Christmas from Hell
Page 21

 
Where the hell was he? she wondered miserably as she shoveled yet more snow, waiting for the moment that the large jerk, and yes, she was starting to get mad at him for making her wait so that she could thank him properly, came out and shoveled his walkways and driveway. As soon as he got his butt outside, she would wave, pretend that she didn’t notice that he was ignoring her and thank him for what he did for her the other day.
 
Granted, he’d dragged her out from under the tree instead of giving her a chance to crawl out, which unfortunately lead to a lot of bruises, scrapes and cuts, but still…
 
It was the thought that counted, wasn’t it?
 
At least that’s what she told herself as she slipped, regained her footing and forced herself to continue shoveling, wondering why he hadn’t come out once since the storm began to shovel some of the snow away so that he wouldn’t be stuck shoveling all that snow later. Worrying her bottom lip, she stopped shoveling once she’d reached the walkway and glanced back at her house, wondering if she should just go inside, whip something up and bring it over, thank him and get it over with.
 
That would probably be-
 
“Ooof!” she gasped out in surprise as she suddenly found herself yanked back.
 
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the man that she’d been waiting all morning to thank for helping her, yelled as he tightened his arms around her and continued to drag her away from her house.
 
“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded instead, wondering how he’d gone from not being able to stand her to constantly dragging her around.
 
“What did I tell you the other day?” he snapped, instead of answering her, which wasn’t exactly helpful since he was still dragging her down the driveway and he sounded furious.
 
Maybe he was an ax-murderer? she wondered idly as she lost her hold on her shovel and dropped it, losing her only means of protection. Well, she could probably count her bad luck as protection, but then again, it probably wouldn’t strike when she needed it most, she thought with a despondent sigh when he finally stopped dragging her.
 
“Do you mean during your initial psychotic breakdown?” she asked with all seriousness as she pushed out of his arms, turned around and blinked up at him, wondering why out of all the men in the world did she have to fall for a guy that was, “Not all there,” as her Grandmother would have put it.
 
Necie would just flat out call him psychotically insane, probably not to his face considering that he was probably over two hundred pounds of pure muscle and looked really pissed, but she was definitely thinking it.
 
His right eye twitched as he glared down at her, kind of confirming her “Not all there,” suspicions. “When I had to drag your ass out from underneath that tree,” he bit out, enunciating every single syllable with a bit of a snarl.
 
“I could have probably crawled out of there, but you didn’t really give me a chance,” she stupidly pointed out, not to put down what he’d done for her, but she felt that it was necessary to point out that she wasn’t completely useless, which was the way that he made her feel whenever he looked at her.
 
She wasn’t useless.
 
She wasn’t pathetic.
 
She wasn’t-
 
“Shit!” he groaned miserably as his features softened and he pulled her into his arms, taking her by surprise and reinforcing her opinion that he’d lost his mind.
 
That is until she realized that she was crying.
 
As soon as she realized that she was making an even bigger fool of herself, she tried to pull away from him so that she could wipe the tears away, stop her damn lower lip from trembling and pretend that it didn’t hurt when he looked at her like she was nothing, but he refused to let her go.
 
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
 
“Let me go,” she said, hating the way her voice cracked, especially since the big jerk wasn’t listening.
 
“I’m so sorry,” he said, tightening his hold around her and making it impossible for her to escape his hold and run away before she made this any worse.
 
Then again, how could she make this any worse?
 
She could tell him how nervous he made her, how every time she saw him she could swear that butterflies were flying around in her stomach, she felt lightheaded, nervous and alive. Now that would make things absolutely perfect, she thought bitterly as she tried uselessly to get out of his arms. He wasn’t letting her go and soon, she stopped fighting him, grabbed onto his jacket and bit her lip, struggling desperately to stop crying.
 
“I’m so sorry, Necie,” he said hoarsely, kissing her forehead and making it worse, because she didn’t want his pity, didn’t want him to hold her and touch her like this because he felt bad for her.
 
She didn’t want him to see her like this, to think she was really this pathetic woman who couldn’t get out of her own way and needed someone to take care of her, because she was this pathetic woman that no one wanted.
 
She just wanted him to see her, to really see her and now, that would never happen.
 
 
Chapter 12
 
“I’m fine. You can go,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
 
As much as he would love to leave, to put some space between them and figure out what the fuck was happening to him, he couldn’t. Not just because his conscience wouldn’t allow him to walk away from her, not when she was clearly so upset about something, but because her house was freezing, her fireplace was empty, and her grandfather wasn’t there to take care of her.
 
Well, that and the fact that the electrical wires had been ripped clean from her house and were buried somewhere in the snow. He’d been lucky to get her in here without both of them getting fried on the spot and he didn’t really want to try his luck a second time. So, basically he was stuck with a woman that he couldn’t stand, but couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving.