A Prince for Christmas: A Snowy Hollow Christmas Story by Alexa B. James & Laura C. Stratton

Author:Alexa B. James & Laura C. Stratton [James, Alexa B. & Stratton, Laura C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Speak Now
Published: 2021-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 7

I couldn’t help but laugh at Nick’s dubious expression when he realized I meant to change the tire myself.

“It’s not that big a deal,” I assured him. “Easy peasy. My dad insists I keep a real spare in the car, not one of those little donuts, and he taught me how to do this when I was ten years old. Living on dirt, you gotta know how to change a tire.”

Nick didn’t seem to have any idea about the whole process, so I finished moving the suitcases and uncovered the spare tire. When I started to unscrew the screw that held it in place, he took over with that, so I dug out the jack and assembled it.

“What’s that contraption?” he asked, examining it suspiciously.

“This is the jack,” I said. “It lifts the car so you can get the flat off.” I demonstrated, and he nodded.

“Do you think I could give it a go?” he asked when I crouched to slide the jack under the car. “Might come in handy some day. You never know.”

“Sure,” I said, nodding. “I’ll walk you through it.”

“You’re a gem,” he said, taking over when I moved aside. Although he had clearly never changed a tire, he worked at it valiantly, and I let him follow my instructions, even though I could have done the work far more quickly. I was thankful to keep my fingers warm in my pockets, and he seemed determined to finish the job.

He had a few smudges of tire dirt on his expensive sweater when we finished, but he didn’t seem to notice. He beamed proudly as he stood from the successful operation.

“What do we do with the old tire?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“We toss it in the back and take it with us,” I said, gesturing with my thumb. “Dad will put a plug in the hole, and it’ll be good as new.”

Nick looked startled. I guess he’d never thought of re-using an item after it broke. That was rich folks for you.

Once we were back in the car and on the way, Nick asked, “How much farther to your parents farm?”

“About an hour and a half,” I replied. “There’s a shorter route, but with the stops, this is the best way overall.”

“I don’t mind the drive.” He scooted the seat back to make more room for his long legs and stared out the window. “This is lovely. I can see why you never left Montana.”

I couldn’t help glowing a bit, as if I was responsible for the wild landscape. “Thanks.”

“We don’t have anything like this in England or even on the continent.”

Obviously his family had enough money to travel some. “But England is so green,” I protested. “And there are amazing mountains in Europe—the Alps, the Basque country…”

“Those are indeed beautiful, but for the most part, they’re not that wild. All this open space is…” His voice trailed off. “I really don’t have the words to express it.”

We didn’t talk much until we reached Sheridan, but at some point, Nick’s hand ended up resting comfortably on the back of my neck.

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