This is just a short story I came up with to get out a little winter frustration. Everyone and anything familiar belongs to Janet. The mistakes are mine.
"I. Hate. Snow," I said out loud to my conspicuously empty parking lot.
And it would be empty, since my neighbors are all retirees and have no place to go first thing in the morning. They're all in their apartments probably still in pajamas, drinking coffee and eating pancakes while they wait for a child or grandchild to come dig their cars out for them. I envied the hell out of them right now. They get to stay inside and watch weather reports about idiots like me who are stupid enough to be out in it.
And sure, I have at least two Merry Men following me when I want to go to Tasty Pastry for a freakin' doughnut, but when Mother Nature takes aim at my POS car, dumping three feet of snow on top of it, there's not a guy within a five-mile radius of me. Figures. Maybe if I call the control room and say that someone is threatening me, they'd haul ass getting here and then I could convince them to put their substantial muscles to good use.
Even as I thought it, I knew I'd never use them like that. For some reason, they seem to enjoy my company and don't want anything bad to happen to me, so scaring them into shoveling would be beyond mean ... and just plain wrong. So I sucked it up and tried to block out the fact that my fingers and toes are nearing frostbite stage, and my nose is threatening to morph into a snot waterfall any minute now.
After what felt like two hours, I finally found my right front tire. "Great," I said to myself. "Just three more tires and a pile of barely held together metal to go, and then I'm outta here."
Then I would have to pray that the friggin' thing starts and gets me all the way to Rangeman. Maybe I should've stuck with just my job at the bonds office. I'm not required to punch a time clock there. But being a Rangeman employee means I don't get to call in frustrated on shitty days like this one. I'm determined to show up like every other Rangeguy, if only to say that I did. I don't want to be accused of getting special treatment because the boss likes the way I look naked.
Okay, that's a good distraction. If I concentrate on naughty Ranger thoughts, maybe this will go faster and be less of a pain in the ass. I found the driver's side door and mistakenly tried to unlock it, which dislodged about a foot of snow that had been on the roof of the car.
"Shit," I said, then started all over to find my tire again.
It's a good thing I don't have Connie's boobs or Lula's behind, or I would've knocked down what I'd just flung onto the already huge snow pile that I had going. I refused to feel even a little bit bad about packing in my neighbor's car. His son will show up with his own son and they'll have the car seeing sunlight in ten minutes. Hmm, I wonder if this is why people are so insistent on having kids. They're thinking ahead to blizzards and debilitating illnesses. Your kids have to shovel your snow after a storm and take you in after a hospital stay. It's required in the Burg.
I put my shovel down and looked at my still three quarters buried CR-V. But my inner ramblings gave me a renewed burst of energy. I may have to shovel ten tons of snow off my car, but then I'd be done. If I had kids, I'd have twenty four hours of work still ahead of me.
Perspective is exactly what I'd needed, and what kept me from giving up and letting the weather win. I made some progress and located the tailpipe that I'll have to clean snow out of so I won't kill myself with carbon monoxide when I eventually start the car. Which probably won't be for another twenty minutes, I thought, still seeing nothing except more fucking snow.
There really isn't a use for this crap, unless I had a margarita glass from Chevy's, some lime juice, and a case of tequila on hand. I sighed ... my breath forming a large white cloud in front of my face when I realized that I wouldn't be finished once I freed my car. I'll still have to stop streetside, and make a car-sized passageway in what the city's plow left at the entrance.
Someone higher up must have decided to stop laughing and take pity on me. I heard the truck before Ranger's extra large, extra powerful F-150 turned into my lot. I swear the snow actually parted for him. And what wasn't smart enough to move, got rolled over under all that horsepower. Despite the frigid air currently blowing in my face, I blushed as I remembered exactly how it felt to be under him, and how powerful he'd been at the time.
He idled behind my snowman car and lowered his window down.
"Need a ride, Babe?"
"To Miami?" I asked hopefully.
