Page 57 of Christmas Coffee

Celyn

Iwake with the scent of Nova filling my head. I smile and roll over, reaching for her before I even open my eyes. She’s there, warm and perfect, nestled against me. I whisper in her ear, “Morning, lover.”

She giggles. “Morning, boss.”

I cringe. “Don’t call me that.”

“Would you rather I called you Korbin? Oh, Korbin,” she moans, saying the name the way she said mine last night.

My hands move to her sides, to the spot just above her waist that tickles the most. Her laughter fills the hut as she wriggles in my arms. “Celyn. It’s Celyn. Say it.”

She shakes her head between fits of laughter, her face filled with mirth. “No!”

I find the spot and tickle her more this time, until she’s wriggling against me, her back to my front, and then she stills. She looks over her shoulder and whispers, “Celyn.”

I hold her close, pressing my mouth to hers when the sound of Quin’s voice fills the air. He raps the glass, trying to scrape the ice off with a gloved hand.

“Oh shit,” I jump up and toss the covers on Nova. I whisper to her, “Don’t move.” She ducks below the blankets and out of sight as I pull on my sweater. That’s right, I’m standing there naked from the waist down, leaning against the cold counter. It enough to make me never want to buy anything from a food truck again.

Quin manages to peel off a huge chunk of ice. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t break the window. He’s standing there in a blue parka, cheeks chapped from the wind. “Where the hell were you?” He yells through the glass that still won’t budge. There must be ice in the track. “I kept calling you last night. Did you get stuck here?”

I shrug like it’s not a big deal. “Yeah, I figured why not.”

Quin frowns and spits out, “Because it’s a fucking shack and you’re you.”

I glance at the spot where Nova lies covered, hoping Quin doesn’t say more. I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. I tried to last night. I was going to sit here with her, trapped in awkward hell, if it didn’t go well. But she melted my brain and before I knew what I was doing, I was with her, inside of her, saying I loved her. It’s the kind of thing that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable in the light of day, especially with Quin standing there and my junk hanging out. If he comes through that door, I’ll never hear the end of it, but that’s not the worst part. It’ll shame Nova and I won’t let that happen. Call it chivalry, but I don’t kiss and tell. This is between me and Nova and I’m going to keep it that way.

Quin glances around the parking lot, his hand to his brow to block the bright reflection of the sun bouncing off the blinding stretch of snow. “Where’s your car?”

Shit. The car. He’ll never leave if he thinks I sold the McLaren. With my luck, he’ll break the window and climb inside the hut to shake the shit out of me. I play along, blanching and looking around. “Don’t even joke, man.”

Quin turns in a full circle. “It’s not here, man. Holy shit. Someone stole your car! And then the plows blocked you in the hut.” Quin is still freaking out, looking for the car.

I bang on the glass to get his attention. “Quin! What are you talking about? The plows blocked the door?” I’m thinking they parked there or something until he explains.

Quin gives me a look, brows raised, and points at the door. “You got plowed.”

Nova whispers from below the blankets, “That’s my line.”

I grin and repress a laugh. I try to steel my voice and sound pissed, but it comes out an octave too high. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Quin walks away, takes a picture with his phone, and then presses it to the window. “You’re trapped.”

The plow must have come by and thought the shack was empty. They covered the steps and door in five feet of snow and ice. “Holy shit.”

“I know!” Quin blurts out. He’s like a squirrel when things go wrong—he gets twitchy. The man isn’t someone you want in charge during a crisis. “Okay, first things first, I’ll call the cops about your car and—”

“No,” I cut him off, “get me out of here. I’m texting you the number of a guy I know—he has a plow. Tell him Celyn said he’s calling in his favor.”

Quin glances at me through the pane of glass. “I can buy a shovel.”

I nearly laugh. “You can’t shovel shit, Quin.”

Quin frowns and looks back at Sears. “Well, no, but it’d be faster than finding a guy with a plow and—”

“Man, I’m fine. I have food and coffee in here. Go find Tim and bring him back here. There’s no point in freezing your ass off out there and it’ll take hours to dig me out.” Leave, please leave. I chant the words over and over again in my mind. He can’t stay. He can’t see her, or know about us. Not yet.

“You sure you’re okay?”