Page 5

“He treats me really well. Plus, I pretty much come and go as I please. If the work is done, Mike doesn’t really mind when I’m in the office. I love the freedom.” I smile sweetly, knowing full well at this point I should probably stop rambling on about my boss and start asking the man I’m with some questions, or at the very least save us both the time and get up and leave.

“That’s great that he’s so good to you.” The man pauses and takes a sip of water. “Look at that.” He glances out the side window toward the blanket of white piling up past the sidewalk’s edge. “It’s crazy the snow is already piling up out there. Comes earlier and earl—”

He’s halfway through his very predictable sentence when the lights flicker off, the jukebox stops playing the Christmas loop, and the small crowd of people eating sigh in unison.

“It’s okay, everyone,” Bev, the diner’s most outspoken, red-headed waitress, says to the crowd as she holds up her flashlight. “Johnny’s out back trying to get the generator running. I’ll bring a slice of pie out for everyone… on the house. That’ll keep y’all busy in the meantime.”

The crowd claps unanimously. Well, everyone but my date. My date leans forward slowly. “I don’t really care for the pie here. Do you?”

My eyes widen with shock. “Wait, what? You don’t like pie in general, or you don’t like the pie here?”

“I don’t like the pie here. It’s gross. No idea why they put cranberries in the apple pie.”

Never, until this very moment, did I realize I had such an attachment to the baked goods at this small diner, but apparently, this is the straw that’s about to break the camel’s back.

“Hey,” a deep voice rumbles in from behind, forcing my chest to tighten. Rationally, I know the man sounds like Mike, but I can’t figure why Mike would be standing behind me at the diner when he knows I’m on a blind date, so it can’t be him. A second later, I’m proven wrong as he towers over me at the little booth like he’s going to take my order or haul me up onto his shoulders. Either way, I’d oblige, which we already know is a problem.

“Hey,” my voice stiffens as I stare up at the massive man in flannel rolled to his elbows, tattoos streaking down both forearms.

“Sorry to intrude, but this storm is getting worse by the minute. The sheriff just put out a travel warning. Probably time I get you home.”

Jake, the man with soft hands who does not own or work on heating and cooling elements, speaks up. “I can take Mabel home. Pretty sure we live on the same side of town.”

Mike glances out the front window toward Jake’s eco-boosted Civic that’s nearly covered with snow. “They’re saying six inches in the next hour. I don’t reckon you have the vehicle to get her home safely.”

My stomach tightens as Mike crosses his big, thick arms over his chest. Why does the very sight of him do this to me?

“I have to go over plans for the Christmas thing the governor is doing this year anyway, so I should use this time for that.” I’m already standing as I talk, the chatter in the diner still quiet as cell phones light up a few tables in the back of the restaurant.

Jake groans. “You sure this guy wasn’t your scapegoat for a date gone bad?”

“What?” I narrow my eyes to small slits. “No, but you have to admit, this wasn’t going very well.”

He laughs and glances up at Mike before making eyes with me again. “No, because you’re clearly in love with him.”

My cheeks burn. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake stands from the booth and zips his jacket, “and now he’s here to rescue you from a snowstorm during a date, so I’d gather he’s got a thing for you too. Can’t say I’m shocked. Makes sense that a guy who’s used to taking things from people is here taking my date too.”

Mike’s hand rests on the small of my back, the heat from his palm comforting me in a way I probably shouldn’t feel from my boss. I remind myself that he doesn’t mean anything by it.

“Why don’t you head out, buddy?” Mike nods toward the man. “Stay on the main road. I saw the plow going through there on my way in, so you should be fine.”

“Which means she’d have been fine too, right?” The man shakes his head and heads out the front door into the dark, windy night, like he somehow knows something Mike and I are denying.

He’s wrong, though.

Mike and I are friendly. That’s all this is. I defend him because he’s like family, and he cares for me because he feels sorry for me.

Sure, I masturbate to pictures of him, but who wouldn’t? The man oozes masculine energy. I’m sure half the women in Rugged Mountain fantasize about what he could do with those hands.

“You ready?” He guides me forward through the diner doors and out into the blustering cold night. I swear, every year it gets colder earlier and earlier. I need to buy a fluffier coat. The one I wear to the office is meant for looking pretty more than it is for keeping me warm. Like right now, for instance, I’ve tucked the collar up around my neck, but somehow, the wind is still biting at my skin like it’s personally reminding me that I’m an overly picky, judgmental jerk.

The wind is probably right.

I need to stop comparing every man I meet to Mike. He probably isn’t even who I’ve made him out to be. I mean, who knows what this guy does when he goes home at night. He probably sits in front of the TV with his hand in his pants and smokes cigars until he falls asleep.

I wish that was Mike. If it was, it wouldn’t be so hard to stop thinking about him. It wouldn’t be so hard to stop using him as the litmus for what all other men should be.