Thirty, forty, fifty minutes into the drive and her heart hammered painfully. Every mile seemed more hopeless than the last.
Signs of civilization appeared ahead. A gas station overhang lit up the night. She slowed down and cased the parking lot for any sign of a truck and trailer large enough to haul a reindeer. “Nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing . . .”
She rolled through town, which didn’t take long. On the other end was another gas station.
Parked at the lone pump on the far end of town was a black Dodge with a lift kit hauling a stock trailer, and between the slats she could just make out Felix’s antlers. “Bingo.” She slammed on the brakes and her car skidded to the side of the road.
She pulled forward so she was out of the lane and hurried to the truck and flung open the driver’s door–hoping to catch the man off guard enough that she scared him as much as he’d scared her.
“Gah!” Grandma, sitting in the passenger seat, threw her hands in the air, dropping her knitting into her lap. “Clove?” she asked in surprise.
“Grandma,” Clove hissed. She lifted on her tip-toes to see over the front of the truck. There was a man in a cowboy hat at the counter paying for two hot chocolates. Clove glanced back at the trailer. Even if she managed to get Felix and Grandma out before he came back, she wouldn’t have a way to get Felix home.
He could fly.
And expose his talent to the whole county, ruin their quiet life, and possibly be taken in by the government to study in Area 51. Not going to happen! In an adrenaline-fueled rush, she jumped in the cab and started the truck. She’d turn the tables on this thief and set things right.
“What are you doing?” Grandma braced a hand on the dash.
“I’m taking you both home–where you belong.” Clove shoved the truck into gear and slammed on the gas. They lurched forward, the truck weighed down by the trailer. Felix bellowed his protest from the trailer. “Yeah. Yeah. Hold on,” she told him. Not that he could hear her up here.
“Stop!” Grandma told her.
The man came out of the convenience store and stared at them.
Clove eased them forward, moving too fast. She cranked the wheel so they could make a U-turn, excited and proud of herself for pulling off a rescue. “Take that, Allen,” she cheered.
“Allen?” Grandma turned to look behind them as if Allen was right there in his police cruiser. She turned back and shouted, “Watch out!”
The truck lurched to a stop, and metal groaned. Something popped. Clove pressed the gas, making the engine growl. They didn’t move.
“Hey!” yelled the cowboy as he threw the hot chocolates to the side and ran for the truck. He wrenched open Grandma’s door. “Hannah, are you okay?”
Clove stared at the familiar stranger in the brown hat. Part of her noted that it looked as good on him as she’d thought it would. “You!” She pointed a shaky finger. Her world flipped on the side.
Grandma nodded to him. “I’m okay. I had on my seatbelt.”
“We were going two miles an hour,” Clove grumbled as she slipped open the door and slid to the ground to inspect the damage. She’d turned too sharp and caught the trailer on the metal post, denting it. The trailer tipped to the side. It didn’t look right nor good. “Dagnabbit.”
The cowboy came around and glared at the damage. He slapped his hand on his thigh. “Cinnamon sticks!”
He was angry? HE was angry.Oh, heck-to-the-no!She pointed at him. “You don’t get to be upset about this.”
His eyebrows disappeared beneath his chocolate brown cowboy hat. “You wreck my truck andIdon’t get to be upset? How does that work?”
She drew herself up. “You kidnapped my grandma.”
“Did not.” He scoffed at her as his eyes cut to the side.
Clove narrowed her gaze. “You did, didn’t you?”
He pressed his lips shut and denied the accusation with a curt shake of his head.
“Did you see my note, dear?” Grandma called from the cab in a soothing tone. Like this was all just some big misunderstanding and once they got it sorted, they’d laugh about it.
Clove turned to her, unable to hold eye contact with the cowboy for long. His gaze was so intense it made her aware that she hadn’t put on mascara before choir practice and that she’d worn a helmet and not fixed her hair. “I saw your vague and unhelpful note. Thank. You. I also tried to call and you didn’t answer your phone. It’s not like you to run off with a man, Grandma. You can’t blamemefor being worried.”
Grandma sniffed. “I ran off with your grandpa.”
