Stuck With My Christmas Crush (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Charlie

J ason’s curry laksa noodle soup is piping hot and delicious. The heat of the soup and the chili heat warm me to my toes so much so, I pause eating to take off Jason’s homespun sweater. I sit cross-legged on the couch. Jason sits in the chair opposite. We’re quiet while we eat. Although I am aware of the noise I’m making as I slurp my noodles and of appearing less than cultured in the company of my fine-looking host. Sleet hits the window and the wind howls down the chimney.

“When we’re done,” Jason says. “We’ll go and take a look at your car.”

“Great.”

“I have another rain jacket, so you don’t get soaked again. And you can try my hiking boots. They’re going to be way too big, but they’ll keep your feet warm and dry out there.”

“Thanks.” My nose is running with the heat of the spicy soup, so I get some tissue from the bathroom. In the steamed-up mirror, I see how my cheeks are rosy like a painted doll’s. I mop up a dribble of laksa from my chin and congratulate myself on being the messiest eater in the world.

“You okay in there?”

“Yeah. I always seem to wear my food,” I shout through the door. “It’s the reason I’m still single,” I say to my reflection before returning to the living room.

Jason has collected the bowls and taken them to the kitchen.

“All set?” he says holding out a raincoat for me.

“Sure.”

Rocko jumps down from the chair and wags his tail.

“You stay here, boy.” Jason smooshes Rocko’s face between his hands then strokes the animal’s enormous head .

“I have some tools in the truck. But I won’t know what to do until I look under the hood.”

“Are you a mechanic?”

“Engineer. It’s about the same thing. I usually work on really big engines. That’s about the only difference.”

Outside, Jason pulls his hood over his head against the horizontal sleet and dashes to the gate to open it up. I climb into the cab of the Chevy and Jason joins me soon after. In the short time of being outside our raincoats are slick with water.

“I hope Bertie hasn’t blown away in the storm.”

“Bertie?”

“My car. His name is Bertie the Beetle.”

“Of course it is.” Jason laughs then starts the Chevy and reverses out of the gate.

It only takes a few minutes to drive down the narrow lane that seemed to go on forever when I was walking up it earlier. Bertie is, thankfully, still there waiting, forlorn and broken, at the side of the road.

“Okay. You pop the hood, and I’ll have a look,” Jason says reaching for a toolbox behind the driver’s seat.

I don’t want to get out of the warm dry cab, but Jason is already at the front of Bertie waiting for me to unlock the door and pop the hood. I take a deep breath then make a dash for my car, get the key in the lock, and open the door. I throw myself onto the driver’s seat.

Inside Bertie smells of musty damp mixed with strawberry hair product. Every surface is sprinkled with pink glitter. I pull the rain jacket hood over my head and join Jason at the engine. He looks serious and wipes his oily hands on a rag.

“We’ll try the jumper cables,” Jason shouts above the din of the lashing rain. “But I’m sorry to say that it’s maybe something more than a dead battery.”

I stand to one side as Jason attaches the red and black cables to the battery points in Bertie’s engine, then he opens the hood of the Chevy and clips them on in there too. His progress is hampered by sideways rain that blows in bucketloads. I think I’ll need another hot shower and a change of clothes after this episode, and I’ve only been standing out here for a few minutes. Jason jumps into the driver’s seat and starts up the Chevy. He pumps the accelerator which makes the engine roar.

“Hey, Charlie. You’re getting soaked again. Hop in, out of the rain.”

Jason’s sensible suggestion clicks me out of my mental fog, and I scurry round to the passenger door of the Chevy, open it, and hop inside .

“This storm is getting worse,” says Jason as he turns on the radio which is playing the Christmas classic, ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’. “We should get a weather update soon.”

“I love this one!” I can’t help singing along and dancing in my seat. I expect Jason to join in with the chorus, but he just stares at me.

