"So, you plan on returning to Woodfalls anytime soon? I mean, for other than the holidays?" he asked, adjusting me in his arms.
"Not with the rate I'm going," I muttered, keeping my face averted from his.
He started to answer until we both heard a vehicle approaching in the distance. Grant gently stood me up and we waved our arms to get the driver's attention.
A pickup truck much like June had suggested we needed slowed to a stop on the side of the road. "You folks need some help?" the driver asked after opening his door.
"Yes, sir," Grant answered, walking toward him.
The large burly bear of a man stepped from the truck. He stood easily at six and a half feet tall. Grant was tall, and even he looked miniature next to this stranger. The nickname "Refrigerator" would have suited him well. Dressed in a flannel shirt that was rolled up to reveal massive forearms, he looked like a lumberjack, or in my mind, a serial killer.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked under my breath. "He might be some crazy mountain-man killer."
"Nah, he has to be cool. He has a Pittsburg Steelers flag in his back window."
"Even more reason not to trust him. Everyone knows the only people you can trust are Bills fans."
"You know football?" Grant asked.
"Um, hello?
I was born in Woodfalls," I joked. Football and Woodfalls came as a package. With not a whole lot else to get excited about in a town the size of Woodfalls, football was practically a religion. To say you didn't like football was pretty much sacrilegious, and were considered fighting words. Fridays were spent traveling to high school games since our school didn't have a home field. Saturdays we watched college ball, and Sundays, of course were all about the Buffalo Bills. Even after almost five years away from Woodfalls, football was still in my blood.
"I'm Tim," the stranger introduced himself. "My wife, June, thought you folks might need a hand. She said you had it in your heads to drive some Barbie car in this storm," Tim said, opening the passenger door so Grant could set me
down on the seat. My misgivings were put to rest. Of course June sent him out to check on us.
"Barbie car.
Ha, that's not far off," Grant laughed, sliding in beside me. I sighed with pleasure at the warm air coming from the vents.
"How long you folks been walking?"
"Just over an hour. I think our car is about three miles up. We slid off the road. Then poor Jamie here stepped in a hole. I'm not sure if she broke her ankle or just sprained it, but we had to leave the bag I was carrying. I'd sure appreciate it if you would let me collect it."
"Not a problem at all. We'll also check on your car."
"That would be wonderful," I said. It would be great to have a change of clothing. I pulled my gloves off so I could hold my hands in front of the vents. I had been so preoccupied in Grant's arms I didn't realize how cold I was.
It took Tim less than two minutes to spot our bag on the side of the road where we had left it. Grant jumped from the vehicle to retrieve it. He brushed off the snow and handed it me to hold on my lap with my purse. When he climbed back into the truck, he was careful not to bump my ankle, which had started throbbing now that it was no longer elevated over his arm.
"Our car should be pretty close from here," Grant said, closing his door hard.
"How's your ankle feel, missy," Tim asked, shifting the truck from first to second gear.
"I'm not sure to tell you the truth, but I know it hurts," I admitted, grimacing.
"I'll bet. Don't worry. Doc Jones will get you
fixed up."
Grant and I both burst out laughing. Tim shot us a look like we'd lost our minds.
"Sorry," I said between giggles. "We have a Doc Jones in the town we grew up in. We were just saying how much Whisper Hollow reminds us of home."
"I'll be darned.
Small town, huh? Nothing wrong with that," Tim said like we had just declared we were all members of the same secret society. "Would you look at that. She was right. I think my grandkids have remote control cars bigger than that," Tim stated, pulling onto the shoulder of the highway. I was surprised to see our car covered with a blanket of snow that easily was six inches deep. I had no idea the snow had been coming down that hard while we were walking.
"Yeah, it definitely wasn't our first choice, but it was all they had at the airport," Grant replied, climbing from the vehicle. He took the plastic bag with him, saying he would grab the rest of my stuff. I blushed slightly thinking about him seeing the bras and panties I had tried to hide between my sweaters. Hopefully he would leave everything folded and just add it to the bag.
