A Christmas Eve Melody

I could hear the faint sound of a guitar playing as I approached the front door. I hesitated, listening to the music – light and melodic – surrounded by melancholy. Whomever was playing was talented because the notes were crisp and played with confidence. Although I was cold, close to shivering and anxious to warm my limbs – after having walked a mile in a light snow that had progressed to steady, heavy flakes – I hesitated before knocking. I wanted to hear where the musical notes went next. But as quickly as that thought was realized, the music stopped – eclipsing my curiosity. I didn't readily see a doorbell, so I used the brass knocker a couple of times. No answer. I knocked a little harder, making an effort not to bang on the door.

I heard footsteps approach, and swiftly, the door opened. There he stood. I could see he was irritated, with a barely noticeable scowl, his brow furrowed. "It's about time..." he said, followed hastily by a surprised, "Oh, I thought you were..." His voice trailed off as his deliberate gaze took me in.

Unconsciously, I caught my breath and exhaled – the cold winter air leaving a small puff of steam in front of my lips. He was tall, with disheveled brown hair that seemed like it has been run through with fingers rather than a comb. He had a dimple on his left cheek – despite the scowl – and eyes that were a deep, entrancing amber. But what caused me to pause were his lips, manly and full, yet sensuous without effort. He had on a pair of well-worn jeans and red plaid shirt over a white T-shirt, with the sleeves rolled up haphazardly. I could see the hint of a tattoo trailing up his left arm. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen him before.

His amber gaze distracted me. I hurried to collect my thoughts. "Hi. I'm Olivia Bennett. My car stalled out a little ways down the road. Can I use your phone to call a tow service?" This was one of the few times I had forgotten to fully charge my cell phone and on top of that left my phone charger at home. I smiled weakly, hoping that would help. After all, not too many people opened their doors to strangers these days. Even if it was Christmas Eve.

I could see he was sizing me up, weighing my request. He then looked over my head to see if there was anyone with me, and looked at me again.

"It's just me."

He nodded. "OK. Sure, come on in. I'm Mayson," he said as he opened the door wider and stepped to the side to let me in. His smile was crooked and hooked up on the left side, emphasizing that irresistible dimple. Kind of dorky, but cute. He looked safe enough, I thought to myself as I walked in slowly, peering up ahead to get my bearings.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it. I don't know this area and was glad to see your house. It's a bit deserted out here. It was a good little hike up the hill to get here, but I'm grateful." I was on the verge of rambling nervously, so I stopped abruptly – feeling unusually awkward.

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "No problem. Follow me. There's a phone in the great room." Mayson turned and led the way, then looked back at me with a small, reassuring grin that reached his eyes. I noticed his broad shoulders and stride had a subtle hint of swagger, or was it confidence. Either way...the view was... interesting.

The home felt warm and inviting. The modest entry way had a mid-sized table to one side, filled with photos and a vase of fresh day lilies. Although it was around noon, I could still smell the lingering scent of bacon, perhaps from breakfast, which reminded me I had not eaten that day. It had been a busy day. After a quick meeting that morning at the restaurant with my staff to go over the menus and reservations for the next three days, I had rushed home to finish packing in order to get on the road before it got too late.

He showed me to the phone and was polite enough to step away and leave me to make the call in private. "I'm going to make some tea, would you like some, or coffee," he offered from the kitchen just off from the great room.