A Critterful Christmas ~ Part 2 by Leah St. James

Layla locked up after the sexy police officer and set the alarm. Then she watched through the blinds while he secured his cat in the front seat of the police department’s vehicle before swiping his hands over the front and back windshields to clear the accumulated snow. That was a man used to the white stuff.

Predictions called for six to ten overnight on top of the six already on the ground. It would be a very white Christmas. Lord how she’d wished for that growing up in Texas. They got occasional winter frost, sometimes ice. Never anything that required knee-high boots to navigate, unless you counted waders for fishing. Neither had she ever had to stow an ice pick in her car to hack her way to the door lock. Had she realized how cold it had to be to snow, she might not have wished so hard. And she might have thought twice before moving to the middle of nowhere in Northeastern Pennsylvania where the average late spring temperatures mimicked the winter lows she was accustomed to.

A shiver worked its way from her shoulders down her spine, and she wrapped her arms more securely around her middle as she made her way toward the kennel area in the back to check on her charges.

Occupancy was light for a holiday, only four dogs. They might be small in number but were sure mighty in volume. Since taking over the veterinary practice a year and a half ago, she’d been full up only once, and that was during the fall, a perfect storm, she’d been told, of deer hunting and football season. People in these parts tended to have family nearby who would care for their pets when they traveled. 

It was a nice little area—big little area in square miles, she corrected herself, but with a friendly small-town feel. The main shopping area was a half mile to the west, home to a beauty salon, indy book store, state liquor store, grocery/pharmacy, as well as a couple convenience store/gas stations and restaurants of the mom-and-pop diner variety with one of the best bakeries she’d ever encountered. The area’s main industry came from the ski slopes ten miles to the north of town. Families flocked from the suburbs to ski the trails in the winter, and frolic in the water park/lakeside resort in the spring and summer. Most of the county’s residents worked there in one capacity or another. And in the past eighteen months, she’d met many of them and their pets. A few had become good friends even if they tended to stick by themselves, especially at holidays.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad life she’d made for herself—just solitary. 

Normally she could handle lonely, even preferred it after five long and excruciatingly boring years with her ex, a man who claimed to love her—and all her pets—to the moon, then demonstrated it by trying to get rid of her most senior cat while she was away at a conference. The creep. She’d gotten home early, just in time to discover he’d taken 15-year-old Charlie to the local shelter. She’d retrieved her cat and booted the man out on his backside, for good.

Figuring her heart had frozen with the temperature in these parts, she hadn’t thought of romance in too many moons to count. But seeing big, brawny Dmitri Jones talking baby talk to his cat had thawed something inside her, and whatever it was had gushed to the center of her heart and made her yearn for more. She’d shut her front door and locked it behind him, but a part of her had wanted to follow, to climb into the SUV with him and his tomcat.

It was a crazy thought, one that made her give herself a mental shake.

Despite that mental shake, an image of his earnestly worried blue eyes as he’d asked for help popped into her mind. Blue eyes, golden blond hair, a chiseled face and body that reminded her of a Viking warrior followed close behind. Sighing, she willed the image away, along with the tsunami of female interest it aroused.

Patting her chest in the region of her heart, she hurried toward the kennel and pushed through the double swinging doors to check on her Christmas Eve charges.

She’d just finished feeding the crew—the big German shepherd, a basset hound, a beagle and a yappie terrier—when the doorbell pealed, and pealed and pealed.

“What the…” she murmured. “Is nobody taught patience anymore?”

She flipped on the lights, hit the alarm code and pulled the door open. 

A man stood there, arms crossed over his chest and shaking like he was palsied. She peered closer. Not a man. A teen, probably 15 or 16. Still young and stupid enough to get himself into real trouble, old enough that it would count. He wore a camouflage jacket and pants, with a mud-colored cap covering muddy brown hair. 

His forehead glistened, and his eyes looked like she’d captured them in a flash—shocky. The dogs’ frenzied barking was probably giving him a massive headache to boot. 

“Ma’am? Is the vet here?” It was the voice of a kid. A scared kid.

 “I’m Dr. Spencer.” She drew her lab coat around her once more, stepped into the frigid air and squinted into the night to look for the injured animal. “Who needs a vet?”

“My dog. We were out hiking and he took off after a rabbit then fell into a hole. I found him and pulled him out but I think he broke his leg. He can’t walk and is whining like he’s in pain.”

