Unwrapping His Package on Christmas Eve

There stood possibly the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on. He was over six feet tall, thick black curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. Silver strands glinted in the light. His muscular frame was wrapped in a leather jacket, accentuating his rugged appeal. And I'd have put money on those muscles that weren't from a gym. Best of all, he was around my age.

Steve gave me an indulgent smile as I rolled down the window. I felt my face flush red-hot with embarrassment. Here I was, a fifty-four-year-old woman acting like a teenager. Although that would be what I often do, the truth be known.

I never had children and enjoyed being only responsible for myself. Besides, my friends look much older from worries about their children, even though their children are adults now. It never stops for most parents. Some made their kids stand on their own two feet to be responsible adults, which was admirable. Today, raising kids who are entitled seems to be the norm.

I started to talk, but he gestured that he couldn't hear, and I fumbled to turn off the radio, my heart pounding in my ears. "Sorry about that," I stammered, smoothing my hair. I was sure Steve thought I was ridiculous. But to my relief, he just chuckled good-naturedly.

I shook his hand, noticing they were covered in scars, and wondered what kind of work he did. He was likely too young to be retired. Dark blue eyes sparkled under bushy black eyebrows. The bloodhound at his feet made him look like a real adventurer.

.

.

After we left Columbus, the skies turned darker with snow clouds. I can't say I wasn't a little worried about getting Snickerdoodle Christmas gift to his new people before the snow came.

"That sky..." I said a few hours later.

"I know... At least we're not seeing snow yet." He glanced over at me. "Don't worry, this truck is four-wheel drive and handles great in the snow."

I looked at my watch. "Another two hours or so?"

"That's about right. Let me know if you need to stop." Right at that moment, the dog let out a loud snore. "I think our rider is settled in for a while." We both laughed.

"I'm good for now, thanks."

Within my seatbelt, I turned to face him and drew my knees up. Probably not the safest, but my butt was numb.

"Let's play a game," I said brightly. "Two lies and the truth."

"Yeah, I know that one. You start!"

"Okay. One is my cat's name is Gato." He laughed, and I grinned. "Two is I've never been out of the country. And three is, I drive a Corvette. Okay, now, which is the truth."

He thought for a moment. "I don't know you well, of course, but this one is pretty easy, I think. Your cat's name is Gato. Is truth?"

I laughed. "No." He looked at me incredulously, thinking he'd aced it. "Want another chance?"

"Yes." He thought for a moment. "You've never been out of the country?"

"Wrong!!" I laughed.

"Whaaaaat?"

"I drive a Corvette. An older one. Don't like the new ones," I wrinkled my nose.

"Yeah, I don't care for the body styling. The power is great, but the aesthetics won't make them appealing years from now." I nodded. "Not like opening the barn door and finding a dusty split window."

"Exactly!" I took a swig from my bottle of water. "Your turn!"

"Oh boy. Okay. Hmmm. I am a gourmet home chef. I am an award-winning ice skater. I plant a vegetable garden every year."

I giggled at the smirk on his face, thinking he had me, which he might have. I considered each one.

"I hope it's that you're a gourmet chef!" As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. It seemed pushy, like we'd see each other beyond this transport. I hoped we would. I wanted to get to know Steve much, much better.

I couldn't tell if he picked up on it when he said, "Seriously?! What don't I look like an ice skater?" He looked at me, grinning. "Or a farmer?"

"I'm right?!" I hollered, laughing, and he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh my gosh. That was pure luck. But now you have to tell me about this."

He shrugged. I always liked to cook. It wasn't much fun doing it for myself, so I'd have friends over occasionally to hone my skills, as it were. It turned into a monthly thing. Now they bring the ingredients and challenge me to cook something up with what they got."

"That is pretty damn cool! That would be a challenge... I don't think I could do it on short notice. I'd have to look through recipes online. Go to my NYT recipe box and see if I saved anything for those ingredients, then peruse the list for a day, then take another day to decide after I gathered all the information," he started laughing as I talked. "You've totally impressed me."

"I just like to create with food. Sorta like you create with fiber."

I leaned back in my seat, studying Steve's profile as he focused on driving. There was an undeniable attraction between us that kept growing—more than just physical - a real mental connection.

