Page 6 of Christmas By Design

Today is the day Beckett and I are supposed to have our initial meeting with Mrs. Emma Dash, the owner of the historical house in Indiana we’re renovating. We were going to tour the place and get some ideas from her about what she wants for her home. I was going to start the project that was going to finally give me enough money for a down payment on a house.

Now, if I can even make it there, I’ll have to spend the money on a new car. If I didn’t have my kid to cart around, I could take the train into the city every day for work and hold off. Alas, for me, a car is a necessity.

And the worst part about all of this is that Beckett Camdon, Certified Loner Himself, had offered to give me a ride. “Don’t read into it, Woodard,” he had said gruffly after I teased him for being nice. “You’re literally on the way.”

But I had insisted, yet again, that I didn’t need his handouts. I would drive myself, thank-you-very-much. I’m not an idiot. I know what he’s doing. “Spreading some Christmas cheer,” my ass. That man has about as much Christmas cheer in his entire body as I have in my left pinky. He says buying my hot chocolate wasn’t pity, but I know better. And now, he can’t stop himself.

But my fifteen-year-old, two-hundred-thousand-mile Honda has other ideas, apparently. She’s had a good life, this car. She’s treated me well.

I try to get the engine to turn over again, hopeful that after a minute of rest, she’ll come back to life.

No such luck. She’s dead.

I stare out over the dashboard for another minute as I bite my fingernails. I could call roadside assistance and have them tow the car. I’m not that far from home, so I could also call my dad to pick me up. He’s the most wonderful man in the entire world. He’d drive me to Indiana and back without even batting an eye. But a quick glance at the clock tells me I’m already dangerously close to being late. If I have to wait for my dad to come get me, I’ll be rolling in about an hour after I promised to be there. And I can already hear Beckett’s exasperated sigh and see his chiseled features tighten in annoyance.

Nothing left to do but swallow my pride.

I open my phone and tap Beckett’s number before I can think better of it.

I keep chewing my nails as it rings once, twice, three times.

“Woodard,” his growly voice comes over the line. “Let me guess. You’re late.”

“Good morning to you, too, Beckie-Bear.” I cringe silently at that nickname. I started taunting him shortly after I was hired, mostly because he refused to use my first name, so I refused to use his. That, and it was so easy to get under his skin. He’s always so proper and put-together. I figured someone could take him down a peg. Now, it would feel weird if I stopped, but that one wasn’t my best work.

He’s silent for a long moment, and I can hear the sounds of his fancy car flying over the highway. “You needed something?” he asks flatly.

“Um…” I trail off. This is going to hurt, but I’m starting to be able to see my breath now that the heat isn’t running. “Where are you, and do you think you could stop and help a damsel in distress on the shoulder of eastbound I-80?” I try to keep my tone light, but I drop my forehead to the steering wheel as I squeeze my eyes shut. That did hurt. A lot.

He’s silent again, and this time I can cut the tension coming over the line with a knife. He’s not happy about this. I can tell by his heavy breathing.

“What mile marker?” His voice is terse. I wince at the sound of it.

I squint into the rising winter sun. “I can see the exit for Dixie Highway. I think I’m just west of Homewood?”

“It’s your lucky day, Woodard. I’m about ten minutes behind you.” Thankfully, his voice has lost its tightness. It’s not friendly. I’m not sure he’s capable of that. But it’s not irritated.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Great. Awesome. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says and hangs up immediately.

I tilt my head all the way back to bang against the headrest, clutching my phone in my un-gloved hand. Driving to Indiana and back with Beckett Camdon is not how I wanted the day to go, but things could be worse. At least he was on his way, and I’m not stranded.

I give myself an extra minute to take a few deep breaths, then dial my dad’s number. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey Gemmy-bear. Nova is here eating oatmeal. She loves it! Don’t you, Star-baby?”

I can’t help but smile, even despite being broken down on the side of the highway. My dad loves his granddaughter beyond reason. He and my mom are not only my current landlords, but they’re also my daycare. I know how fortunate I am to have them in my corner. Lots of people don’t have the support of their families, and I have it in spades. But it doesn’t make it any easier to ask them for help.

“That’s great, Dad. What flavor is it?” I’m stalling in this sweet moment for as long as I can.

“Strawberries and cream. That was always your favorite, too.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Still is. Listen…” I trail off and bring my nails to my mouth again. They’ll be nonexistent by the end of this project if things keep going this way. “My car broke down on the highway. It’s okay!” I add quickly, before he can get too concerned. “I’m okay. I’ll get it towed. My coworker is a little behind me, so he’s going to pick me up. But the car will probably sit here for a while, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Do you want me to come out there and deal with the tow truck, Bear? I don’t mind. Your mom can stay here with Nova.”

I close my eyes and let out a tight breath. “No, that’s okay. I’ll… deal with it.”