“Did you call your parents?”

“I dropped my cell phone somewhere when I was looking for him so started walking for help. Besides, they're out of town.” He gulped. “I need you to come with me. He’s too big for me to carry. Please.”

Something smelled fishy about this kid’s story, but then kids weren’t always the most rational beings. Layla gave him a good, long look. He didn’t look crazy, or high. Just scared…and feverish. She swung the door wide so he could enter. “What’s your name? Do you live around here? I’ll bet your parents don’t know about this, do they?”

His head wagged from side to side and grimaced. “My name is Christian Johnson and I live a mile down the road. Like I said, my parents went to some thing in Philly for the day and—” He lifted his shoulders in a can’t-be-helped gesture.

“Give me their number.”

“Ma’am?” He sniffed and ran a hand under his nose

“You’re obviously a minor and I’m not taking you anywhere without letting your parents know.”

He recited the ten digits, and she placed the call. “No answer.” 

“I told you, they’re not home.”

She held his gaze for a long count, looking for signs of a lie. Kids could be such good liars. “Where is your dog?” 

“I made a shelter for him about half a mile to the north. I tied him there and told him to stay, and now I’m scared he’ll freeze. Or that another animal will get him.” His wobbly voice spurred Layla to hurry to grab her medical bag, coat and boots. She hated to leave the dogs in their crates with no one in the building, but the thought of a wounded animal lying in the cold in the middle of a storm, that was a biggie.

Several minutes later they set off in the direction he pointed. Her little car’s heater pumped out cold air like A/C in the summer while she squinted through the wipers slapping crazily at the windshield. The snow had picked up its pace, and in the back of her mind was the worry they might not make it back. The kid sat next to her, his arms wrapped around himself, teeth chattering. He’d likely been out in the cold for too long. Nothing felt right about this.

After plowing along a bumpy, uphill road, through close to a half a foot of the fluffy white stuff, she pulled to a stop where he pointed at the edge of the lane. Ahead was a rustic lean-to shelter at the edge of a copse of trees. Inside the shelter, a dark shape lay on the ground, motionless.

The boy jerked his chin toward the shelter. “There he is. Please hurry.”

Every molecule begging to stay inside the relative warmth of the vehicle, she pulled up her hood, tied the laces under her chin and stepped into the swirling snow. If she’d thought it was cold on her front porch, this was arctic. Even taking a breath hurt, so she focused on marching one step at a time through the shin-high powder. As she approached, she fumbled with her cell phone to turn on the flash light and shined it toward the figure now ten feet away. It was a large black lab, lying on his side. 

She jogged to him, dropped to her knees and opened her kit. “What’s the dog’s name?” 

“Baxter. He’s ten years old. I’ve had him since—” The boy’s voice broke.

Relief gushed through Layla when she placed the stethoscope over the dog’s chest and picked up a faint heartbeat. “I need you to go to my car. Open the trunk. There are blankets in there. Bring a couple back. Quickly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

While the boy retrieved the blankets, she checked the lab for wounds or other signs of injury. The one leg was swollen, no protruding bones, but the boy could be right. “Come on, Baxter boy, hang in there. We’ve got you now. It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s make this a happy memory, okay?”

After they’d bundled the dog in the blankets, Layla grabbed her phone from her pocket and caught the boy’s gaze. “You’re not in trouble, but I’m calling the police.”

His eyes widened and he gulped. “Why?”

“Like I said, you’re a minor and I need to let them know what’s going on. I should have done this back at the clinic.”

After another gulp, he nodded. Layla hit 9-1-1, but nothing happened. She peered at the phone’s tiny icons. “Crud. No service.”

“Yeah, I could have told you that, Dr. Spencer. We’re at the edge of a wildlife area.” The boy had dropped to his knees and had cradled his dog who’d roused enough to lick his tongue over the tears sliding down the boy’s face.

Her heart melting, she still gave him an eye-roll. “Wise guy.” She repacked her bag. “Let’s get this big boy back to the clinic. I’m calling the police and you’re calling your parents from there. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

By the time they made it back to the car, another inch or so of snow had fallen. She used her arm to swipe it off, as she’d seen Dmitri Jones do, then slid behind the wheel. In front of her was nothing but white, no signs of the road itself. Praying the boy didn’t realize what deep doo-doo they were in, she flexed her hands to ease her death grip on the wheel and eased into the storm. 

