Red Hot Christmas (2 page)

“What on earth are you doing? Trying to kill yourself?” she scolded.

He lay there in the middle of Main Street and wondered where she'd been all his life.

A
mber was shocked. Her first thought on seeing the bike and the body was that she'd just killed a teenager. When she'd rushed to the front of her Jeep and looked down, the first thing she was thankful for is that there wasn't any blood. Then she'd seen his smile. His dark hair looked messy and long. He wore jean shorts and a white t-shirt that was now ripped along one side. She saw, with great pleasure, an impressive display of muscles that ran along his entire chest and was now exposed. The arms of his shirt strained over biceps that were very impressive.

His copper eyes laughed up at her, and she couldn't control the attitude that came from her mouth.

“What on earth are you doing? Trying to kill yourself?” She stood there waiting for him to stop smiling at her. She looked up and down the street and could just make out another rider at the very end, turning around. Had they been racing? What were full-grown men doing racing BMX bikes through the main streets of town?

“Really!” She held out her hand for him to take it. “You're alright.” It was more a statement then a question.

He held up his hand and took hers. His hands were warm and she felt a spark travel down his skin and up her arm. He purposely put a little extra weight on her arms as he lifted himself up, and she stumbled and almost fell to the ground herself as she helped him up.

“I would think that a full-grown man would know better than to go jetting down Main Street on a bike that's too small for him.” She walked over and started looking at the mangled bike. To her it looked like a complete loss. The bike had gotten the brunt of the hit. Her Jeep wasn't even scratched.

He chuckled and turned to look at the mess.

“Oh!” She rushed to his side. “You are bleeding!” She pulled his mangled shirt aside and looked at his back. There were small pebbles embedded in his skin along one side. She tried not to gawk at the beautiful display of toned muscles that ran beneath his exposed skin.

He hadn't said anything yet, and she was starting to worry that he'd bumped his head. So far all he'd done was laugh and smile at her. She took his head in her hands and pulled his face towards her. She remembered hearing somewhere that when someone had a concussion their eyes were unfocused. She pulled his face down to hers and looked into his eyes, looking for any sign of disorientation.

She couldn't see any. His eyes were a copper color that she'd never seen before, and she ended up just looking into them, trying to figure out just how he'd gotten such beautiful eyes. She could see specks of green and gold around the rims. His face was covered with a light stubble that she could feel under her hands, making her want to run her fingers over the slight roughness. Since he was a great deal taller than her five-foot-six frame, he'd been squatting down so she could get a good look at him.

The smile had fallen away from his lips when she'd grabbed his face. Now he just stood there, looking at her like he was trying to figure her out.

There was a cough, and she was shocked to realize someone was clearing their throat as they stood a few feet away. She dropped her hands and backed away from him, tucking her hands behind her back.

“
Are you hurt, Luke?” Mrs. O'Neil asked, standing there with three other women. Amber was mortified. They must have run out shortly after he'd done the flip over her car and had witnessed her odd behavior. She could feel her face heating and knew she was red all the way up to the roots of her hair. Taking several deep breaths, she turned away hoping no one would notice.

“Yes, I think I just got cut up a little. I didn't hit my head and don't think I've got a concussion.” He looked at her and winked. She felt her face turning redder and looked down at her feet.

“Well, you were very lucky. The last time you and Iian went hauling through town, you both almost got flattened by Mr. Wilkins. You were just lucky Miss
Kennedy wasn't moving too fast.” The women shook their heads and looked like they all wanted to scold him. “Well, don't just stand there. Go get cleaned up. You're bleeding all over Main Street.”

Another woman walked out with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some bandages, then handed them to Amber.

“You broke him, you fix him.” She smiled and the whole group walked away back into the store, giggling.

Amber turned to him. “What?” She shook her head. “What is wrong with this town?”

He smiled at her. “What do you mean?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Amber closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. Here she was, minutes after almost killing someone in front of her new apartment, and everyone was more worried about his blood getting all over the street.

“I'm okay, really.” He started pulling his bike out from under her Jeep's tire. She looked down at the bottle and bandages in her hands and then looked at his back as blood oozed from the small cuts along his right side. From here she could see tiny pebbles embedded into his skin.

“No, you're not. Listen, why don't you come upstairs so I can clean you up.” She nodded to her stairs. “You've got rocks sticking out of your skin. It'll just take a few minutes. Besides, you aren't going anywhere on that. I'll have to drive you home.”

