Authors: Christa Simpson
Tags: #romance, #love, #valentines day, #sexy alpha male, #sexy alpha hero, #beautiful blonde, #valentines day story, #love and attraction, #sassy writer, #sexy adult romance, #valentines day romantic story, #valentines day romance, #valentines romance, #hero alpha male, #vacation holiday romance for adults
“Yes, bright eyes. This is the place. I know these
roads like the back of my hand. You must be along here
somewhere.”
I spot the truck first. No surprise there. “Ah. You
see?”
Felicia’s friend, Natalie, stares out the passenger
window but still misses the truck. “I can’t see a single thing out
there.”
Natalie’s truck has been snowed over. It is
literally covered to the roof, disguised as a pile of snow. We’d
have passed it, mistaking it for a snow drift on the roadside, if
I’d left it up to the girls.
“You’re lucky we don’t get any traffic out here.
You’re barely off the road,” I tell them, as I turn on my four-way
lights and swerve to the opposite side of the road. I park directly
in front of Natalie’s truck, while she babbles about her above
average driving skills. Her truck is so snow covered that I can’t
even tell what color it is. “This is you.”
I pop my hood and tug on my hat. “Are you coming
with me?”
Felicia’s lower lip comes out in a pout. “Do I have
to?”
I can’t help but kiss her. Then I deliver the
slanted smile that I know she loves. When she flutters those long
dark lashes at me that settles it.
“I can handle it,” I answer, wanting to be the man
to take care of her. “But while you’re waiting in here, you’d
better think about what you’re going to give me in exchange.” I
raise my eyebrows, pry open my door and jump down from my
truck.
As soon as I close the door, Felicia has her finger
on the power window button. She opens the driver’s side window and
smiles at me. “Thanks, babe.”
Natalie rolls her eyes. “Just fix my truck, please.
We’ve done enough sitting around. I’d like to get on with my
vacation already.”
“Stop your moaning,” I insist. “I’ll have it up and
running before you know it. I’m a bit of an expert. Not to toot my
own horn or anything, but I’m good at fixing things.”
I give them a wink. I love the way my arrogance
tickles them every time I throw it out there.
“It’s kind of my specialty,” I add.
Felicia smiles at me with those full, wide lips and
starts to close her window. “I agree. Those fingers are
special.”
The window closes up before I can hear Natalie’s
disgusted rebuttal, but Felicia’s words warm me enough to get me
through the first five minutes of digging. After spending another
five shoveling the front end of their truck out of a snow bank, I
finally try the door.
Locked.
I swipe my gloved hand over the glass to clear the
snow. I can see through the window that it’s locked. With a wave at
the ladies, Felicia hops out of my truck and rushes to the door
with keys.
“Voila!” she cheers when she reaches him. She
appears as relieved as me to be even just a little closer to
leaving this place. She yanks on the frosty silver handle and her
gloved hand slips off.
“Here, let me get it,” I suggest, dusting the last
bit of snow from it.
She doesn’t seem to like that idea very much. “I
think I can handle it.” She tries again, but it doesn’t work. She’s
obviously a stubborn woman—determined, but stubborn.
Knowing she isn’t going to be one to give up too
easily, I make a brilliant suggestion. “Why don’t you put your back
into it?”
She glances at me through those dark lashes and it
slices razor sharp across my heart. Felicia is a modern day
fantasy, and she knows it. I watch her wrap her fingers around the
handle once again and see the way she grips it with both hands,
bending her knees this time. I can’t help but watch that
magnificent ass when she’s sticking it out like that. She tries the
door again with a swift pull and lands flat on that beautiful
thing.
I laugh. What? It’s funny. I can see that Felicia
doesn’t agree with me. But she still has the icy, metallic handle
in her palm.
“Oh yeah?” she says, whipping the handle to the
ground like she’s just scored a touchdown. She gets on her knees,
gathers up an armful of snow and molds it into a huge ball. She
closes her gloved hands around it and tosses it right at me. But
I’m fast.
I dive out of the way and collect up a ball of my
own. I toss it before Felicia can even get to her feet. She screams
just as the snowball connects with her face and bursts into flakes
of snow that decorate her hair and eyelashes.
Oh . . . she’s
mad.
I’m laughing so hard, I forget to dodge the snow
flying at my head. She gets me flat on the forehead.