“Dr. Spencer, you might want to put it in a lower gear going down the hill.”

“What hill?” Layla afforded herself a quick glance to the rear. Christian was pointing straight ahead.

“It’s a pretty steep pitch, and with Baxter, we’re a good 75 pounds heavier than we were heading up.”

“Right.” Long-forgotten equations involving force, mass and acceleration snarled in her head. “We’ll pick up speed faster.”

“That’s right!” The kid’s tone was half shock and half pride, and she had to smile as she eased off the gas and levered the gear from drive to second. 

For whatever reason, though, her little car didn’t seem to recognize the command. The engine revved a few times and the car jolted forward down the incline that was, indeed, pretty steep. 

Moving to first gear didn’t help. Neither did gently tapping on the brakes. Neither did a full-on foot-slam. The car picked up speed, bumping down the mountain that these people called a hill at an ever-increasing rate. “Crap! Hold on!” Layla yelled as she battled the wheel.

She’d navigated a particularly sinister curve when the car hit bottom with a crunching thud. The force catapulted them sideways, and they started to slide down another steep incline. After executing a tilt-a-whirl move, the car careened into a mountain of white.


.......................

If you missed Part 1 of A Critterful Christmas, you can find it here. I hope you'll come back tomorrow for the story's conclusion.

Leah writes stories of mystery and romance, good and evil, and the power of love. Learn more at her website, or visit her Facebook page where she occasionally posts about writing, her life, her son's cat and more.

What To Do About Joe ~ Part Three by Jannine Gallant

Isabel sat, curled up on the end of the couch, full of the excellent ribs and coleslaw, wondering how this evening was going to end. How she wanted it to end. She liked Joe—a lot. But spending the night with a strange man went against every common-sense instinct she possessed. Even if she was ninety-nine percent certain he was a gentleman who wouldn’t take advantage of her. Then again, she’d believed Marcus the Philandering Jerk was a good guy, too. What did that say about her ability to judge men?

Joe sat down beside her and handed her a mug of coffee. Fragrant steam rose from the cup, and she sniffed deeply before taking a sip.

“It tastes like roasted chestnuts. Christmassy.”

“Holiday flavored creamer.” He leaned back into his corner of the couch and brushed aside the cat’s tail when Tiger swished it across his face from his perch above. “Move it, dude.”

The cat jumped down from the back of the sofa and took a wide berth around Lucky, sprawled in front of the tree, before strolling into the kitchen. Loud crunching ensued.

“The snow let up.”

“It did?” Isabel turned to stare out the window, but it was too dark to see beyond her reflection in the glass. Worried eyes stared back at her. “Do you think they’ll get the freeway reopened?”

“I’m sure they’ll try. It’s Christmas Eve, and people who were hoping to reach their families will want to get back on the road.”

“Maybe I should—”

“What? Go out there to sit in traffic? You still don’t have chains on your tires. It will take a little sunshine in the morning to melt the ice off the roads, even if they do get them plowed.”

“You have a point.”

He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell me your plans for this evening.”

“Huh? Oh, you mean if I’d made it to Las Vegas?” At his nod, she frowned. “Hmm. I probably would have blown a roll of quarters at the slot machines and then maybe soaked in the hot tub for a while, if whatever motel I found that takes giant dogs even has a hot tub. After walking Lucky, I would have returned to my generic room with the TV bolted to the wall to flip through channels before settling down to read a book.”

“As exciting as that sounds . . .”

She set her mug on the coffee table and pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back a snort of laughter. “Continue.”

“I was going to say I can provide all that and more.”

“Do tell.”

He waved toward the tree. “Flashing, colored lights, just like you’d find on the Vegas Strip, plus the ambiance of holiday music playing in the background.”

From the speakers, Springsteen crooned Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.

She hummed along. “Making a list and checking it twice . . . I wonder if I’m on the naughty or nice list.”

He studied her for a moment, his brown eyes growing warmer as heat flared in them. “Definitely nice.”

Isabel squirmed a little, wondering if spending the night with a stranger was really such a bad idea. Finally, she tore her gaze away. “What about the hot tub in my scenario?”