He had his bike free and was looking at it. “Man!” he shook his head. “This thing has survived almost fifteen years, a million races, two other fender benders, and being ridden off countless docks into the water.” He looked down at the bike with a sad look.

“You seem to be more worried about the bike then the fact that you have rocks sticking out of your back.” She walked over and looked down at the ugly green metal. “It's just a bike.”

“Just a bike?” He looked up at her with shock on his face. “Just a bike!” He picked up the metal and hugged it to his chest. “This is more than just a bike. It's the Green Machine, the fastest bike in town. I won my first race, had my first kiss, and almost made it to second base on this bike.” He set the bike down again and looked up at her. “Lady, this is more than just a bike.”

She sighed. “Listen, if you don't want me to clean up your back,” she said as she tried to hand him the bottle and bandages, “then I will be on my way.”

He looked at her hands then gently leaned the mangled bike against her Jeep, which was still sticking halfway out into the street. “Fine, come on. You can clean me up.” He started walking towards the stairs.

“Wait. Shouldn't I move my car?”

He laughed. “Lady, this is downtown Pride not LA. No one is going to care if you park in the middle of the street.” He was halfway up the stairs when the other man came up the road on a silver bike, laughing. She watched as he stopped by her Jeep and looked down at the mangled metal. Then he looked up and moved his hands. She instantly realized he was using sign language, although she didn't know what he was saying.

She looked over, and the man she'd hit— Mrs. O'Neil had called him Luke—was signing back. The pair of them shook their heads like their puppy had just died, and Luke continued up the stairs to Amber’s new apartment. She turned and watched the other man ride back up the hill away from town.

She stood there a minute and then the realization hit her: that was probably her new boss, Iian. She knew he was deaf, and how many deaf men could live in one town. Rolling her eyes, she prayed she hadn't damaged her reputation before she even started her new job.

She jogged up the stairs, still holding the bottle and bandages. “Was that Iian Jordan?”

He turned and watched her. “Do you know Iian?”

She stopped two steps below the landing and looked up at him. “No. Well, I've never seen him before. I had a conference call, well, a text relay call. You know, when someone relays for him over the phone. He interviewed me, then we exchanged emails and text messages when he hired me.”

“
You're working at the Golden Oar?”

She walked by him and used her new key to open the door. “I will be starting Monday. I'm the new manager there.”

His eyebrows shot up, and she noticed his eyes scanning her again. Then he walked into her place and stopped. “There's nothing here.”

She walked in behind him. “Not yet. I've just arrived. Everything will be here in a truck tomorrow.”

She walked into the kitchen and set the bottle down on the counter top. Then she dug in her purse for her manicure set. She had a pair of tweezers and nail clippers that might help pull the pebbles from his skin.

Walking over to the sink, she splashed some peroxide on them to clean them and turned back around. “Well?”

“Well?” He stood there looking at the empty space.

“You'll have to remove your shirt and come over here into the light.”

He smiled and slowly pulled his shirt over his head. She held her breath and hoped he didn't hear her heart skip a beat. He was beautiful. She'd never seen someone like him before. He must work out every muscle in his upper body. His shoulders were wide, and she could make out his lat muscles as they narrowed down to his waist. When he walked towards her, he did it slowly, and she couldn't help herself from licking her lips, wanting.

He smiled and stopped in front of her. Then he slowly turned around, and she enjoyed seeing that his lats were well toned. Then she noticed the blood and the pebbles sticking out from his right side. The skin over his lat muscle and hip was red and jagged with pebbles.

She bent down and got to work pulling the pebbles from his skin. “I'm Amber Kennedy, by the way.”

“Luke Crawford.”

“Nice to meet you.” It took almost fifteen minutes for her to clear his skin of the small pebbles. “I'm sorry about your bike.”

“I can fix it.”

“That? You can fix that? It's a mess. Why not just buy a new one?”

“I'd never hurt the Green Machine’s feelings like that. He's given me plenty of good years. Besides, it's worth a little hard work to make him shine like new again.”

“Aren't you and Iian Jordan too big to be riding kid bikes through town?” she asked after pulling the final pebble from his skin.

He chuckled as he tried to put on his tattered shirt. Then he gave up and bunched it up in his hands and walked to the large windows that overlooked the town. “We normally don't race through the streets anymore, but he double-dog dared me.” He turned to her and smiled. “You can't just ignore a double-dog dare.”

“How old did you say you were?” She smiled back at him and crossed her arms.