The guys made quick work of grabbing the rest of our things, but by the time Tim turned the truck around, Mother Nature had kicked it up a notch. We were in an all-out blizzard. Even with chains on the tires, Tim had to grip the steering wheel and reduce our speed to a near crawl. We all remained silent so Tim could concentrate on the treacherous conditions. When we finally turned off the highway and drove into the Whisper Hollow town limits, we couldn't have been any more relieved.
"We don't have a hotel here, but our niece runs a real nice bed and breakfast," Tim said, turning down a road a half mile off the exit. The town of Whisper Hollow came into view and the homesickness I had been feeling for Woodfalls returned again. I had fought my mom this year on coming home for Christmas, but at the moment I would do anything to be driving down Main Street in Woodfalls, surrounded by friends and family who all loved me. Instead, I was stuck several states away in a strange town with the last person I would have ever expected to be stranded with.
Whisper Hollow looked to be half the size of Woodfalls, although I'm sure they had their areas that stretched beyond the little town we were driving through. With the blanket of snow covering it, the town resembled something you would see on a Christmas card. Especially since everything was completely decked out for Christmas like the diner had been.
"I'll drop you off here at the B&B first and then send Doc your way," Tim said, pulling behind a large Victorian house with long sweeping porches on the first and second floors. A huge Christmas wreath hung from the highest eve of the house while lighted garland draped the porch railings on both levels.
"Thank you so much. We can't thank you enough," I said to Tim.
"I'm happy to help, darling. Let's get you two inside."
"This is beautiful. Magical," I breathed as Grant opened the truck door and swept me back up into his arms. My eyes met his only to see he was studying me the way he had earlier when he told me I had a snowflake on my nose. I waited for a teasing comment or for him to make some joke since that was his norm, but he did neither. His eyes moved to my lips. Unconsciously, I dragged my bottom lip between my teeth, not wanting to admit how long I had dreamed about what his lips would feel like on mine. I shouldn't want them. He had all but declared that serious relationships weren't for him. Maybe something casual could work. Just this once.
Tim interrupted the moment when he rounded the vehicle carrying our bags. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. With me tucked into his arms, Grant trailed behind Tim as they climbed the four shallow steps to the front porch.
A bell chimed above the front door as Tim pushed it open. The foyer opened up to reveal a large grand staircase that greeted us as we stepped into the warm space that smelled like cinnamon and sugar cookies.
"Uncle Tim, what are you doing out in a storm like this?" a plump, pleasant-looking woman who looked to be in her early thirties asked, stepping into the foyer.
"Hey, Mags. These kind folks here ran into some trouble with the storm. Do you have any rooms available? I know you have that crew here from Georgia who come every year, but I thought maybe you could squeeze 'em in," Tim said, sliding his arms around his niece's shoulder. "Grant and Jamie, this is my niece, Maggie. Or Mags to those of us who watched her grow up from being a peanut. Maggie, this is Grant and Jamie." He finished the introductions with a nod in our direction.
"It's nice to meet you two. I expected to see you earlier after Aunt June called today," she said, reaching out to shake our hands, which was a bit awkward since I was still in Grant's arms. "You're in luck. I had a cancellation on the Washington room," she said, wiping her hands on her Christmas apron that was
covered in flour. "Are you on your honeymoon?" she asked, probably wondering why Grant hadn't put me down yet.
Her question was simple enough to answer, but for some reason, it suddenly felt like the white elephant in the room. I dared not look at Grant, afraid of the mocking that was sure to be there. Knowing him, he'd come up with some kind of joke at my expense. To beat him to the punch, I jumped in with the first thing that popped into my head. "Hell no," I all but shouted, hearing myself echo in the small foyer. An uncomfortable silence filled the room and I wouldn't have blamed Grant if he dropped me on my ass.
"I mean, I hurt my ankle," I finally said, finding the rational answer. "That's why my
friend
Grant is carrying me."
"Oh, you poor thing.
Let me show you up to your room," she said, grabbing an old-fashioned looking key off an elegant key rack that hung next to the small reception desk. "Do you want me to call Doc Jones, or are you going to go get him?" she asked Tim.
"I'm going to fetch him. That ole pickup truck of his has been giving him some issues. I keep telling him it's time to drive to the city to get a new model. You know him though. He feels if he fiddles with it a little, it'll be good as new."
