Christmas Cancellation

2. KOL

Chapter two

A s I walked away from the cheeky blonde, her sass about the airlines and crew still irritated the hell out of me. She was a damn firecracker; that much was clear. Sure, she had the air of someone who’d never worked a hard day in her life—probably spoiled rotten by her parents—but there was something else about her, the way she challenged me, as though she were a wild mustang daring me to try and break her. Her fiery spirit and sharp tongue contrasted with her delicate features and petite frame, but it had stirred something reckless in me. I’d been compelled to confront her. People always have a way of chasing what’s bad for them, and I wasn’t immune. Maybe it was that instinct, that primeval pull to run straight at what could take you down, that appealed to me. Hell, that was how men like me ended up heading off to war.

Her half-hearted apology had come off as an invitation, as if she was letting me win this skirmish but wanted to take me on as a challenge she couldn’t resist—like she was testing me, curious to see if I could handle her. The way she’d been mouthing off about the flight cancellation had indeed made me want to either shut her up with a hard kiss or throttle her—maybe both. As I headed back toward my bags, I thought about how good those pouty lips would look wrapped around my cock, her deep blue eyes gazing up at me as she kneeled in front of me. Too bad she was such a smartass and full of herself, but damn if she wasn’t gorgeous.

I wondered how it would be to come home to a woman like her—feisty and hot-tempered, someone who would keep me on my toes. But, in reality, she was the kind of hassle I didn’t need. Too much attitude, too much trouble. But she was something else; I’d give her that.

Although I’d thought about marriage, it hadn’t been in the cards for me. I had always figured I would have plenty of time for that sort of thing once I was out of the Army, but here I was at thirty-four, still single, and the idea of settling down seemed like more of a joke with each passing year. Mom was always on me about finding a good Catholic wife, but I’d been able to dodge that bullet for years. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Women were more trouble than they were worth.

I had a nice, quiet cabin up in Rotterdam, and right now, the only person I had to worry about was me. Honestly, I liked it that way. My old man always joked that a good woman was hard to find, and an even better one—like my mom—was damn near impossible. He wasn’t wrong.

I walked past the gate agent’s station to where my luggage sat by the window, then reached into my flight bag and pulled out my tablet, tapping it awake to check my schedule. Crew scheduling had already updated it. All my flights for the day had been canceled, and I was willing to bet the rest of my trip would be too, with this storm coming in. It meant my whole day was down the drain with my commute, but at least I’d get to head back home. Silver linings, I guess.

Before I could dive deeper into my schedule, someone shouted my call sign across the terminal.

“Icehawk!”

I looked up to see Ryan McAllister charging toward me—his face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Ryan and I went way back to our first days in the Army. He grabbed my hand, pulling me into a one-arm hug.

“McAllister,” I said, grinning. “Been a minute, huh?”

Ryan chuckled, still holding onto my hand. “Hell yeah. Good to see you, man. How you been?”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “Not bad. You?”

He released my hand, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Good, good. The baby girl’s keeping us busy. She’s getting bigger by the day and got me wrapped around her little finger already.”

I smirked. “That’s what they do, I hear. How’s Scarlett holding up?”

Ryan’s expression softened a bit. “She had a rough go at first, what with the C-section and me being gone so much, but she’s tough. You know Scarlett.”

“Sorry to hear that. But I’m glad she’s doing better now,” I said, nodding. “Give her my best.”

Ryan took a step back, eyeing the new stripes on my uniform. “Look at you, Captain. Moving up in the world.”

I snorted. “Yeah, first flight off IOE just got canceled. Then I checked, and my other two flights for today are canned too. So now, it’s go-home day. ”

Ryan laughed, shaking his head. “Man, days like this, you gotta think the crew schedulers are about ready to shoot themselves.”

“No kidding,” I said, smirking. “Good for me though. I get to head back to the cabin.”

Ryan’s face lit up. “Speaking of which, we should get the guys together and come out to your place for a few days once the weather warms up. Do some fishing and kick back with a few beers. You know, live the good life. I’m damn envious of your setup.”

I shrugged. “It has its perks.”