In my younger years, dating felt like a tiring game of pretense. But time and experience gave me the confidence to be open about my feelings. While that honesty never led to lasting love, it did help me cherish my true self.

Now, in my fifties, I know what I want in a relationship. Like a perfectly worn armchair - not flashy, but molded just right. Someone who makes me feel comfortable known. Who I can be wholly myself with. Someone comfortable enough to be the same with me.

Steve reached for my hand to reassure me as the first snowflakes drifted down. His warm palm sent a thrill through me. We drove on in cozy silence, fingers interlaced.

The mood in the truck shifted, both of us sensing this spark. It felt less like an obligatory road trip and more like an eager first date.

I found myself imagining quiet nights by the fire with Steve, sipping wine and sharing stories. Waking up next to him, wrapped in soft flannel sheets. The kind of effortless domestic bliss I had nearly given up on finding.

Maybe this blizzard was fate bringing us together. A chance to take it slow and see where this unexpected connection led. A new chapter filled with possibilities.

Steve squeezed my hand once more before returning it to the wheel. I savored the tingle left on my skin.

I could think of nothing more I wanted than to have him deep inside me. The ultimate joining. I wanted to see his face when he had an orgasm and how he sounded. Was he loud? I wondered if he liked dirty talk. Did he like blow jobs? I have an appreciation for bringing a man to his knees with my talents. In other words, I loved sucking cock.

"Seems to have quit snowing," he said, interrupting my warm fuzzy feel-good panty-wetting fantasies.

"Good!" Not wanting to sound like a complainer, I added, "I mean, I know it's Ohio, winter, Christmas Eve, so snow is likely on the agenda."

"Yeah, I'm with you. I'd rather have a fire, wine, and good company on a snowy winter day."

Was he tuning into my fantasies?

"Do you have a fireplace?"

"I do. Do you?"

"Yes, I do!" I hesitated but said, "You know I'm a little quirky. Some say I don't act my age."

"How do you know how to act? You've never been this age before," he grinned.

"Right?! And having no children, I never had to grow up."

"I totally get that. Same here. Being child-free was for me." He hesitated. He knew there was a big difference between being childfree and. "Did you want children?"

"Not really. Never had a desire. You? Or maybe you have children?" I asked.

"Nope. My ex wouldn't have made a good mother, and honestly, I didn't care if I had kids. Not a burning desire. But to be even more honest, I'm really glad I didn't. I've been able to live my own life and not have it ruled by one thing after another with kids."

"Exactly!" Another notch into the what we have in common factor.

"We're close to Lake Erie now, right?" I asked, glancing out at the snow swirling thicker by the minute.

"Yeah, we just passed a sign for Conneaut," Steve replied, squinting at the road ahead. "We're on Interstate ninety running along the lake. Probably about an hour to go."

He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Would've made better time if not for that traffic jam earlier."

A shiver ran through me as I eyed those big, dark clouds, all purplish-gray, looming heavily above the lake. They carried that eerie promise of an upcoming blizzard. The wind got fierce, whipping up angry waves on the water that looked like ​cold, hard steel.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling a chill down to my bones that had nothing to do with the temperature.​

"This is considered part of the snow belt?" I already knew the answer but was fishing for reassurance.

"Yeah, lake effect snow comes off Erie and can really pile up," Steve affirmed. He gave me a sideways smile. "But we'll get there and head back before it gets too gnarly. Don't worry, Leo."

I nodded, trying to ease my nerves. But I had a pit in my stomach that this storm would be worse than anticipated. I snuck another glance at the turbulent water and the threatening sky. The weather seemed to mirror the swirl of emotions I felt about the man beside me.

"Here's our exit," I said excitedly. I had Waze up to ensure we got there and back on the highway as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, they weren't far off the Interstate exit. Snickerdoodle found a place in their front yard to do her business, her red coat quickly covering white with snowflakes. The family ran out to get their new family member.

"Merry Christmas!" I said, getting a thankful hug from each family member. I hid a chuckle as Steve was treated to the same gratitude. "I don't want to be rude, but we need to get back on the highway. Hopefully, beat the blizzard."

One of the kids ran in and brought out a big tin with a jolly Santa on the lid—cookies for our trip back. I was a little teary at their thoughtfulness as I climbed back into the truck.

We got out and back onto Interstate ninety again, and I felt a little relief when I saw the roads had been salted and trucks were ready with plows. However, I hoped not to see them in action.

