hand. I’ll go in, thank him, and abscond with my dog. Simple.
Exiting the car, I rush up the walk, grateful for the porch that blocks the wind as I ring the doorbell and wait. The door swings open, and my jaw drops.
“It’s you,” we say at the same time. The insanely attractive, green-eyed man with brownish blond hair that falls artfully across his brow who saved me earlier is standing in front of me with Monty against his chest.
“Faye?” he whispers.
I nod dumbly. The man has caught me in two of the most embarrassing situations of my life. Can I please melt into a metallic puddle like Alex Max and disappear?
“James?”
“Yeah. Wow. What are the odds?”
“Very low.”
“Please, come in out of the cold.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just—” The baby chooses to sit on my bladder, and my choice is taken away. “Do you have a bathroom?”
His eyebrows fly up.
“The baby seems to think my bladder is a bounce house, so ...”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s just down the hall, second door on the right.” He waves me in, directing me like an air traffic controller with sticks.
“Thank you.” Quickly stripping off my boots, I step out onto the carpet and beat a hasty retreat to the restroom. I can already tell I’m going to have my hands full with the little girl inside of my belly. “You had to choose now to woman handle Mom’s bladder? I was trying to make a smooth getaway, little girl.” I rub the bulge fondly as I step into the bathroom and close the door behind me.
After handling my business, I wash my hands and admire his cleanliness. From what I’ve seen, his house is more than neat. It’s orderly and spotless. He is a doctor, though. Still, his room could be a gross disaster. This is just the area he’d expect others to see. My experience with Preston has left me wary of others. That’s one of the things I hate most about our break up. I can heal my heart, but I can’t change my new perceptions.
I step into the hallway. The sound of metal on metal makes me jump. I cry out, and the baby jerks inside of me. Grabbing my stomach, I try to calm my racing heart.
“Faye.” James is by my side, gently gripping my arm.
“I’m sorry. W-We were both startled.” I place a hand over my heart.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod.
“Come on, let’s get you onto the couch, and I’ll see what the hell that was.” He ushers me over to the navy-blue couch. I give a grateful moan as the cushion gives me a soft hug.
“Here.” He moves a footstool over and props my feet up.
“You don’t have to—”
“You’re growing a human. Whatever you want is yours when it comes to me.”
My eyes widen. Where did this guy come from? Oh, that’s right, Britain, according to his accent.
A small bark reaches my ears. I smile down at Monty, who rests his paws on the cushion beside my legs.
“You gave me a scare, you naughty little thing.” I scoop him up and onto my lap. “No more of that, okay? Your mama can’t take it.”
His subdued yip sounds repentant.
“You should be sorry.” I bop him on the nose and use a stern voice. He whimpers.
“Faye?”
“Yes.” I turn to find James standing in front of his window. “I have good news, and I have bad news.”
“Give me the good news.”
“The streets have been cleared.”
“That’s excellent. I was sliding on my way in. What’s the bad news?”
“They took out a few cars on the street, and your car was one of them.”
“What?” I sit up and scoot to the edge. Ignoring the exhaustion trying to settle in, I push up off the couch and come to stand beside him. I cover my mouth with my hand and gasp at the twisted, dented metal that was once my car.
“You have insurance, right?”
“Yes, but this won’t be an easy fix.”
“No, but it’s the city’s fault, so there’ll be no contest. If we need footage for proof, I have a camera outside that I’m sure captured it.”
My head drops. I hug my belly as tears flood my eyes.
“I know this isn’t what either of us planned, but to be honest, it beats my plans for spending Christmas alone. I’ve been told I make for decent company.”
I glance over at him, and he offers up a tentative smile. My lower lip trembles as I give him a watery smile.
Monty barks.
“See, he agrees. We can make the best out of the situation. How about we start things off by feeding you. Everything is better on a full stomach.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
My stomach rumbles loudly. “Flora does not feel the same way.”
He smiles, and his eyes lighten to a jade hue. “Flora? Is that her name?”
I nod shyly. “If I win the battle with the ex. He wants to name her Brigette.”
James’ mouth forms an O. I admire the pucker, eying the full bottom lip that begs to be sampled. “That is a mouthful.”
“What else can I expect from a Preston?”
James coughs to cover a laugh. “Those are your words, not mine.”
“How incredibly P.C. of you, James. Can I ask where you’re from?” I toss my hair over my shoulder and angle my body toward his. Why am I flirting? Oh, because he’s freaking gorgeous with a panty-melting accent.
“London originally.”
“I thought so. I’m pretty good at deciphering accents.”
“Good on you.” He winks.
My breasts swell for a completely different reason than pregnancy. I press my thighs together and look out the window.
The street cleaner had gotten out of his vehicle and begun to locate the owners of the cars.
“It’ll be a while before they get to you. I don’t want you standing out in the cold.”
His words warm me. You’re pregnant, don’t read too much into things. Of course, his instinct is to take care of you. It’s built into their D.N.A. Except, Preston seems okay leaving you alone for long stints of time while he sets up his new life in California. Everything he does is antagonistic and calculating.
“Hey.” James runs his warm hand down my arm. “Are you okay?” It’s calloused. A hand that belongs to a hard worker.
“Yes, sorry. Just thinking.” My stomach protests like an angry monster.
“I think the little lady wants more food and less thought.” His lips turn up at the corners, and I giggle. He’s sweet, with biceps that stretch out his black Henley and big hands that make me wonder if his large feet are a proper prediction of what’s under his gray sweatpants.
