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I sighed and rested my hand on his. The radio was as old as the Bronco and Silent Night crackled through its speakers as we idled at the stoplight. “It’s the only station in town at night.” Jack pointed to the radio without taking his hand from its spot on my leg. It sounded like he was apologizing, but the version of Silent Night was hauntingly beautiful.
“It’s alright. It’s pretty.” What had happened to me? Two days earlier I would’ve rather sat in dead silence, or listened to anything other than Christmas music.
The light turned green and I suddenly hated the fact that his vehicle was a manual transmission. I shivered when he removed his hand to shift gears, the warmth of his palm had been keeping my entire body warm. It must have been the adrenaline, or the anticipation of what was going to happen next. Jack was sexy and raw, brawn and brains, and his ruggedness something that seemed so rare, it felt like I was sitting next to an endangered creature.
“How was your conversation with Charlotte? Or was it an interview?” He asked while focusing on the road ahead.
“It was an interview, she agreed to be quoted for the story.” Charlotte had given me exactly the information I needed for my story. The bar fight and the couples drama, along with the drunks, and the drug deal I witnessed in the bathroom were all going to help me spin the story in the direction that it needed to go – dark - to contrast the lightness of the Christmas movie. Mary’s voice echoed in my head, though, and I hoped that Jack wasn’t going to ask me for more details.
Jack inhaled and looked like he wanted to say something, but then stopped.
“What? What is it?” I urged, but with a little trepidation. I was reluctantly ready to answer the question about the nature of the story – if he asked.
He shifted gears and then rubbed his beard. “It’s just that Charlotte, well, she’s not your typical Rapidian. She’s kind of…unique.”
“I know.” I agreed. “She’s got quite the Cinderella story.”
“And, remember in that story, Cinderella didn’t have the best start to her life.”
I wondered where he was going with this. “I remember. But, in the end everything worked out for Cinderella – and Charlotte.”
The lights of the town had disappeared behind us, and the stars shone brightly over the snow-capped peaks. The moon was almost full and lit up the landscape so brightly I doubted that we even needed the headlights. “I just think that you might want to interview a few other people – you know, people that work hard and live ‘normal’ lives.” He took his hands from the steering wheel to make air quotes.
“What is normal, Jack?” I was curious.
“Are you interviewing me?” He raised his right eyebrow, a gesture I noticed that he did when he was entertained.
“Should I?” I tried to raise one eyebrow, but both shot up. “Are you normal? Didn’t you leave and come back too?”
He chuckled. “I guess you got me. You should ask my mom. I’m sure she’d be happy to be in your story.”
Oh God. I couldn’t do that to Muriel. Just like I couldn’t do it to Mary. “Do you know Mary at the Last Chance?” I asked.
“Mary Fisher?”
“Yes! What’s her story?”
Jack rubbed his beard. “I don’t really know. I think that her husband died years ago – he was a bit of a drunk. I think that she’s friends with my mom. I know that I’ve seen her at square dancing.”
Silent Nightended andRockin’ Around the Christmas Treestarted playing. “Square dancing?”
Jack’s smile couldn’t be hidden by his beard, the sides of his lips turned up. “It’s…”
I laughed. “I know what it is, I’m trying to figure out why you were there.” I was waiting for him to tell me that he dropped his mom off and that how he saw Mary.
“When my dad is busy at work, I go with my mom. It’s actually kind of fun.”
“You? You go to…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, it seemed so preposterous. This gorgeous man with muscles upon muscles, dosey doed with senior citizens? I reached across and took off his hat. He’d worn it all evening, even in the sub-tropical temperatures in the Beardog Brewery.
He gave me the one eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“How old are you?” I asked. I still hadn’t been able to figure it out and handed him the hat.
“Were you checking to see if I was bald under there?” He ran his hand through his thick mane of brown hair that curled at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I can’t tell if you’re twenty-five, or forty.”
“Forty?” There was the eyebrow again.