“Come on, Jason. Sing it with feeling, ‘All I want for Christmas is you!’” I belt out the lyrics at the top of my lungs as if I am possessed by the spirit of Mariah Carey. Jason blinks and sighs patiently. I feel self-conscious and stop singing. “Alright. Well, maybe not this particular Christmas song but the next one? We’ll see, huh?”

The next song is Boney M, ‘Mary’s Boychild’.

“Ah, no. This one’s not one of my favorites.” Jason fixes me with an accusatory stare as if I am the ax murderer. I shrug and stare back. “What?”

“Here we are, at the side of the road, in a storm, and you’re singing along to Christmas songs?”

“Yeah. Tis the season to be jolly, falalalalah-lala-la-lah. Where’s your Christmas spirit?” Jason blows out another long sigh. “Alright. What’s your favorite song, then?”

“I don’t have a favorite. They’re all garbage.” He shakes his head. “I don’t really like Christmas. At all. ”

I gasp. “Don’t like Christmas?” And I’m about to follow up with, “What is wrong with you?” but I remember my manners, and that Jason is rescuing me, so I smile and say, “Did you have a bad Christmas experience growing up?”

“No. Why do you say that?”

“No reason.” I stare straight ahead. “Just a vibe I’m getting.”

“A vibe.”

“Yes. It’s… I’m sensitive to a person’s energy. You know, their aura.”

Jason starts laughing. “You are one out of box, alright, fairy. Unique. There’s only one of you, right? At least I hope that’s the case.”

“Oh. Okay. I get it. I appreciate you helping me. And I’ll remember to keep my opinions to myself.”

The song finishes and the announcer comes on.

“Looks like we’re all set for a white Christmas, folks.”

I squeal with excitement and clap my hands. “Yay!” Jason rolls his eyes at me.

The radio guy continues. “The latest from the weather office is this. A blizzard is due to strike in the next few hours, so here’s what the emergency services advise. Number one: stay home. Do not travel. Number two: make sure you have candles and flashlights ready and waiting in preparation for a power outage. Number three: look after each other. Hunker down. This is going to be a big one.”

“Oooh. That’s not good.” I bite my lip. My earlier enthusiasm is squashed like a bug.

The radio announcer continues, “In case you just joined us, the latest weather report is rated as code red. That’s code R.E.D., everyone. Stay home. Stay safe. We’ll be here to keep you updated. Now, another Christmas classic from The Ronettes, ‘Frosty the Snowman’.” As the intro of Phil Spector’s unmistakable tune begins to play, the announcer says with zeal, “Ha! There’s going to be a whole heap of snow soon, so stand by, Frosty. You’re sure to get a whole lot of snow buddies. Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas, everybody.”

“Oh, boy.” Jason clenches his jaw. The Chevy engine is still running but the charge of energy has disappeared from the inside of the cab. “Do you want to try and get Bertie going? I mean, if he’s up to it, you could still get to the city before the storm hits.”

“It’s worth a go,” I say with my perkiest, brightest smile as I open the door and prepare to dart out to my car, although the oversized hiking boots threaten to trip me up.

I take a deep breath then scamper, as if moving fast is going to make a difference to how wet I get. I open Bertie’s driver’s door and climb in. Jason watches through the windshield of the Chevy in front. I can just about see him behind the open hood of my ancient Beetle. I hear the Chevy’s engine rev, and I send up a prayer to the gods of car mechanics as turn the key in Bertie’s ignition.

Click.

Nothing. I try it again, foolishly expecting a different outcome.

Click.

Jason shuts off the Chevy and mimes a throat slice, the international signal for ‘Stop what you are doing. It’s useless. Everything is useless.’ He jumps out of the cab and splashes over to remove the jumper cables from Bertie, and then unclips them from the battery in the Chevy. I get out and join him in the sideways rain.

“It didn’t work.”

“No.”

“What now?” I shout over the increasing noise of wind and rain. Jason waves me in the direction of the Chevy. He coils the jumper cables and jumps into the driver’s seat. I clamber in the passenger side and take off my hood.

“Here’s my suggestion,” says Jason turning toward me. Rain drips from his beard. He wipes it away with the back of his hand .

