Fueling Her Fire

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An Excerpt From: FUELING HER FIRE

Copyright © PIPER TRACE, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Kip could fix this. She had money and she was willing to use it to try to salvage her Christmas. She made a six-figure salary—she could afford to pay someone an exorbitant amount to bring firewood up the mountain and stack it on her front porch on Christmas Eve.

Standing up, she brushed the snow off her pants and trudged back into the house, determined to make her plan happen. With a little digging she produced the thin phonebook for Dalton Run. Leafing through to find “firewood” in the yellow pages, she saw there were two listings—Al’s Wood and Dalton Run Reclamation Company. That one didn’t even sound like they sold firewood. She called Al’s.

“Hallo?” a gruff voice answered. Al, she presumed.

“Yes, hello!” her voice was bright, trying to sound so nice that Al wouldn’t think of turning down her request. “I’m in a bit of trouble here. I came to my family’s cabin for Christmas, but I didn’t realize there was no firewood.”

“No firewood? Hope you got a heater, honey! It’s going to be a cold one tonight!” Al answered, seemingly full of Christmas cheer.

“No, see that’s the problem. I need firewood. Tonight.” Al snorted in disbelief and then noises clattered over the line as if he’d dropped the phone. “Um, hello? Al?”

Al’s voice sounded sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I’m not comin’ out tonight, honey. I’m getting ready to sit down to Christmas Eve dinner with my family and then we’re watchin’ Christmas movies and drinking cocoa—same thing we do every year. I’m not missing that. Call the other guy, he might do it. He ain’t married and I don’t think he has family around here.”

Kip smiled. Small towns, everybody knows your business. “You mean Dalton Run Reclamation?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Call him. Otherwise you’re going to need to find somewhere else to stay tonight, I’m afraid.”

Thanking him, she reluctantly hung up the phone. Although she guessed there was some dollar amount that would be enough to drag Al away from his cocoa and Christmas movies, she wasn’t going to try to find out what it was. It sounded like the reclamation guy might be a little more “available” around family holidays. She dialed that number.

“Merry Christmas,” answered a deep, male voice, without much Christmas cheer behind it. Doesn’t anyone answer their business phone like a business around here? She felt like she was calling people’s houses, but then realized she probably was. Firewood sales were most likely a side business for anyone involved.

“Merry Christmas!” she answered, again trying to sound lovely and desperate at the same time. She launched into her story.

“You do realize it’s Christmas Eve, right?”

She closed her eyes, her hopes sinking. “I do.”

“And you know what time it is?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry to ask you, but it really was an oversight on my part and now I’m in a real bind. I’ll pay you whatever ‘holiday rate’ you think is appropriate for your trouble.” She bit her lip and rose up on her tiptoes in anticipation, praying he’d say yes, willing him to.

“It was an oversight on your part? Oh, well in that case…” He laughed warmly and deeply and she couldn’t help but appreciate the manly sound of it. She considered herself a rather independent woman, but there was something about a strong, hard-working man coming to her rescue when she was alone and in need. She couldn’t help it—it made her feel better. She decided she liked the wood guy.

“You must be from out of town,” he said.

“Yes,” she said, thinking it was strange that he could tell. She wondered if it was because she’d forgotten to ensure she had a proper firewood supply during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve, or because she’d used the word “oversight” in a sentence.

But she sensed his good humor meant he was warming up to the idea. She implored further, adding a flirtatious quality to her voice. “So will you come and help me? Please? I’ll make it worth your time!”

He was single, she remembered Al mentioning, and alone—like she was—on Christmas Eve. And she did have a bottle of wine and a warm fire…until she ran out of wood, that is. She found herself growing excited at the prospect of Mr. Dalton Run Reclamation coming to visit her on that snowy night. She lost herself for a moment in a lumberjack fantasy…

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice was hesitant, but Kip sensed an edge of playfulness. She pounced.

“I’ll pay you double the cost of a normal delivery. Think of it as a Christmas bonus!”

He sighed, “Well, I guess I have to—I won’t sleep well tonight knowing you’re out there in the woods by yourself without anything to keep you warm… ” Now she was sure he was flirting with her too. She smiled into the phone, looking down at her socked feet. She wriggled her toes on the kitchen linoleum. Her problem was going to be solved and, as a bonus, maybe the firewood guy would be handsome and lonely.

They agreed on a price and he made a plan. “I was just heading out to some friends’ house for dinner—I’ll have to skip it now. Let me swing by their house and drop off some presents and then I’ll load up the truck and be on my way. If I hurry, I can get the wood stacked with the last bits of light and be in bed before Santa comes.”

Maybe you won’t have to go far…