 “I have a jetted tub in the bathroom where you can lounge to your heart’s content. If you want to throw away your money, I’ll even set up a jar near the tub, and you can toss quarters at it. Whatever lands inside, I’ll double, just to keep things interesting.”

She collapsed against the decorative pillows, giggling helplessly. “That sounds so much better than what I had in mind.”

“Darn straight. Here at casa Angelo, we offer the personal touch.” He set his cup beside hers with a thump.

I bet he does. His personal touch was what she was afraid of.

His eyes darkened to an even richer brown, like decadent chocolate. Slowly he slid across the cushion until their thighs touched. “I know I said I wouldn’t make a move on you.”

“I sense a but coming on.”

He laid his big, warm palm on her knee. “You did mention this was sort of a date, and I’d be less than honest if I didn’t tell you that, right now, all I want to do is kiss you. Then I’ll back off. No pressure. I promise.”

“One kiss. Afterward . . . we’ll see.”

He moved in closer, cupping her cheek as he slid his fingers into her hair. Staring into her eyes for a moment, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his. The kiss started gently as he gave her time to think about it, even pull away if she wanted to. When she let out a tiny sigh and gripped his bicep, he deepened the contact. She opened her mouth beneath his, and clung as he kissed her so thoroughly, she thought she might dissolve into the cushion.

Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling as he worked to get his breathing under control. “One kiss. A spectacular kiss, but that’s it. Just one.”

“Wow. Talk about chemistry. I’m surprised the couch didn’t ignite.” She blinked a couple of times. “It might be best if I hit the road, Joe. Or at least go see if a room opened up at the inn.”

“No need. You can trust me.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not sure I trust myself.”

Silence followed her words until the vibrating buzz of a cell phone sounded from his pocket.

He closed his eyes and swore silently. “I have to answer that.”

“Of course.”

While Joe talked to the caller in a calming voice—something about a cat and tinsel and intestines—Isabel gripped her hands together and stared at her dog, stretched out on the floor. Lucky let out a moan and rolled to his back, sticking his paws in the air, utterly carefree. Whenever Marcus the Jerk had kissed her, her dog and whined . . . or growled.

“I have to go.”

She swung around to face Joe as he rose to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Cat emergency. The poor thing will probably need surgery. Why people who own cats hang tinsel on their trees is beyond me. This one ate some and now—” He broke off. “You don’t need the details. Make yourself at home. Take my bed since I won’t be using it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay.” He’d reached the door before she’d pulled her thoughts together. “Thank you, Joe. I hope the kitty makes it.”

“So, do I. Bye, Isabel.”

The door shut with a thud, taking the what to do about Joe decision out of her hands. She wasn’t sure if she was thankful . . . or sorry.

* * * *

The sun was shining and the snow melting in big wet patches when Joe pulled into his driveway late the next morning. Where Isabel’s car had been parked, all that was left were a few piles of snow. A shovel leaned against the nearby shed. He blinked tiredly and let out a sigh.

Damn.

He’d really liked the woman. Chances were, he’d never see her again. And that just plain sucked. Sitting there for a moment, feeling sorry for himself, he thrummed his fingers on top of the steering wheel.

Finally, he got out of his truck and tromped through the slush to the front porch. The door squeaked when he opened it, and silence greeted him. On the back of the couch, Tiger stood up and stretched before settling down again.

“Merry Christmas to me.” His voice disrupted the quiet. With a sigh, he headed to his bedroom to peel off his clothes and drop them on the floor. The bed was neatly made, not the way he’d left it. Bending, he pulled back the quilt and sniffed the pillow. It smelled faintly of something floral. Like Isabel.

That cheered him somewhat. He took a shower, soaking some of the tiredness away, and then dressed in a pair of old jeans and a flannel shirt. As he left his room, the scent of fresh coffee teased his nose. He stopped cold. Had he set the timer on the coffee pot the night before? He certainly didn’t remember doing it.

From the kitchen, a dog barked. Tiger hissed in response before streaking past Joe into the bedroom. When a soft voice scolded, the tight knot in his chest eased, and a smile curled his lips. Practically running, he crossed the main room and stopped with the bar counter between him and Isabel.

“I thought you left.”

She turned away from the stove, holding a spatula. “You were out of eggs. Luckily the little market at the gas station was open and had some. How’s the kitty who ate tinsel?”

“Recovering from surgery. I had to stay with her afterward, but she’ll be fine.”

