White Hot Christmas: A Heart of Fame Christmas Story Read Online Free Page A

Lauren again before calling for a mechanic, but once again, it had diverted immediately to her message service.
    What the hell?
    It had taken five knock-backs from various mechanics, five battery-draining phone calls, five time-sucking rejections before he finally landed Mike. By then, his phone had 3% charge.
    “Sure,” Mike had said barely a minute into Nick’s plea for help. “I’ll be there in a tick.”
    Nick had disconnected the call, stared at the 3%, and then ground out a protracted fuck as it changed to 2%.
    It was then his mobile had burst into life, the sound of Blue Swede singing ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ emanating from its tiny speaker as an image of his beautiful, gorgeous wife filled its screen.
    Lauren. Lauren was calling him.
    Nick had swiped his thumb to accept the call. Rammed his phone to his ear.
    “Babe,” he damn near gushed.
    “Nick?” Lauren’s husky, sexy-as-sin voice teased his senses, tickled his ear. His heart slammed into his throat. His groin throbbed. His stomach tightened. “Are you okay? I didn’t realize my phone was on mute and I’ve just noticed all your missed calls. How far away from home are—”
    Silence had cut her off.
    Just like that, his phone’s charge had gone the way of the dodo.
    He’d let out a roar that was far from mature. Had thrown his dead phone as far into the scrub beside the motorway as he could.
    He’d even jumped up and down in a tantrum worthy of a three-year-old beside his dead 4WD.
    And then, feeling petulant and foolish at the same time, he’d gone in search of his phone.
    It had taken longer than he thought it would. Who knew he had such a good throwing arm? Perhaps he should have pursued a career as a javelin thrower instead of rock star. Maybe, just maybe, if he’d been an Olympic javelin thrower, he wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the freaking motorway, hours away from Lauren and home and everything in his life that he craved to see on Christmas freaking Eve?
    He’d sustained more than one scratch to the legs and arms in his search for his phone. Those scratches stung now, intensified by the inferno in the sky that was the summer sun, a mocking reminder of how ridiculous he’d been.
    He let out a ragged sigh. At least he had a hat. That was something. A hat, and a tree behind which he could relieve himself if he needed without being subjected to public scrutiny from those in the cars speeding past him. Yay.
    A horn blared behind him, making him start and yelp.
    Before he finished climbing down from the bulbar, the sound of a heavy door slamming shut filled the hot air.
    “You look flustered, mate,” a man who had to be at least one-hundred and twenty-five years old in the shade laughed, strolling towards him along the side of his Range Rover. On his head, at a rakish angle, was a red Santa hat, complete with a fat, white pom-pom. Behind his 4WD, a tow truck that looked about the same age, sat idling.
    “Mike?” Nick asked. Nick had grown up an Aussie country boy. He recognized the type walking towards him now: a dyed-in-the-wool good bloke more than happy to help, regardless of the situation. It made sense that Mike would have answered his call for help when no other mechanic in Sydney would.
    “Yep.” Mike flashed a smile at him that showed at least one missing tooth. “Want me to take a look at that fancy go-mobile of yours?”
    Nick liked him instantly. “I do.”
    Mike wandered past Nick to the Range Rover’s bonnet. “Pop it for me?”
    Climbing back into the driver’s seat, Nick pulled the lever, releasing the locking mechanism of the bonnet with a solid clunk.
    By the time he climbed back out of the car and walked to where the ancient mechanic stood, the bonnet was up and Mike was studying the sophisticated engine with a bemused smirk.
    Mike whistled. “There’s a thing.”
    Nick’s stomach dropped. Did the old guy even know what he was looking at? The Range Rover Sport SVR wasn’t exactly the kind of car found in