Ryan gave me a sideways glance. “I still can’t believe no pretty blonde has cuffed you yet. What are you now, thirty-four? Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-four. And no, no blondes or brunettes or redheads either.” I cracked a smile. “I’ve seen too many times how this life plays out. Whether it’s in the Army or the airlines, some women are only after the paycheck and benefits. They want a baby daddy, not a partner. No thanks. I’ve seen divorce tear through too many guys in this line of work.”

Ryan grimaced, grabbing my shoulder. “I don’t know, having the right woman snuggled up warm and tight all night might be worth the risk as long as you have a good prenup.” He laughed at his own quip, but I shook my head.

“Yeah, well, if the right woman’s out there, she’s gotta be the exception, not the rule. Too many guys in this job end up in a nightmare, with half their paycheck gone. I’m not signing up for that.”

Ryan patted me on the back. “Good seeing you, Vinter. I gotta run though. Flight to Nashville. Take care of yourself, all right? ”

“Always do,” I replied, giving him a nod. “Safe flight, McAllister!” I called after him, watching him jog off, then stuffed my tablet back into my flight bag, ready to get the hell out of this place. As I turned to leave, I caught sight of the blonde again. She was brushing tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. She was all alone, looking like a stray puppy that had been kicked one too many times. Damn, she looked pitiful. Her words, “ I wish I’d never been born ,” played back in my head. Shit. That hit harder than I’d expected.

I had two younger sisters and a little brother. Growing up, I’d been taught to look out for them and always to do the right thing. I recognized her tone, that kind of desperation. It was the kind of thing I couldn’t just walk away from, not when I could do something about it. This girl needed help, and I was standing right here, more than able to provide it. Didn’t matter if I wanted to help or not—it wasn’t about me.

I was heading right through Albany on my way home to Rotterdam. I’d also overheard her complaining about needing to get to Saratoga Springs. Either way, I’d be passing close enough to make a quick detour. It wouldn’t be much out of my way to give her a ride. I’d already driven down from Rotterdam to LaGuardia this morning instead of catching one of the two flights I could have commuted in on. I liked having my truck at base so that I didn’t have to worry about missing the flight home and getting stuck needing a hotel.

That storm could be a problem, though, seeing as we’d be heading straight for it. And it looked like it was going to turn into a blizzard. But I was going regardless. Besides, if one of my sisters were stuck in a shitty situation and stranded in LaGuardia, I would hope someone decent stepped up to help.

Even though spending three hours locked in a car with a smart-mouthed princess who thought the world revolved around her was the last thing I needed today, what choice did I have? It was the right thing to do. After all, I’d handled worse in Afghanistan—the worst humanity had to offer, really. How bad could one elf of a girl be?

I tightened my grip on the flight bag and started toward her. She still had that lost look—all guarded and defensive, as if she was stuck in her own head. I planted myself right in front of her, casting a shadow over her small frame. She blinked up at me, her watery eyes going wide. She didn’t say a word; she just sat there, waiting for me to speak first.

“You got anywhere else to go?” I asked.

A little wrinkle formed between her brows in a flash of defiance. “Why do you care?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Because I’m driving through Albany, and it looks as though you need a ride. I heard you mention Saratoga Springs. It’s not that far outta my way. Figured I’d offer.”

She sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve again. “And why would I get in a car with a strange man, some playboy pilot?” Clenching her jaw, she glared at me. Stubbornness was written all over her face, as though she hated the idea of needing anything from me.

“Because right now, I’m the best option you’ve got,” I said. “And coming with me is a lot safer than sleeping in this terminal. Not to mention, I’ve been vetted and verified more times than you can imagine. Served as a Night Stalker in the Army, and pilots go through FBI background checks to get hired. You’re looking at one of the most checked-out people you’re likely to meet.”

She narrowed her eyes, a hint of a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “So, you’re a stalker. That’s supposed to make me feel better? ”

I let out a low chuckle. “Night Stalker. It’s an aviation unit, not the creepy kind of stalker.”

“Not so sure about the not being creepy part.” She eyed me warily. Her mouth opened, then closed, as if she was trying to come up with some smart remark while weighing her options.

I waited, crossing my arms, then added, “Trust me, sweetheart, in a hub like New York, cancellations for weather cause a domino effect. By now, all the hotels and rental cars are booked. I’m just giving you an option that doesn’t involve sleeping on the airport floor for the next few days.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I already figured that much out, Mr. Captain,” she quipped.