“Excellent. Have a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I can’t believe you’re still here.”

Her blue eyes lit up with a hint of humor as she smiled at him. “I wouldn’t have driven away without telling you goodbye. I was raised to have manners.”

Stepping around the end of the counter, he took the spatula out of her hand, dropped it on the counter, and turned off the burner beneath the eggs before slowly drawing her against his chest. “I’m glad.”

“So am I.” Her tone was slightly breathless. “You know I can’t miss the bachelorette party. Right?”

“Not when you drove cross-country to be there.”

“Exactly. But after the wedding—”

“When is it?” He laid his palm against the curve of her waist, and a warm tingle shot through him.

“New Year’s Eve.”

“Do you have a date?”

“Not since I dumped Marcus the Jerk.”

His heart beat a little faster. “My staff will be back by then. Do you want one?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You mean like a second date?”

“I’m counting breakfast as our second date. The wedding could be our third.”

“That’s a relief. On a third date, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask.”

He gaped at her. “Honestly, Isabel, you take my breath away. You’ve made what would have been an extremely boring Christmas very special.”

“And you’ve restored my faith in men. Last night I was wondering what to do about you, Joe. Now I know.”

“Oh?”

“Kiss me and find out.”

* * * *

I hope you've enjoyed my contribution to our holiday stories. Return tomorrow to see what Diane Burton has in store for us! To get all my latest book related news, follow me on FACEBOOK. Happy reading!

What To Do About Joe ~ Part Two by Jannine Gallant

Joe Angelo shut the oven door and turned around when a thump sounded from the front porch. Even Elvis singing Blue Christmas on the classic rock station couldn’t drown out the eruption of barking that followed.

“What the heck?” Hurrying past the table in the large, open dining area, he reached the door and stopped. Tiger stood on the back of the couch in front of the window, his fur standing on end as he spat at the face staring through the glass. Lights from the Christmas tree in the corner flashed intermittently across the shaggy fur, giving the dog a, colorful, otherworldly appearance. Heavy panting fogged the image, but the cat wasn’t fooled into believing his adversary had left.

With a grin, Joe opened the door, flipped on the exterior light, and looked into a pair of hesitant blue eyes. “You changed your mind about the ribs?”

“You did offer.”

“Happily. Come on in.” He backed up a step when the huge Irish Wolfhound pushed past him. Isabel quickly followed, and he shut the door against the howling wind. “Uh, will he want to eat my dinner or my cat?”

“Lucky loves cats . . . but not because they taste good.”

Tiger swished his tail and stared at the beast, who was quivering with excitement.

“I’m not too sure Tiger will return his affection.”

“I guess I can leave him in the car.” She gripped the dog’s collar with both hands and tugged, sounding less than thrilled at the prospect. “He’ll be a little lonely, but he probably won’t freeze.”

“No, he won’t, but I’m not completely heartless. I’m more worried about Lucky than I am about Tiger, who has a bit of a temper when crossed. Let the two of them work out their differences in the nice warm house.”

Isabel released her grip, and the dog shot farther into the room. “Thank you. I simply couldn’t face such a long drive through that storm. Call me Chicken Little.”

“No, your decision was a smart move. Which makes you bright, not a coward.”

Dimples appeared in cheeks that were pink from the cold, and her blue eyes held a hint of amusement. “Very apropos since Bright is my last name. I’m glad I’m living up to it.”

He held out his hand. “Welcome to my home, Isabel Bright. I’m Joe Angelo.”

She shook his extended palm with a firm grip that sent a shot of electricity up his arm before the sizzle warmed a few other places. The woman was extremely fine, petite, pretty, and blond. He did his best not to notice the tempting curves beneath her fake fur jacket and failed miserably.

“Your name is appropriate, too, since apparently you’re my guardian angel tonight. If it wasn’t for you and your craving for ribs, I’d probably be spending the night in a ditch.”

He groaned. “No angel jokes, please. Growing up, do you know how often I got teased?”

Her eyes sparkled. “So, I shouldn’t tell you that, with those curls, you look just like cupid?”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

She covered her mouth with her hand but couldn’t hide a smile. “Definitely not serial killer material.”

“That’s a relief. Let me take your coat. The ribs are in the oven heating, and I have coleslaw and rolls to go with them. Not exactly traditional holiday fare, but—”

“Who cares. If they taste as good as they smell, I’ll think I’m in heaven. No pun intended.”