"That's Doc for ya. He feels there ain't nothing broken that can't be fixed," Maggie told us with twinkling eyes as she headed for the staircase. "I'll get these two settled in then," she threw over her shoulder.
Grant followed behind her with me still tucked in his arms, which I was thankful for. After my slip of the tongue, he could have left me in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.
Maggie led us down a long hallway, stopping at the last door at the end of the hallway. She inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. "Welcome to the Washington Honeymoon Suite," she said, holding her arms out in a grand gesture.
"Oh hell," Grant mumbled under his breath.
Turning my head, I took in the room.
Our
room. For a honeymoon suite, it definitely lived up to its name. Maggie got a fire started in the massive fireplace that was across from a king-sized sleigh bed, which would have dominated the space if not for how large the room was. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered the walls on either side of the fireplace. As beautiful as the room was, my eyes only seemed to be able to focus on the one bed.
"You folks were actually pretty lucky. This storm made it impossible for the newlyweds who paid for this room to make it. They decided to fly to Bermuda instead, but that means all the amenities they bought are now yours," Maggie said, pointing to a bottle of champagne that was chilling by the fireplace next to a platter of decadent chocolate-covered strawberries. I would have laughed if the whole situation didn't seem so ridiculous. How did I go from flying home for the holidays to being laid up in a honeymoon suite with my high school crush?
"This is fantastic," Grant said in a strangled voice, depositing me on the bed and backing up toward the door. "I better go see if the doctor is here," he said before fleeing from the room.
Maggie looked at me questioningly as I burst out laughing. "He's a bit of a commitment-phobe," I said, though it really wasn't funny. I had officially lost it.
"How long have you two been dating?" Maggie asked, taking my jacket and hanging it in the closet.
"Oh, no, we're not dating," I said, leaning back against the stack of pillows that lined the headboard. "We went to school together. It just so happens we ran into each other on our way home for the holidays. The funny thing is the trip has turned into something right out of the movies."
"That sounds like an interesting story."
"You could put it that way, but it's almost more appropriate to call it a disaster story," I admitted, launching into an explanation of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Maggie found the retelling of our
adventure extremely humorous. We were both laughing when Grant returned with the doctor.
"Hello, young lady, I'm Doc Jones," the elderly gentleman said, holding out his hand. "I heard you hurt your ankle playing in the snow," he added, winking at me.
"That's one way to put it," I answered as Maggie giggled again. I grinned back, which turned into a laugh when Grant looked at both of us like we had sprouted an extra head. Doc Jones paid no attention as he moved to the foot of the bed where my sore ankle was propped up over a stack of pillows.
"The first thing I'm going to do is remove your boot, which will cause some discomfort," he said, tugging on my boot. Discomfort was a total understatement. I wanted to yell the whole dictionary of curse words, but I didn't want to shock everyone in the room. I leaned back against the pillows, panting as the doc examined my foot. I tried to appear tough for my audience, but all I really wanted to do was cry. My ankle, which had been merely throbbing, now felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. Only when I heard Maggie clucking her tongue sympathetically did I raise my head off the pillows so I could peer at my right ankle. I studied it critically, not believing it was mine. It was easily twice its normal size, if not bigger. The most startling aspect was the color. The normal creamy tone of my skin was gone and replaced by an icky rainbow of blues, blacks and purples that all blended together into a bright swollen mess.
I sank back against the pillow again as Doc Jones continued to probe at the monstrosity that was now my ankle. I knew he was being gentle as he could, but it felt like he was running it through a meat grinder. I turned my head from the others as a tear crept out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to tell him he was examining a swollen ankle, not working in a pottery class.
"Well, I'm ninety-nine percent sure it's just a really bad sprain, but I'm going to wrap it good until we can get X-rays done to make sure. The closest hospital is twenty miles away, but we should wait until the storm has passed," he said, pulling a bandage from his bag. By the time he was done, a thin layer of sweat had beaded up on my forehead, but the pain was at least bearable now that the ankle was wrapped.
Finally, when my foot was propped up again, I looked over at Grant, who had remained stoically silent during the examination.