"That was a nice thing, huh," Steve said about the cookies. I knew he was trying to distract me from worrying.

"It was. I was surprised. Were you? I think they'll make a wonderful family for her. You know, maybe they will keep the name Snickerdoodle. I mean the cookies and all." I trailed off when I saw him smiling, realizing I was nervously blurting. "Sorry."

He reached for my hand again and squeezed it. "No need to apologize. I get that you're worried. I don't see any issues for now. The highway trucks are out doing what they're supposed to do. Pennsylvania highway guys know this road and are very familiar with their weather. This truck is rock solid on the road. The weight of those cookies is helping that, I'm sure," he said, and we laughed.

I was utterly confident in Steve and his driving and felt better because he trusted his vehicle. There was nothing we could do about it. Just hope to get across Interstate ninety and out of the snow belt. The snow was coming down harder but not near blizzard proportions, I noted in my mind. We're good.

I picked up my knitting and began working on my project.

"So, tell me about what you do. I know you're knitting, but that's about the extent of my fiber knowledge," he laughed.

"Well, I start by spinning the wool—"

"Wait. Do you have a spinning wheel? Like you see in museums?"

I laughed. "Yes, but no. Like what you see in museums but much more modern." He nodded. "Sometimes I'll dye the wool, depending on the project. I also weave so that I could use it for that."

"Whoa, you have some equipment then huh?"

A couple of looms and a couple of wheels," I grinned. "But nothing like a big truck."

He belly laughed. "You got me!"

I shrugged. "We all have our fun. Just in different ways."

I noticed he was more fixed on the road ahead and that the snow was coming faster, spinning into the windshield. It was dark from the snow and clouds, and I shivered again.

By the time we hit the Ohio, Pennsylvania border, the snow was coming harder, and Steve had slowed down because visibility was dwindling. We pulled into a rest area, and Steve ran in.

He was covered in snow when he got back into the truck.

"Just saw an Ohio State patrolman who suggested we find a place to hunker down for the night." He looked out the windshield where the snow had already piled up. "He said there wasn't much around here, but if we got off at five thirty-four, we could get to Geneva-on-the-Lake and likely find something."

I felt a stress headache coming on but said, "We'll do what we have to do, Steve. We need to stay safe."

He nodded, started the truck, and watched the wiper shove the snow away. I looked on the phone, found some nearby hotels in Geneva, and began to call. They were all full already.

"We'll have to go on up to Geneva-on-the-Lake, I'm afraid. They're all booked in Geneva. We can't afford to push on and get stuck on the Interstate."

"You're right. Let's get off and head straight there."

The enormous tires rumbled and crunched, breaking through the snow as we maneuvered along the road that snaked through the quaint town.

As we drove into town, memories of childhood trips with my parents came flooding back. Even through the thick blanket of snow, I could practically hear the cheerful jingle of arcade games and the crash of bowling pins. See the bright neon lights flashing above ice cream parlors and fudge shops, beckoning me inside.

I'd press my nose to the windows, inhaling the rich chocolatey aroma as men in crisp white aprons whipped up fudge in shiny copper pots. Dad would hoist me onto his shoulders so I could watch them pour it onto the chilled marble slab, always letting me pick the flavor. We'd wait in hungry lines that stretched out the door at the famous hot dog place, watching them pile the buns impossibly high with plump dogs buried under drizzles of mustard and rivers of tangy coney sauce.

In the evenings, strolling down the boardwalk Hand-in-hand with Mom and Dad, cotton candy melting on my fingers. Lake Erie lapped gently against the rocky shore, the sun glinting off its surface. After tiring myself out playing Skee-Ball and Whack-A-Mole all day, I'd fall asleep in the backseat on the drive home, dreaming of our next visit. This quaint little town held so many precious memories with my family.

"I don't know, Steve. It all looks closed," I said, worried.

"The patrolman said to ask at one of the resorts. They may open a cottage for us." We slowly drove on and saw a cluster of small cottages that had not changed since my childhood visit. "I'll try here. There are lights in the main house."

He quickly disappeared in the heavy snow as he walked to the house.

The rooflines of the homes, lined with bright Christmas lights, stood as delicate silhouettes against the backdrop of the blizzard. The relentless snowfall subdued the usual vibrant glow, casting a hush over the town. The lights on the bushes were covered by a blanket of snow that muted their brightness.