He rolled his eyes as he hung the jacket she handed him on the coat tree beside the door. Isabel glanced over at her dog, who sat near the Christmas tree, whining and thumping his tail on the hardwood floor. Tiger narrowed his eyes to mere slits in response but didn’t move.

“I really appreciate you taking us in like this, Joe.”

“You’re very welcome. I wasn’t looking forward to spending Christmas Eve alone, so you’re actually doing me a favor.”

She followed him as he headed back to the kitchen. “No family to visit for the holidays?”

“I run a veterinary clinic. Since I let my staff have the next few days off, I needed to stick around for any emergencies. Most of my relatives live down in Phoenix.”

“Nice of you to be so considerate of your employees.” She leaned on the counter while he lifted down a couple of wine glasses from a cupboard. After a moment, she asked, “There’s no Mrs. Angelo?”

“That would imply I actually have time to date. Would you like a glass of Cabernet with your ribs?”

“I’d love one.” She frowned at the pattern in the granite countertop while he poured the wine. “Dating is overrated, anyway.”

“It is?”

She nodded then sipped the wine he handed her. “Thank you. This is excellent. Men—well, not you since you’re an angel, but other men—are jerks.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.” Taking another sip, she grimaced. “I’m feeling a bit jaded at the moment, having just discovered the man I thought was crazy in love with me also loved—and I use the term loosely—two other women. At the same time. He didn’t see why I was upset when I found out. Unfortunately, we also worked together, so I kissed both him and the job good-bye. Metaphorically speaking.”

“I’d say you have every right to be angry. Obviously, the guy wasn’t worth your time, but job hunting is never fun.”

“I think I’ve had about enough of the political scene, anyway. That’s what this cross-country drive to Vegas was about, deciding if I want to remain in the D.C. area or get out of the swamp.”

“Where’s your family?”

“On the California coast. I’ll stay with my parents for a few days between the bachelorette party and the wedding since Amanda is getting married in Carmel. I’m hoping to have some sort of plan for my future by then.”

When the timer on the stove went off, he grabbed a couple of hot pads and pulled the roasting pan out of the oven. The aroma wafting up from the steaming ribs made his mouth water when he pulled back the foil. Turning, he nearly tripped over Lucky, who had deserted the cat in favor of food. Some fancy footwork on his part saved their meal.

“Nice try, buddy.” He set the pan down on the counter.

“Huh?” Isabel glanced up, and her eyes widened.

The dog laid his chin on the counter and stared at the ribs. Drool slid down the side of the cabinet.

“Stop that, Lucky. Go lie down. I’m sorry, Joe. I should get his food out of the car.”

“Right now, he can have a rib for an appetizer. It won’t hurt him, and I brought home plenty for leftovers.”

“You really are a nice guy.”

“Yep, that’s me. Nice and harmless.” He put the rolls and a container of coleslaw on the counter next to the ribs before getting out plates and flatware. “Which is a good thing since you took a huge risk by coming here alone. That wasn’t so bright.”

“Ha ha.” Isabel dipped a finger into the barbecue sauce and licked it off. Her eyes closed slowly. “So good. Yum. As to your safety lecture, it wasn’t that big a risk.” She pointed at the dog. “He isn’t just a pretty, slobbery face. If you tried to hurt me, he’d rip your arm off.”

“Good to know. Not that I have any intention of making a move on you.” He dished up their plates and gave her a quick grin. “Unless, of course, you ask nicely.”

She laughed out loud, her dimples showing. “Do you have any mistletoe hanging around?”

Joe handed Lucky a rib before following Isabel to the table with his plate. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then, I think you’re out of luck. I don’t ask on a first date, nicely or otherwise.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Seems like a date. We’re enjoying food and wine together, maybe a little harmless flirting. Since we didn’t know each other before tonight, this has all the makings of a blind date.”

“Isabel?”

She glanced up, delicately holding a messy rib between her fingers. “Yes?”

“If this is a blind date, I should have let my married buddies set me up years ago. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

* * * *

Does this "blind date" have a happy ending? Stop by tomorrow to find out? To check out all my books, visit my WEBSITE. Happy reading!