It’s on
now!
“Matty, no!”
I don’t listen. I run straight at her and tackle her
back onto the ground into a pile of fluffy snow. I am hopeful she
doesn’t get mad and it’s looking like I’ve done something right.
She’s smiling and staring right into my eyes, with a beautiful
laugh that lights up my life.
I lean in until our lips meet. Those lips, all soft
and warm; a guy can get lost in moments like this. I deepen the
kiss, wishing her friend wasn’t around to tarnish what we could be
doing if we were alone. Our tongues touch and Felicia whimpers
softly.
“Waaaaaaaaa,” wails the horn of my truck. “Waaaa,
waaaaaaaaa.” Natalie has clearly grown impatient.
I give Felicia another soft kiss before uncovering
her body and pulling her up from the snow.
“Now I’m soaked. You’d better get to work before I
freeze to death,” she teases, not knowing the first thing about
dressing for this type of weather.
I pull off my snow glove, reach for the door, and
wiggle my finger inside the hole where the handle once rested. I
find the sweet spot and, click, pull open the door.
“Ladies first,” I tease, holding the door for
Felicia to hop in.
“Aren’t you Mr. Perfect?” She sweeps past me, hops
onto the seat and slides the key into the ignition.
“Go ahead. Give it a try.”
She turns it forward. “See? Nothing.”
I smile when I hear the clicking noise. “I wouldn’t
say nothing. The battery is still registering. That’s
something.”
Still, she starts to look worried. “Can you fix
it?”
“I can fix anything, baby.” I pull the black latch
near her boot and hear the hood pop open. “This truck has to be
closing in on twenty years. It’s no wonder the beater broke down on
the side of the road. Whose brilliant idea was it to drive this
animal?”
“Don’t look at me. Natalie insisted that she drive.
I even put up a fight, but I lost.”
I cup Felicia’s cheek with my frozen hand. “I find
that hard to believe.”
She kneels on the seat and hovers over my mouth,
smiling before closing in on me. She’s such a tease. Every kiss
leaves me wanting more. Even in this cold weather she manages to
wake the sleeping beast in my pants.
“I’d better get to work,” I say, even though it’s
the last thing I want to do right now.
She kisses me again, like she wishes I didn’t have
to go, then slides back onto her bottom.
“Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” she answers joyfully, as the door
clicks shut between us.
The snow crunches beneath my snowmobile boots, as I
cover my bare hand with my glove. The hood lifts without any
trouble, which is a relief. I tinker around until I find what
appears to be the problem. I wipe the corrosion away from the
battery and replace the cap. Honestly, the truck is a mess. It
could be a host of things.
I peer around the hood and catch Felicia rubbing her
gloved hands together, even though she’s inside the truck. Those
fashionable mitts do nothing but look pretty. Lucky for her, we
should be out of here in a matter of minutes.
“Give it a try,” I holler.
She glances at me until the fog dissipates from my
frosty words. She tries the key once, but the engine still doesn’t
turn over.
I hold up a hand to stop her, while I use my other
to adjust the connections. Even with my snow gear on, it’s frosty.
The snow starts to rain from the heavens, covering the road with a
wave of white blankets. The hood of the truck had barely been
blocking the wind, when suddenly a blast of snow whips around it
and slices across my face.
Felicia rolls down the driver side window and angles
her head outside. “Need any help under there? Whatever you’re
doing, it’s not working.” The wind makes her hair dance wildly
around her pretty face.
“I can always use your hands, doll. But not this
time. I think I’ve got it. Give it another try.” I catch a look at
her smile before she escapes from the blistery weather and reefs on
the handle to roll up the window in the old truck.
My smile grows infinitely when she revs the engine
to life.
What did I say? Expert.
I hear a loud wail of the horn and imagine that
Felicia is celebrating, but then I jump from the loud crackle in
the air. A resounding screech echoes through my ears and deafens
me, as the truck’s hood seems to turn into the mouth of a crocodile
and clamps down onto me like vicious jaws. The twisted wreckage
wraps around me, and sandwiches my body precariously against my own
truck.
Pain sears through my side and bolts right into my
foot, as I gasp for air that can’t seem to reach my lungs. Starved
for oxygen, dizziness settles in, but it doesn’t even numb the pain
screaming across every inch of my lower extremities.