I leaned the shovel against my car's back bumper and trudged over to him.
Maybe if I 'accidentally' left my shovel there, it'll get stolen and I'll have an excuse to hibernate until May.
"To Rangeman," he said, "but if you're serious, we can discuss Miami over dinner, since we've got another storm moving in this afternoon. You may have to sleepover."
"Shouldn't I just tell my boss that I'm staying home today and tomorrow ... possibly Wednesday, too?"
He put his window back up and popped the passenger's door open. Guess I was supposed to join him. At least I can stop pretending I'm actually accomplishing something here. I climbed up into his Super Cab and sighed appreciatively as I tugged off my gloves. The temperature had reached toasty in here, and I could detect a hint of Bulgari circulating in the truck air. Already I could feel the snow that had been coating my curls start to melt. I'd left my apartment without a hat and I didn't want to waste time by going back for it.
"No," he told me, answering my hooky question now that we don't have to shout. "Your lips are looking a little blue."
No shit. "They should, since it's two degrees out there with a wind chill in the minuses. I'm surprised they haven't completely fallen off yet."
He closed the inches between us and fitted his warm mouth to my frozen one.
"Your lips didn't fall off, they're right where I left them," he said after kissing me, his breath on them heating me more than the hot air coming out of all the truck's vents.
"Your building has a generator right?" I asked.
"Yes. We're guaranteed electricity, heat, and food, no matter what weather system we get hit with."
My morning has just improved dramatically. "Maybe I should go get Rex," I said. "I wouldn't want him to get lonely ... or turn into a Rexsicle if the power goes out when I'm not here."
Ranger went for a two punch warm up. He jacked up the heat for me, and then kissed me again before putting his hand on the door handle.
"You stay here and defrost and I'll get the rat. You can both stay as long as you want with me," he said, before disappearing into the frozen tundra that's now my parking lot.
I was suddenly tingling everywhere, which could be due to the man who just left, or it was just me thawing out and able to feel my ass again. A few other areas were making themselves known and I knew for sure I had Ranger to thank for those.
He came back with Rex's cage and my overnight bag filled with either my clothes or Rex's supplies. Both of those could be taken as a good sign. If there are no clothes in there, it meant Ranger plans for me to be naked during most of our stay. And if he packed Rex's food and shavings, I could interpret that as he intends for us to stay longer than overnight.
I was now parbaked with the truck's heater on high and it having no problem keeping up with a Jersey winter ... unlike my cars. The icy air filling the truck's cab as Ranger opened the back door to put Rex and my bag in - then himself behind the wheel - actually felt good instead of torturous.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yep. Now I'll only be fifteen minutes late for work instead of an hour."
"You can make up the time or not," he told me, turning the truck around and pulling out of the parking lot. "Your boss is flexible."
I snorted at that load of crap. "Maybe he is in the gym or the bedroom, but he is definitely not flexible when it comes to work or employee hours."
"I'll make an exception this time."
I shrugged. "It's your company."
The somewhat plowed streets were no match for Ranger's souped-up truck, and we made it to the Rangeman building only three minutes later than the usually ten. He got Rex and the bag out of the backseat and followed me to the seventh floor. He put Rex in the kitchen and then took my wet jacket and gloves before I went to look out his bedroom window. The snow that had already fallen and the upcoming storm don't seem as daunting from way up here.
I didn't hear him coming, but I felt the muscled arms circling my body as he braced his palms on the windowsill on either side of me. I was trapped once again, but this time I'm not complaining. Who would ... being sandwiched between the cold glass and a very hot chest?
Not caring at all about my damp hair, his lips moved it aside and quickly found one area of my neck that hadn't been protected from the elements. His tongue traced it not long after. I smiled to myself. Ranger will likely regret sharing his apartment with me, because if I'm being promised uninterrupted heat, food, and one-on-one Ranger-time like this, I may not leave him, his apartment, or his building, until well past Spring.