What To Do About Joe ~ Part One by Jannine Gallant

She peered through the snow-spattered windshield at the neon sign and hoped like hell there was room at the inn. Pressing harder on the gas, her Prius fishtailed on the slippery road, and the much smaller “no vacancy” sign hanging between the looped garlands of holiday tinsel became visible in the glow of her headlights.

“Why am I not surprised? It’s been that kind of day.” Isabel Bright glanced over at her traveling companion who had his nose pressed against the side window. “Who’s kidding whom? It’s been that kind of month.”

Gritting her teeth as her tires slid again, she wondered why she hadn’t had the foresight to buy chains before embarking on this insane trek. Maybe because I didn’t exactly plan ahead. The last-minute decision to drive cross-country to Amanda’s bachelorette party instead of flying had been sheer idiocy considering the weather, but she’d wanted to use the time alone to clear her head. Make a few decisions about her future.

“How’s that working out for you?” Her voice rang with sarcasm as the flashing neon sign above the sketchy-looking motel disappeared behind her in a swirl of snow on the lonely stretch of road. Why stop now when she could put a couple hundred more miles between her and her jerk of an ex-boyfriend. Even if the weather was better suited to a sleigh than her pint-sized car.

Beside her, Lucky panted, fogging the windshield. Isabel turned up the fan on the defroster, which was fighting a losing battle against the Irish Wolfhound’s heavy breathing.

“If we keep driving, maybe we’ll outrun the storm. Who knew it snowed in Arizona?”

She’d expected cactus, sagebrush, and balmy temperatures for this segment of her trip, not pine trees and a blizzard. The northern part of the state and the southern half might as well have been on different planets.

Lucky turned to look at her and whined, then scratched the door.

“Seriously? You have to go now? We’ll both turn into popsicles.”

He whined again and added a low woof for good measure.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Isabel slowed to a stop in the middle of the empty road. Deserted because she was the only one stupid enough to be driving in a snowstorm. If she pulled to the edge, she’d probably wind up in a ditch. “Fine, you can get out to pee.”

When she opened the door and stepped into ankle-deep snow, a blast of arctic air hit her in the face and penetrated her faux-fur jacket, which would be plenty warm for spending Christmas in Las Vegas—if she ever made it there. Obviously, it wasn’t designed to withstand real winter weather.

“Come on. I’m not walking around the car to let you out.”

Lucky squeezed his way over the center console and landed beside her with a thump. He gave his massive head a shake and sniffed his way down the road in the direction they’d come. Wagging happily, he was obviously thrilled with the situation.

At least one of us is enjoying this.

“We aren’t here to play. Do your business, and let’s go!” Her shouted words whirled away on the unrelenting wind.

A rumble sounded in the distance, growing louder as lights appeared around the bend. Isabel shielded her eyes against the glare and breathed a sigh of relief when the oversized pickup stopped before running over her dog. Not that anyone could miss seeing him since he was as big as a small pony.

“Lucky, move!” She shuffled forward in leather boots with slick soles, struggling to stay upright. Swearing beneath her breath, she finally reached the driver’s side door of the truck where her dog stood with his front paws planted against the window. “Oh, my God! Get down!”

When Lucky ignored her completely and whined, the driver lowered the glass a couple of inches. “He probably smells the ribs. I was in the mood for decent barbecue and brought a rack home with me for my Christmas Eve dinner.” The deep voice held a hint of amusement.

“I’m so sorry.” Grabbing Lucky’s collar, Isabel pulled with all her strength. When he backed away without warning, her foot slipped out from beneath her. She landed on the icy pavement, sprawled on her backside. “Ouch!”

“Are you okay?” The door opened with a creak, and a big male in a puffy jacket bent over her, his face a blur in the darkness.

Lucky sniffed him and licked the side of his neck.

“I think so. Move it, you moron!”

Hastily, the man backed away. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Not you, my dog.” Isabel could feel her face heating with embarrassment as she tried to scramble to her feet.

He put a hand beneath her elbow and lifted her effortlessly before steadying her at her waist. “Careful.”

“Thank you.” She let out a puff of breath in the frigid air as she slapped snow off her backside. “I apologize for Lucky and for stopping in the middle of the road. I’ll go move my car out of the way so you can get past me.”

“Your dog doesn’t look like he fits in that thing.”

“Just barely.” When Lucky lifted his leg to pee on his truck tire, she cringed.