Damn, this girl had a mouth on her. “Well, enjoy the floor then,” I said, turning to walk away. “Merry Christmas.”

I made it a few steps before she let out an exasperated huff behind me. “Wait!” she shouted, and I stopped and turned back to her.

“You’re serious?” she asked.

“Why else would I offer? Look, we’re both going the same way. Saves you from spending a fortune on a last-minute rental or a fleabag hotel. Besides,” I added, smirking, “you don’t strike me as the type who enjoys being stranded for the holidays.”

She let out a dry laugh and gave me a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Fine. I’ll take the ride. But if you try anything—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, cutting her off brusquely. “You’ll scratch my eyes out or some shit. Got it. Just grab your stuff, Stinkerbelle. We’re burning daylight, and I’d rather not have to drive in that snowstorm heading straight toward Albany any longer than I have to. ”

She scrunched up her face, and with that, I started walking away from her again.

She mumbled to herself as she scrambled to her feet and grabbed her things, her spiky boots tapping against the floor. “Why do I always end up in these situations? With my luck, he’s probably a serial killer. But what choice do I have? Gotta get home…gotta sign those damn papers…can’t sleep on the airport floor…”

I kept walking, a grin spreading across my face. As she moved to catch up to me, she kept up her half-muttered rant, her words tumbling out as though she were debating with herself more than with me. “All right, all right, stranger danger and all that aside, I have no other way to get there on time.” When she stepped up beside me, she was fumbling with her bags, trying to get herself organized. “I guess I have no choice but to trust you. It’s not as if there’s another way to Saratoga, and I really have to get there today.”

I couldn’t believe how she kept going on and on about it—did the girl ever stop talking? When she stopped for a breath, I glanced her way. She scrutinized me for a moment.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it. But I warn you,” she said, straightening up and trying to look tough, “I’m a green belt in American Mixed Martial Arts.”

I chuckled. If she had any clue who I was, she probably wouldn’t be bragging. Green belt? Cute. I’d spent years doing CQC training and grappling with guys twice her size. I’d been in more hand-to-hand combat situations than I could count, and none of them involved students from some half-assed martial arts studio at a strip mall.

“Yeah, well, that’s all good and well,” I said, not bothering to hide my amusement, “but I don’t think you could fight your way out of a paper bag in those spiky boots. You got any reasonable shoes in that bag?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, reasonable shoes? I’m wearing boots. The perfect winter shoe. They can be used to dress up a nice outfit or worn casually with jeans.”

I stared at her, stone-faced, not letting even a twitch of my amusement show. “Doesn’t mean shit if we end up walking in two feet of snow.”

She pressed her lips together, clearly not happy with the criticism.

“Did you check any bags?” I asked.

“No checked bags, just what I brought as carry-ons.”

“Good,” I said. “Let’s get moving. From the forecast, we’ll be cutting it close to get upstate before the worst of the weather hits.”

I led her through the terminal at my usual pace, my long strides eating up the distance fast. Years of running to catch planes had me used to navigating crowded airports with the precision of a man on a mission. The holiday chaos swirled around us—families shouting at one another, people dragging oversized luggage around, kids crying about dropped candy canes or stuffed animals. The overhead announcements were barely able to cut through the noise. Christmas at LaGuardia was always a zoo, but today, it was as though the gates of hell had opened and unleashed every traveler in the world on the East Coast.

Behind me, the mouthy blonde tried hard to keep up, her boots clacking furiously against the tile floor. I glanced over my shoulder. She was struggling to weave through the crowd, her suitcase bouncing along behind her.

“Hey, Mr. Captain!” she called out, her breath coming in short bursts. “What’s the rush? Are we late for a flight or something? Or do you just like running around as if your hair’s on fire?”

Not breaking my stride, I chuckled and called back, “This is my normal pace. Trust me, if I were running, I’d have left you behind after two gates.”

She muttered something under her breath and kept hustling to stay close, but just then, some guy in a Christmas sweater barreled into her. Her suitcase toppled over, and she stumbled forward. Overcompensating, she then pitched back, her arms flailing, a yelp escaping her lips. Her red coat and bag flew out of her hands. Yep, she was going down. Before she hit the floor, my instincts kicked in. I dropped my bag and reached out, grabbing her around the waist. When I yanked her up, her body collided with mine, her hands landing flat against my chest.