“Okay. Go ahead. I’m all ears,” I say, although I’m thinking about Jason’s beard and how nice it would be to run my fingers through.

“I’ll tow you back to the hotel. I’m guessing the roadside recovery guys won’t be out tomorrow because of the code-red weather warning. You can call them to update your location and status. That way you will be removed from the search and rescue critical list, otherwise emergency crews will be out looking for you, okay?”

“Sure. If that’s alright. Then, let’s do it.”

Jason nods. “Right. Here’s what we’re going to do next. Your car…”

“Bertie.”

“Yes, Bertie, needs to be facing the other way.” Jason points up the hill toward the hotel. “So, you’re going to steer. And I’ll push. Got it?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. So, the road isn’t wide enough to push it round in one go. We need to make a three-point turn. Forward, back, then forward again.”

“I know what a three-point turn is.” I get the feeling that Jason thinks I’m an imbecile.

“I just need to be clear because we’re doing this together. We’re a team, Charlie.”

“Alright,” I say opening the door. “Let’s do this. ”

I run to Bertie’s driver's door and throw myself in. Jason runs to the back and taps on the roof to let me know that he’s ready. I release the handbrake and slowly I feel my little car crawl forward. I pull the steering wheel over as far as I can. Before I hit the bank on the other side of the road, Jason taps the roof again. Then he sprints round to the front and heaves Bertie backwards with me steering the opposite way this time. Another tap on the roof and Jason is at the back again pushing Bertie with all his might but we hardly make any headway because of the upwards incline. Jason taps the roof then appears at my window. I wind it down to hear what he has to say.

“I’m going to push you back down the hill, so steer over behind the Chevy. Careful to cover your brake, in case you pick up too much speed. You don’t want to end up in the ditch.”

I nod and wind the window up as Jason gets in front and leans onto the hood. The slight gradient works in our favor this time and I easily coast backward to smoothly rest behind Jason’s truck.

I look for Jason, to see if I get the thumbs up for a job well done, but he has disappeared. In a moment he returns from the Chevy’s cab with a coil of rope. Without hesitation, he drops to the ground and secures the rope hook somewhere on Bertie’s underside. It makes a scraping noise and a vibration beneath my feet. He then jumps up and masterfully takes the other end and hooks it to the rear end of the Chevy. In a moment he’s back at my window.

“Alright, Charlie. Have you been towed before? I’m guessing yes.”

“Why yes?” I’m indignant at the assumption.

“Because of the car you drive. It’s old. Anyway...”

“Yes. Yes, I’ve been towed before, so… Shall we?”

“Just hold your foot over the brake,” Jason shouts with authority. “I know we’re mostly going uphill, but I don’t want you to rear-end my truck, okay? Although, I think Bertie would come off much worse than the big old Chevy.”

“Sure. Got it. It’s not that far. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Charlie, that is not a question you should be asking.” Jason straightens up and taps Bertie’s roof. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

I wind up the window and prepare to steer, still feeling prickly about Jason’s bossiness. But I let it go because he’s helping me out. Big time. And also, I’m a bit overwhelmed with his handsome heroics. No one has ever thrown themselves on the wet cold ground at my feet before. I get the sense that he is quite the capable man and, if I was attracted to him before this moment, I am actually falling in love now. But he does have an attitude and also, he’s more than a little negative, especially around Christmas and fairies. But we can work on that when we…

“Okay, Charlie?” Jason shouts before he gets into the Chevy.

I toot Bertie’s horn a couple of times and wave although I’m pretty sure Jason isn’t looking.

The Chevy’s taillights blaze in the gloom, as Jason slowly pulls away. The tow rope extends out straight then I feel the tug as it pulls on my car. Then I remember to release the handbrake, and I jolt forward as if I’ve been kicked from behind.

“Oops.”

The rope slackens off as Jason makes the turn, his hazard lights blink an orange warning which is amplified through the rain-splattered window, although no one is on the road to see them, or likely to be.