“Uh, not to question your judgement, but you should put on chains.” The chatty stranger gestured toward the rear of her Prius, illuminated by his headlights. “The road conditions are only going to get worse as you climb.”

“Climb?” Her voice squeaked. “We’re still going up?”

“I’m afraid so, and the road crews won’t be out to plow anytime soon since this isn’t a major highway.”

“There was a pile-up on the freeway. I was lucky to get off when I did, and my GPS showed this road connecting to I40 in another thirty miles or so.”

“Thirty miles of winding road that climbs over a thousand feet. Maybe you should go back into town to wait out the storm.”

“There’s no room at the inn. Motorists who got off the freeway ahead of me must have filled the place.” She wrapped her arms across her chest and tried not to shiver as snowflakes dampened her hair. “I don’t have chains. I wasn’t planning to drive through a blizzard.”

“You travelled all the way from Virginia without carrying chains?”

She scrunched her brow. “How did you—oh, my license plate.”

“That’s quite a road trip.” When Lucky nudged his hand, the man patted his head. “Where’re you headed?”

“Las Vegas. Bachelorette party for one of my oldest friends right after Christmas.” Her teeth chattered, and she clamped them together. “I planned to get there a couple of days early. Sorry. I’m still blocking the road. I’ll move my car so you can go home and eat your dinner. Come on, Lucky. You aren’t getting those ribs.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing. I certainly can’t eat the whole rack by myself, and I don’t like the idea of leaving you on the road without chains. The snow is really coming down hard, and you won’t get much traction with street tires. Chances are, you’ll wind up in a ditch.” He reached out to touch her arm, and she instinctively backed up a step.

“I’ll be fine.” At least I hope so. What kind of idiot was she, hanging out alone on a deserted road with a strange man. With her recent luck, he was probably a serial killer.

Seemingly reading her mind, he held up both hands. “Hey, I’m harmless. I promise.”

“I’m sure you are, but—”

“Do I look like a crazed killer? I’ve been told I have a baby face.”

“I can’t see your face in the dark. Anyway, what does a serial killer look like? I doubt they all wear creepy white masks à la Michael Myers.”

“I expect you’re right. Most probably look like normal guys—” He broke off. “I’ll shut up now. I’m sure this conversation isn’t reassuring you. If you take it slow and stay in the middle if the road, you should be fine. It’s not like there’s any traffic tonight.”

“True. We seem to be the only morons out driving.”

He grinned. “I’ll follow behind you until I get to my turnoff in another mile.”

“Okay. Thank you, uh . . .”

“Joe. Good luck with the rest of your drive, and have fun at the bachelorette party.”

She summoned a smiled. “I’m Isabel, by the way. I’ll do my best. Have a merry Christmas, Joe.”

“You, too.”

Amazingly, Lucky deserted the truck and the ribs to follow her when she headed back to her car. Even more surprisingly, she didn’t fall on her butt getting there. Maybe things were looking up, after all. A minute later, both she and her dog were inside the car. She shifted into gear and gave the engine some gas. Her wheels spun but finally caught, and the car lurched forward.

“Yes!”

With her wipers slapping the fat flakes pelting her windshield, she leaned forward and peered at the stretch of pristine white emptiness in front of her. No tire tracks to lead the way, but if she didn’t stray from the center of the road, she should survive the next thirty miles.

Behind her, the glow of Joe’s headlights was comforting. Until, with a double tap on his horn, he turned right and disappeared.

Her heart thumped in her chest as she let her foot off the gas. Who was she kidding? No way was she driving miles and miles through a blizzard when it had taken her five minutes to go a measly one. And if by some miracle she made it to the freeway, it would probably be closed when she got there.

Turning, she stared at her dog. “What do you think? Should we go back to the inn with the no vacancy sign and beg for a place to spend the night, even if it’s only a shed out back? Or do we throw ourselves on the mercy of Joe—who hopefully isn’t a serial killer—and help eat his ribs while we figure out what to do?”

Lucky let out a low woof.

Isabel put the car in reverse. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

* * * *

Is Joe a serial killer? Does Lucky get those ribs? To find out what happens next, come back tomorrow for part two. Don't forget, my latest book, HIDDEN SECRETS, is available in digital and print. Pick up a copy at your local Barnes & Noble or download it HERE. Happy reading!