Soft curves pressed against me as I gripped her hips with both hands, holding her in place. Her scent wrapped around us, a warm blend of vanilla with a hint of cinnamon, rich and sweet, like a holiday treat. Her breath hitched, those ocean-like blue eyes widening as she gazed up at me, clouded with raw desire. The way she focused on me, as if she wasn’t sure whether to thank me or slap me, made my pulse kick up a notch. Damn, there was a spark there—a heat I hadn’t expected.

Moving her so that she could stand upright, I leaned in and asked, “Are you okay?” My mouth was so close to her ear that her hair was brushing against my cheek.

She pulled back slightly, her hands still on my chest. “Yeah… Thanks. Good save.”

I let go, but the space between us seemed charged now, as if something electric had passed through.

After taking a deep breath, she brushed herself off, then straightened her ridiculous boots.

I snatched up her suitcase and hooked it to mine, my flight bag dangling from the top. She spun around and leaned over in front of me to gather up her fancy bag and coat. As I watched her, my mind jumped to thoughts of taking her from behind. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook off the mental snapshot. Fuck! What was this girl doing to me?

“Come on,” I said, heading toward the exit. “We’ve got a shuttle to catch. Try not to get run over this time.”

She shot me a glare, but there was a hint of a smile on her face too. “It wasn’t my fault. You’re the one flying through here like a bat out of hell.”

I didn’t bother to slow down; I just glanced over at her. “Are you always that clumsy? Because if you keep throwing yourself at strangers, I’m gonna have to charge a rescue fee.” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You know, some people walk without making it an Olympic event.”

She muttered something about me being a smartass, but she managed to keep up, practically trotting alongside as we made our way through the throng of holiday travelers. At one point, a kid nearly plowed into us with one of those rolling backpacks, and she jumped to the side, bumping into me again. I steadied her without saying a word, cutting through the crowd like a hot knife through butter, dragging our bags behind me.

We finally made it outside, the cold air smacking us in the face. She pulled on her coat and fastened it tightly around her waist, shivering a bit as we maneuvered over to the shuttle pick-up lane. One of the employee buses had pulled up, and I motioned for her to get on ahead of me.

She hesitated for a moment, looking over at me with narrowed eyes, probably still wondering if I was a serial killer, but then she stepped up onto the shuttle. I lifted our suitcases into the luggage area inside and turned to the driver .

“B2, please,” I said, taking a seat across from my feisty blonde companion as the door closed behind us.

The shuttle jerked forward, and I braced myself against the seat, studying her. She was still working to catch her breath, her cheeks a little flushed from our sprint through the airport. Her hands fidgeted with the tote on her lap while her gaze flitted about and she took stock of the situation. Finally, she inhaled a sharp breath and turned toward me.

“I guess since we’re sharing a ride, I should introduce myself. I’m Noelle Nichols.”

“Noelle?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like in the Christmas Carol ? Were you born on December twenty-fifth or something?”

She rolled her eyes as her lips quirked in a subtle grin. “No, July third actually. I’m a total Cancer. My parents just loved Christmas.”

I blinked. “A total what now? Cancer? You sick or something?”

She burst out laughing, as though she couldn’t believe how clueless I was. The sound of her laughter was cute. “No, not that kind of cancer. The zodiac sign. Cancer. You know, astrology?”

I shook my head. “Can’t say I do.”

“Well,” she started, leaning back into her seat as if preparing to give a lecture, “Cancers are known to be homebodies. Comfort, family—that’s our thing. We’re nurturing, emotional, fiercely loyal, and protective of those we care about.” There was a hint of a smile on her lips as she continued, “Imaginative, maybe a little moody, and definitely not fans of change. I’m a textbook Cancer, through and through.”

I listened as she rattled off this list, nodding occasionally, but my mind drifted a bit. All I really caught were the words “homebodies” and “moody.” It was as though she was speaking a different language .