I’m moaning now. At least I think that’s me. It
hurts so bad that I can’t even tell. I don’t know if a man can
handle a pain like this. I think I’m going to die. That doesn’t
sound like such a bad idea right about now.
It feels like a waterfall of blood is spilling down
my body and I’m suddenly very tired. I’m afraid to close my eyes,
though. I’m fighting for a breath as it is. If I fall asleep, I’m
afraid I might forget to breathe at all.
With my next breath, it’s like I’ve been knifed in
my ribs. Everything burns. It’s like a fire is engulfing my body
and I’m going to fall into a sink hole that will take me straight
to a lifetime of hell. Nothing is working as it should. Even my
vision is blurry. All I see is red. Blood. It’s everywhere. It’s
even in my eyes.
If it weren’t for the steady shocks of electricity
attacking my legs, I’d have believed that I didn’t have any
extremities attached to me anymore.
The pain. Someone make it
stop!
“Help!” I holler. I need someone to help me, but my
voice sounds so weak. Is that me? “Help!” I shout again, but it’s
barely audible and the tightness in my middle prevents me from
taking a deep breath.
I’m so scared and I’m afraid that no one will find
me. I don’t want to be alone right now. I need someone to get me
out of here. “Help me!” I cry out at the top of my lungs.
That is a mistake.
Tears pour down my face and mingle with some other
liquid that has been steadily seeping from my ear. Everything is
foggy. I listen for any sign that help is on its way, but the
piercing ring in my ears prevents me from hearing anything over the
gasps I take with every struggling breath.
This is it. My life is over. No one is here. No one
can save me now.
Another screech rips through my ears. It’s a woman.
All at once, everything falls back into place.
Felicia.
Oh God. Tell me she’s okay. If you must take
someone, take me.
Now that my eyes are shut, it takes a great deal of
energy to open them. I have been hit. I know that much. But what’s
pinning me in place? I can’t move anything but an arm. Why can’t I
move?
As my mind floods with my bleak reality, I scream—a
full-on scream—knowing it could be the death of me. “Help! Someone
please help me!”
I don’t know what feels worse: the stabbing pain my
side, or the throb inside my chest with every wayward beat of my
heart. It feels like my chest is crushed and my heart is dangling
from a vine.
I’m running on empty. I can’t feel my legs.
I pry my eyes open and hold them there like they’re
stuck open with toothpicks. “Oh, God. Please help me,” I cry out
softly. I slowly wake from the darkness to a beautiful angel
surrounded in a storm of white searing pain. She’s pleading for me
to stay with her. Lucky for her, I can’t go anywhere at the
moment.
The angel struggles with the passenger window. The
door is pretty mangled and she can’t get it open very far. Why is
she still in the truck? She’s determined to escape now. I think to
do the same. I try to move my legs again, but I can’t—at least I
don’t think I can.
“Noooo,” I moan, when pain shoots up my spine and
settles in my chest. I try to move my upper body, but I feel a lot
of pressure in my gut. It feels like someone has thrown an entire
set of knives at me, like I’m a dart board, and now that the knives
are removed, my intestines ooze from the holes.
“Don’t move, Matty. I’m coming,” the angel
cries.
My eyes lift just enough to reach the white
creature. She’s so magnificent. I’d do anything for the girl, if
she’d just take my pain away.
“Please,” I beg. “Help me.”
“Matty—I swear to God—if you leave me, I will kill
you myself,” she shouts through the broken window.
The angel
sounds so angry. Why is she so mad at me?
My eyes blink open again. My life is so hazy, but I
have a glimmer of an angel lying in the snow, with her luscious
brown hair tangling above her.
Wait a minute. That’s no angel.
“Felicia?”
“Oh, God. Thank you,” she cries, as she squeezes out
through the passenger window.
She has a horrible limp, but she seems to ignore it
as she drags her injured leg behind her. I watch her climb
awkwardly onto the mangled hood and I see how it tears at her
jacket. She lies right on top of the shattered windshield and
reaches out to me. It takes every ounce of energy I have just to
hold her hand.
“Hang on, Matty. Please . . . you have to stay with
me.”
I gasp for another breath. “What are you talking
about?” It takes so much energy just to talk. “I’m not going
anywhere.”