Scrooged by Vi Keeland

Meredith

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled to myself as I opened the front door to my apartment building. “Perfect. Just damn perfect.” The wind howled and blew flakes the size of Frisbees into my face. I pulled up the hood of my coat, tucked a few wayward curls behind my ears, and tugged the strings to tighten it around my face. My eyes and nose were the only things that remained exposed. Squinting, I tried to see through the thick snowfall to look for my ride. A car turned onto my street, and the brake lights illuminated as he slowed and pulled to the curb. At least my Uber arrived quickly. At least I hoped it was my Uber, because I made a run for it without bothering to check the license plate.

My hood was still covering my face when I climbed into the back of the dark car and slammed the car door shut, which was probably why it took a few seconds to register the seat I’d just climbed into wasn’t actually a seat.

“Umm. Excuse me,” a deep voice said. The deep voice of—a man whose lap I’d just climbed onto.

Startled, things turned to shit after that.

I screamed directly into his face. Then proceeded to wind up and smack him straight across it.

“What the fuck?” the man yelled.

Clutching my chest, I felt my heart hammering against my rib cage. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing?”

“You just climbed into my Uber, jumped onto my lap, smacked me in the face, and you want to know who I am? Who the hell are you?”

“I thought it was my Uber.”

The driver I hadn’t even noticed decided to chime in. “This is a shared Uber. It’s both your damn ride.”

“Shared Uber?” Mr. Deep Voice said. “I didn’t order any shared car.”

He may not have, but I definitely had ordered from Uber Pool. It was cheaper, and God knows I needed to save a buck wherever I could. “I ordered a share.”

It was then that I realized I was still sitting on the other passenger’s lap. I lifted up my ass as best I could inside the confines of the back seat. “Umm. Do you think you can slide over so I’m not impregnated if we hit a bump?”

Mr. Deep Voice mumbled something I couldn’t make out while sliding to the other side of the car. He dug his cell phone from his pocket and started to scroll. “I don’t take shared cars. I’m sure this is some sort of mistake.”

The driver huffed. “Well, you do today. Because that’s what you ordered. It’s either that, or you can get out and walk. Not too many other drivers are coming out in this mess today. What’s it gonna be? My wife’s got a ham cooking in the oven, and I got three-year-old twins who expect their gifts to be wrapped when they get up tomorrow morning. You’re my last pick-up of the day.”

Settling into my seat, I untied my hood and finally looked over at my fellow passenger. Figures he had to be gorgeous. With his thick glasses, square jaw, and broad shoulders, he reminded me of Clark Kent. Of course, I couldn’t embarrass myself in front of an ugly guy. God forbid.

“Fine,” the passenger grumbled. “Just go. I can’t be late.”

I leaned forward in my seat as the driver pulled from the curb. “Can you just make sure you drop me off first? I can’t be late, either.”

Clark Kent shook his head. “Sure. Jump on my lap, smack me, then make me late.”

I’d totally forgotten that I’d hit him. “I’m sorry about smacking you. It was an impulsive reaction. But who sits inside a car on the curb side while waiting for another person to get in, anyway?”

“A person who thinks they aren’t taking a shared Uber. I didn’t even see you walking toward the car. It’s a blizzard out there, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Maybe next time you should be more careful when you order your Uber.”

“There won’t be a next time. Trust me.”

“Oh? Did I scar you for life? You know some men might think it’s their lucky day when a woman lands on their lap.”

Clark looked up at me for the first time. His eyes did a quick sweep of my face. “I’m just having a shitty day. Shitty month, for that matter.”

I was pretty sure that whatever shitty luck the gorgeous man next to me had as of late, it didn’t hold a candle to my last few months. So, I decided to share. “Yesterday, I was on a bus that smelled like vomit. A sweet old lady took the seat next to me and proceeded to fall asleep with her head on my shoulder. When I got off the bus, I realized she’d pick pocketed me and stolen my watch. The day before that, a drunk guy in a Santa suit ringing a Salvation Army bell grabbed my ass when I walked by. I clocked him and then gave him a piece of my mind, only to turn around and find a Brownie troop had watched the entire thing—minus him grabbing my ass—and they all started crying. All they saw was that I’d punched Santa. Couple of days before that, I told my neighbor I’d watch her cat while she and her eight-year-old daughter went out of town for the night. I came home from work and the furry thing was laying in my bed, right where I sleep—dead. The little girl cries every time I see her in the hallway now. Pretty sure she thinks I’m a cat strangler. Oh…and let’s not forget that today is Christmas Eve, and instead of heading to Rockefeller Center so that my boyfriend of four years can propose to me under the big tree—something I’d dreamed about since I was a little girl—I’m heading to court to get evicted by my money-hungry asshole of a landlord.” I took a deep breath and let out hot air. “Shouldn’t court be closed on Christmas Eve anyway?”

I’d apparently rendered him speechless with my tirade because he wasn’t saying anything.

Clark Kent stared at me for a while before he finally said, “No, actually, courts never close on Christmas Eve, just Christmas Day. I’ve spent many Christmas Eves in court.”

I arched my brow. “Oh yeah? You a criminal or something? Why is that?”

He cracked a smile. “I’m a trial attorney.”

I squinted my eyes. “Really…”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Actually, no…come to think of it, you look like the stuck-up-suit type.”

“Stuck-up suit?”

“Yeah, you know…pretentious, entitled, argumentative…know-it-all. That was my first impression of you, and the job fits.”

“Know-it-all? Did you just call me smart?” He winked.

God, he’s kind of adorable in an asshole-ish kind of way. Charming, too.

Maybe I should try being a little nicer.