Through the open windows, softened by the snowy veil, glimpses of Christmas trees with their twinkling lights and shiny ornaments.

Many homes, their driveways framed by the pristine snow, welcomed the warmth of Christmas Eve celebrations. Cars, dusted with a frosting of snow, hinted at gatherings inside, where families and friends celebrated.

As the snowflakes continued, I couldn't help but feel a mistiness in my eyes. I looked at the presents I had brought, wrapped with care. My duffel, filled with everything I'd need for our usual Christmas Eve sleepover, became a bittersweet reminder that I wouldn't be there.

The door opened, and a snow-covered Steve shook off and jumped into the truck. "We got one! We'll just hunker down here until this goes over. He said he'll plow us out in the morning because the sidewalk to the cottage will likely be deep."

He parked as close as he could to the tiny cottage. I wrapped myself in my scarf, buttoned my coat, and hopped out of the truck. The snow was already mid-calf and showing no signs of slowing down. We gathered my bags and trudged through the snow to the door.

The cottage was small and only had one double bed. Steve winced and said, "I didn't think to ask him for one with two beds. Let me go back and see if he can give us another one."

"Ugh, don't go back out in that again. We're adults. We can make do." I dropped my duffel on the floor, relieved we were off the treacherous road. "Besides, I don't want to schlep all this stuff through knee-deep snow to another cottage," I laughed.

"He said he gave us one of the cottages with a fireplace and an AC heat unit. Which in my experience doesn't usually work well, but I'll get it going, then get some wood inside."

It wasn't long until he had the fire crackling in the little fireplace. I was finally comfortable enough to take my coat off between the fire and the wall unit. I hung both our snow-wet coats to dry.

"Damn, I almost forgot." Steve jumped up and ran out the door.

"I can't believe you went out there without your coat!" I scolded when he was back, just moments later. "Sorry, I was—"

"Concerned. I get that, and that's okay, Leo." He held up a bulging grocery sack. "They had Christmas Eve leftovers, he said," laughing.

"Food?!"

I'd found many extra pillows in the cupboard, spread a blanket, and then arranged the pillows around the fireplace. Steve began to set everything on the floor in front of us.

"Wow, ham, green beans, sweet potatoes," he said, pulling each plastic container out.

"And cookies!" I said, holding up the tray and laughing.

"Damn, I'm going to put twenty pounds on this trip," he said.

"Yeah, those cookies are all yours. I can't stand another twenty pounds."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me.

"Leo, you are perfect. You may not think so, but I do. And I'm the one that looks at you. And I like what I see just the way you are."

I felt the hot flush across my face. "Thank you."

We hadn't eaten since lunch and pretty much polished everything off.

"I think I'll shower, although that deep clawfoot tub looks good for a bubble soak," she laughed. "Since I planned on doing an overnighter, I have everything in my bag. Feel free to use body wash, shampoo, whatever... Although you'll smell girly and not like a big bad pickup truck driver," she smirked.

"I'll risk my masculinity. But only with you."

I nearly swooned when he came out of the bathroom, his hair a mass of sexy waves. The fur on his bare chest was freshly fluffed, and his jeans slung low on his hips.

"Hello Kitty?" he laughed loudly, looking at my pink pajamas.

"Don't judge! This was supposed to be a sleepover with the girls, don't forget."

I knew I wouldn't forget anything about this trip. Ever. I just hoped they would be reminders of our beginning and not memories of the past.

"Oh!" He reached back into the bag and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Almost forgot!"

"He thought of everything!" He pulled the plastic off the neck. "Screw caps are the best," he laughed. "Guess I should have put this outside to cool."

I remembered seeing plastic cups in the bathroom and brought them back. "It's fine. I don't need cold wine. But then again, I'm not a connoisseur of the vino. I just drink it."

Steve put the containers in the bag, and we leaned back on the pillows to enjoy the fire. It was warm, and we were safe, and I could put that stress behind me.

We clinked our plastic cups and laughed every time he'd pour more. I noticed his beard was well past a five o'clock shadow, and I had to stop myself from running my fingers on his cheek. He caught me looking and smiled. The wine had taken effect and lowered my inhibitions.

"Your beard," I murmured. Fixated on it.