'Tis The Season

I glance at the woman watching me with her large, doe-shaped, hazel-colored eyes. “Is that true, miss?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Are you serious?” he hisses, stepping forward.

I hold my hand up, forcing him back.

“I want you to leave. You’ve done enough,” the woman whispers, looking down at the ground.

“This isn’t over.”

“It is tonight,” I say.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store.” A manager appears to the right of the bickering couple.

“Do you know who I am?” Preston asks, standing taller.

“A man harassing a pregnant woman in the middle of the store on Christmas Eve,” the manager says in an unimpressed tone.

The tow-haired man’s face reddens. “Fine.” Stepping back, he spins on his heel and stalks away.

The woman covers her face and exhales. “I am so sorry.”

“You should never apologize for his bad behavior,” I say.

“Are you sure you’re okay, ma’am?” the manager asks, stepping forward.

“Yes.” She places her hand over the small swell of her belly. “I just came here for tape.”

“We can get you that,” the manager assures her.

Smiling, she shakes her head. “Thank you both. His bark is worse than his bite, I swear.”

“Do you need to file a report?” I ask.

“There’s nothing illegal about being an asshole, or I would.” She shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

I hesitate. If I had a woman like this one expecting my child, I wouldn’t dream of treating her that way. She squeezes my arm, and the blood rushes straight down. I swallow and think of the cold waiting for me outside. What kind of pervert gets a hard-on for a pregnant woman he just rescued from an asshole ex? Apparently, me.

“Well, Happy Christmas then.” I nod and push my cart away before I embarrass myself. Maybe I need something more substantial than wine tonight. I whittle down time, placing things I don’t need in my cart until the woman leaves. When her black SUV pulls out of the parking lot, I head to the front, assured the asshole blond wasn’t lurking outside in wait.

“Well, it’s a Christmas Eve to remember, that’s for sure,” the dark-haired cashier says. The white ball on the tip of her Santa hat sways as she shakes her head.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had one like it before.”

“You’re lucky then. The holidays always bring the crazy out in people.” She continues to ring up and bag my items with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “It was nice of you to step in.”

“I was just doing what any decent bloke would do.”

“You’d think that. But I know better. That’ll be $56.78.”

I hand over my credit card and glance at the snow falling faster outside. Gathering my bags, I offer the tired cashier a smile.

“Happy Christmas.”

“Same to you.”

I crank the heat inside of the car, letting it warm up before I pull out of the parking space and ease onto the slick streets. I’m nearly home when a tiny shape darts out into the road.