“That sounds nice.”
“And my father makes his homemade hot chocolate with multicolored marshmallows on top,” she said.
“Uh huh.”
“And Mom fills the house will all these treats. Chocolate-dipped coconut balls and white chocolate-dipped peanut butter Ritz crackers. Peppermint bark and German chocolate cake. She makes everything from scratch, and I can never get enough of it.”
“Sounds nice,” I said.
“And Dad puts this cinnamon broomstick in every room of the house, so it always smells like Christmas, and Mom leaves the Christmas tree on all night and sips apple cider beside it after we’re done watching our traditional Christmas movie at night. We watch one every night from the start of December, all the way to Christmas night.”
“Sounds nice,” I said.
“You already said that.”
“Doesn’t mean the sentiment’s changed.”
I felt her gaze on me as her voice silenced, and I allowed myself to soak in the moment. I knew pretty soon, she’d find something else to drone on about, so I took it while I could get it. And I had to admit, her Christmas traditions did sound nice.
Since she had people to spend time with and all.
“Do you have anyone to spend Christmas with?” she asked.
But all I could answer her with was a groan. Would this woman ever stop talking?
Chapter 4
Abby
I was honestly just trying to figure this guy out. Never in my life had I met anyone so impartial to the idea of Christmas. Or the holiday season, in general. I bet if I asked him what he did for Thanksgiving, he’d tell me he ordered a pizza while planning his next business meeting. The man was as rigid as they came, and I was beginning to wonder if he simply hated everything that was supposed to bring someone the tiniest bit of joy.
And that groan he gave me when I asked him that question. What in the world was up with that?
“Well, do you?” I asked.
“Do I what?”
“Have anyone to celebrate Christmas with?” I asked.
And still, I got no answer out of him.
It was like he didn’t care. He acted like the idea of the holidays meant nothing to him. There was no joy in his eyes and no excitement to go see family. Did the man even have a family? Maybe I could steal his phone and Google it again.
“Do you not want to spend time with your family?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you even have family?”
“Yes,” he said.
“So, you have family, but you don’t want to spend time with them?” I asked.
“Believe it or not, not everyone comes from a loving, supportive family.”
I turned my entire body to look at him, and I could tell I was making him uncomfortable. At the beginning of this ride, I would’ve found it a point of pride, but now, I knew I was sinking into personal territory, and I just couldn’t let go of it. This was my chance to get to know him. To really figure out how this man ticked.
After all, I only had seven more hours with him before he would drop me off and be gone forever.
“So, drop the family thing,” I said. “Got it. You don’t have a girlfriend to spend the holidays with?”
“Nope.”
“No one to decorate the Christmas tree with?” I asked.
“No.”
“No one to cuddle while the two of you sip hot chocolate or apple cider?” I asked.
“The mere fact that I don’t have a girlfriend should answer the remaining questions rattling around in your empty head,” he said.
“Yikes. You don’t have to be cruel about it.”
I heard him sigh as I turned around and faced the highway. Yeah, he really was a Grinch. Of course, I’d be stuck riding with someone who didn’t give a shit about my favorite time of year. I was stuck in a car for seven more hours with a man who wanted nothing but silence, and what in the world was I supposed to do? Twiddle my thumbs and sit here like a bump on a log?
“You should consider getting a girlfriend,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because despite the fact that you’re a jerk, I think you’d be good at spoiling her.”
“And what is your argument base for that?” he asked.
“My argument base?”
“Yes, what is your proof that I’d be good at spoiling a woman?” he asked.
“Wow, you really are a peach. Okay. My proof is this: cold men like you are always softies on the inside.”
“Your proof is a stereotype,” he said.
“Stereotypes are borne from a truth,” I said. “They might be blown out of proportion in movies and books, but tropes exist for a reason. Stereotypes bleed an inherent truth about the box someone has put themselves into. Not because they willingly put themselves in a box, but because of how the mind hardwires itself when someone first begins their journey to that box. Cold, stern, stoic men like yourself aren’t that way because you choose to be. You’re that way because you have to be. But cold, stern, and stoic doesn’t allow your body to indulge in the chemical reactions and the hormones your body releases on a daily basis. You’ve become very good at keeping control because your life probably waged out of control for a long time.”
I watched him slowly pan his gaze over toward me. I could tell he was taking in every single word I was saying, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.
He wasn’t the only one with hidden talents up his sleeves.
“Men like you aren’t cold because they are naturally cold,” I said. “You’re cold and mean and unforgiving because you have the last little bit of softness that you’re trying so hard to protect. You want to wait and see who’ll dig through all
