“Yep. Let’s get this guy up on your roof.” He points at an inflated Santa that’s much bigger than the roof of Lexi’s van when he’s full of air.
“This is my wife, Karina.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says.
Dane grabs a ladder from the side of the house.
“We’ll pop by Shannon’s and get him back later,” he says as if running around town picking up borrowed yard decor is par for the course. Maybe around here it is.
Once Santa is unplugged, the three of us wrestle him to the roof racks on Lexi’s van and secure him with twine. He’s deflating slowly, but we’ve got him battened down.
“If you had time, we could let him deflate here,” Karina says.
“We don’t,” I say, dashing around to the driver’s side.
“Nice to meet you!” I shout, already turning the key in the ignition.
I pull onto the street and make a right onto the next block. I’m about to pause at a stop sign.
“Is that … ?” I mutter into the darkness.
The telltale swirling red light flashing on top of a patrol car approaches.
Oh, the irony! Well, I guess I’ll get to meet a colleague prematurely.
I run through a list of codes in my head, wondering why I might be getting pulled over. Santa’s not hanging out of the back window like a hostage—or at least not one who’s still negotiating.
I pull to the side of the road, quickly texting Lexi while I watch the officer exit his vehicle and make his way toward the driver’s side door.
Alex:Hey. Got pulled over. Will get to you asap.
I study the man approaching me in my side mirror. He’s handsome. Which is alarming, because that particular radar’s been out of service since Marco. I had started to wonder if I had lost the ability to appreciate a man. Nope. Apparently not. Light brown hair. He’s got a boy-next-door look to him, but in a waythat makes you look twice. Well-built. And that confident stride. Hmmm …
And now he’s knocking on the window with a not-quite-scowl on his face. His brown eyes peer into the darkness at me, his features illuminated by the streetlamp overhead.
I roll the window down and a gust of cold air whooshes into the van along with a few stray snowflakes.
“Good evening, Officer,” I say.
“You’re not Lexi,” he says by way of greeting.
“No. I’m not.”
“Yet, you’re driving her van.”
“I am.”
The cuteness factor is diminishing by the second—but those lips, even as he presses them thin in frustration, definitely have my attention. Why? Maybe it’s jet lag. I only traveled across one U.S. time zone, though. Who knows?
“License and registration, please.” His tone is commanding and he crosses his arms, looking at me down the straight line of his Patrician nose.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask, half-expecting him to grin. He does not grin. Of course he doesn’t grin.
“Do I look like a man who jokes about code violations?”
No. No, you do not.
“Look, I’m Alexandra,” I say, fishing through my purse for my license. “Alexandra Keller. Lexi is my cousin. I’m driving her van for the scavenger hunt.”