"Maggie, dear, will you get Jamie something to drink for her pain pills?" Doc Jones asked, pulling out a sample pack of pills. "These will help with the pain and might make you a little loopy, so no alcohol," he said, looking pointedly at the champagne.
"Can't I just take ibuprofen?" I asked, not liking the idea of taking pain pills with Grant around. Especially if they were supposed to make me loopy.
"Ibuprofen should work tomorrow, but for tonight you're going to want to take these," he said, popping two of the pills out of the pack.
Maggie handed me the glass of ice water she had poured from the ceramic pitcher on the highboy dresser. She winked at me as Doc handed over the pills. She knew why I didn't want to take them.
I stuck my tongue out at her before dropping the pills into my mouth. She laughed as she headed for the door. "I better go check on supper. Are you up to joining us in the dining room, or would you like me to bring a tray up?" she asked me.
"I'd like to join you if that's okay," I said, looking at the doctor questioningly.
"As long as you keep your foot propped up, that will be fine," he said, closing his bag.
"Would you like to join us, Doc?" Maggie asked. "I made pot roast," she added, trying to entice him.
"Damn, I sure hate passing up your pot roast, but June and Tim already invited me over for dinner. You know
it's dang near impossible for me to turn down June's chicken pot pie," he said, smiling at Grant and me. "You take it easy, young lady. I'll come back tomorrow evening to check your ankle," he said, heading for the door.
"Wait, what do I owe you?" I asked.
"Think nothing of it. Maybe one day you'll pass through again and take me out for a fancy dinner," he said, winking at me before leaving the room.
"I can't believe how nice everyone has been," I said, completely perplexed.
Grant laughed. "I know, right? But you know what? I'd like to think anyone in Woodfalls would do the same thing if two strangers like us needed a hand. Maybe when we get home we can think of some way to pay them back."
"That can't happen soon enough, let me tell you. Tomorrow we're calling the rental company and figuring out a way to get us another car so we can get home.
"You know we're going to have to wait until the storm passes, right?" Grant said, snagging two of the strawberries off the tray. He handed me one before popping the other in his mouth.
I gaped at him for a moment, ignoring the strawberry.
"What?" he asked at my guppy-like expression.
"We're not leaving tomorrow?"
"Jams, have you missed the blizzard outside? We're not going anywhere until it passes and they clear the roads. Tim was saying it could be Friday."
"But, Christmas is on Thursda
y—
in three days," I said, stating the obvious. There was no way I could spend the next three days holed up in some honeymoon suite with him. "What am I going to do about my mom?" I added.
He sat on the edge of the bed beside me, which momentarily distracted me. Did he have to be so freaking handsome?
He smiled at me. Oh hell, did I say that out loud? It was the damn pills. I could already feel their effect as my brain took on a hazy quality.
"My mom wanted me home for Christmas," I said lamely, trying to cover up what I may or may not have said.
"Jams, I've known your family my whole life and I'm pretty sure your parents would rather you were safe. Plus, you heard Doc Jones. You need to keep your foot elevated."
His words made sense, or at least I thought they did. Just to be safe, I nodded my head. Again, I think I nodded my head. I was finding it hard to concentrate on what we were even talking about. Whatever had been in the pills had broken my brain, but at least I could no longer feel the pain in my ankle.
"Jamie, are you okay?" Grant asked, looking at me with concern.
"I'm okie dokie artichokie," I sang, giggling at my rhyme.
"I'm taking that to mean your pain pills are working," he said, moving around to the other side of the bed.
"Just put it this way. I feeeeeeeeel good," I slurred.
"I bet you do," he laughed, lying back against the pillows. For some reason, his action struck me as funny.
"I've always wanted you in the sack," I blurted out. I sensed that I shouldn't have said that, but my tongue and brain seemed to be working against each other.
"You have, huh?" Grant said, turning on his side. "Do tell."
I tried to focus on his face, but that had become fuzzy too. "Yep, since high school," I answered, closing my eyes. "Because I loooooved you," I sang, smiling at how the words chimed through my head.
Grant said something else, but it took too much effort to decipher. And that was the last thing I remembered.