“I used to love riding horses,” she continued. “A total Cancer thing, you know? Being outdoors but still craving the comfort of home. And I could spend hours in the kitchen, baking mostly—comfort food and things like that. My mom always said—” She stopped abruptly, as if someone had flipped a switch. The animation drained from her face, and she lowered her eyes. Her shoulders tensed, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. Something had hit a nerve. Her entire demeanor had changed, stopping whatever thought had started to slip out—a complete shutdown.

Then it hit me. It was the brief mention of her mom that had made her clam up. There was a story there; that much was clear. But based on the way she was crossing her arms and staring out the window, she wasn’t about to share it.

She clenched her jaw and tapped her fingers nervously on her leg. I remained silent. I wasn’t about to dig any deeper.

“So, Captain Vinter,” she said after a long while, breaking the silence with that snarky tone I was learning was her go-to defensive mechanism. “Or is it Iceman? Do you have a first name?”

“Kol,” I replied. “And my call sign is Icehawk. Iceman is from the movie Top Gun .”

She stared at me for a second before bursting into a fit of giggles, her laugh echoing through the nearly empty shuttle. “Oh my God! Kol? Like what bad kids get in their stockings!? Talk about being perfect for Christmas! Did your parents know you were going to be a naughty boy?”

I smirked, trying to keep a straight face. “Real original.”

“No, seriously!” she continued, her laughter only growing. “And Vinter? Winter in some language like Swedish, right? So you’re like the coldest coal ever! What’s next, Captain Frostbite?”

I glared at her, but she was on a roll .

“Wait, wait—Kol Vinter? So what, did your parents want you to be the Viking villain in some Christmas special? I bet you were born during a snowstorm, right?”

Wordlessly, I raised an eyebrow.

“Let me guess, your middle name is something like Blizzard . Do you have a cousin named Storm ? Or, wait—are you secretly flying Santa’s sleigh on the side?”

Glancing around at the other passengers, I crossed my arms and sat back. She kept going, each comment more idiotic than the last.

“I can just see it now,” she said, “ Kol Vinter : Santa’s enforcer, delivering coal and icy stares to all the naughty girls. I mean, it all fits—a pilot who navigates through snowstorms, dropping coal from thirty thousand feet! I bet you’ve got the whole cold-hearted captain thing down. Did your parents plan this out, or did it just happen naturally?”

She was now practically in tears, doubling over with laughter, while I sat there, forcing myself to keep a straight face as she unraveled over her own jokes.

Finally, when she started to calm down and wipe the tears from her eyes, I asked, “You done?”

She rolled her lips in, another giggle slipping out, but she nodded.

I leaned in, saying in a low voice, “Because I can think of a few ways to put that smart mouth of yours to better use.”

Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating. She froze, not making a single sound, as if she was holding her breath. Her reaction was priceless. I’d hit a nerve.

Before she could utter a comeback, the bus jerked to a stop, and the driver called out, “B2!”

Noelle blinked, breaking the spell. She grabbed her tote and stepped off the shuttle without saying a word, leaving me to grab our suitcases. I watched her saunter ahead with a little sway in her hips. What a damn diva.

I cleared my throat. “My truck’s this way.”

She flipped her thick, curly blonde hair over her shoulder, then turned and followed me. When we reached my Bronco, she paused, her eyes widening a bit. She appraised the vehicle, giving an appreciative nod.

“Nice ride,” she said, running a hand along the hood. “I’ve always thought the new Broncos were badass. I like the color too. Race Red, right? And the lift kit—it’s perfect for snow.”

She’d noticed the lift. Not bad. “Yeah, I’m a fan. Gets the job done.”

I tossed our luggage into the back and shrugged off my uniform jacket, throwing it onto the backseat, on top of my leather bomber jacket. I hadn’t thought I’d need the bomber for this trip, but with the snowstorm turning into a real doozy, I was glad I had it.

As I rolled up my sleeves, Noelle opened the door and reached up for the inside handle. She wasn’t tall enough to step up into the vehicle easily. Swiftly, I moved to her side of the vehicle and slid my hands around her waist, giving her a solid boost up into the passenger seat.

She blinked at me in surprise. “Didn’t peg you for the chivalrous type, Mr. Captain.”

I shrugged, giving her a slight grin as I let go of her waist. “My momma raised me right.”