But the hill that he hadn’t needed warning about lay ahead and Phin uttered a silent plea not to meet another vehicle coming up or come across one that was stuck part way down. His heart beat a little faster as he began the descent. No matter how good this old Land Rover was in snow, a slope of this gradient was dangerous. He wished he was going more slowly, but he was in the lowest gear and reluctant to brake in case he lost traction. Halfway down, he carefully eased around the tight hairpin bend by moving onto the wrong side of the road, only to see a figure right in front of him.
“What the hell?” Phin braked hard and wrenched at the steering wheel, his heart jumping into his throat.
The Land Rover’s wheels locked, the vehicle skidded and to his horror, he felt a thump as he made contact. Fucking shit! Phin pulled on the brake, and once he was sure the vehicle wasn’t going to move, he leapt out, slipping in the snow as he scrambled around the front, only to gape in shock when he saw who he’d struck.
Father Christmas.
Well, obviously it wasn’t, but a guy dressed like him, red jacket trimmed with white, a matching hat on his head, a thick black belt around his ample waist and red trousers tucked into black boots. He lay sprawled on his back and he wasn’t moving. Phin stumbled towards him. Please don’t let me have killed him. He dropped down on his knees at the guy’s side and when eyes fluttered open to look up at him, Phin sucked in a breath. Thank God. Oh fuck, thank fucking God. He winced at the profanity. At least he’d not said it out loud.
“You hit me.” The muffled but indignant voice came through a curly white beard that had been pulled askew on the guy’s face.
“You were walking in the middle of the road.”
“You were on the wrong side of the road.”
Oh shit, I was. “But you should have been walking at the edge.”
“So it’s my fault? Don’t drivers have a duty of care to look out for pedestrians? Were you driving with due care and attention? I don’t think so.”
Phin gaped at him. That sounded a bit like something a policeman would say. “I didn’t expect to come across someone walking down the road, in the middle of nowhere, in a snowstorm.” He almost added dressed as Santa, but that wasn’t really relevant. Just weird.
Father Christmas sat up and groaned. “Anyway, it’s not snowing now.”
“You shouldn’t move.”
“What? You want me to lie here so someone else can run over me? Where’s my sack?”
Phin looked around and saw a bulging red sack a few yards away. Bit late to be delivering presents, so had he been nicking them? He walked over to get it and when he turned, the guy was on his feet. At least no bones were broken. He was a couple of inches shorter than Phin, with a huge belly rolling over his belt. Phin handed him the sack.
“You shouldn’t brake hard and wrench at the steering wheel in snow like this. That’s why you skidded.”
Phin bristled. “Thank you for the driving lesson. I’m perfectly aware of how to drive in snow, but if I’d done nothing, I’d have ploughed straight into you.”
The guy raised his eyebrows. “Oh my goodness. So being hit by your car isn’t the reason I ended up on my arse?”
Phin wished he could accuse him of slipping before he’d reached him, but he’d felt the bump. This was his fault and he had no right to be so argumentative. Being tired and desperate to get home were not acceptable excuses. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he muttered.
“Because it would have caused you a big problem if I wasn’t?”
Yes, but… “No.”
“Uh huh.”
To his astonishment, the guy slung the sack over his shoulder, turned and carried on walking down the road.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Phin called.
“This way.”
Is he drunk? He wasn’t walking in a straight line. Limping. Oh shit. Drunk, injured or concussed? All three? And don’t forget insane.
“Hey, Santa,” Phin called. “Lost your sleigh? Need a lift?”
There was no answer.
“Let me help you.”
Santa held up his middle finger and carried on walking. Bloody hell. No gloves? Phin groaned.
“I can’t leave you out here. I’ll give you a lift.”
“I’m fine. Just try not to hit me again when you drive past.”
“Get in the damn vehicle.” Shit. He’d growled that.
The figure stopped, then turned, but didn’t move.
“Please,” Phin added.
“Okay. Thanks.”
Phin climbed back into his Land Rover, flung stuff from the front seat into the back, and reached over to open the passenger door.
When the guy climbed inside, Phin saw blood on his beard and swallowed hard. “You’re hurt.”
“No shit, Sherlock. You ran me over.” He closed the door and pushed the sack into the footwell.
“Technically, I didn’t. It was just a glancing blow.”
“Oooh. Did you hear that, hip-that-might-be-broken? A glancing blow. It just feels like you ran over me.”
“You wouldn’t be walking if your hip was broken. But your face is bleeding.”
“Blood?” He shuddered. “Oh, I’m not good with b-blood.”
“Will you let me have a look?”
Phin turned on the interior light. The guy pulled off his Santa hat to reveal sun-streaked blond hair and bright blue eyes, and Phin widened his own eyes. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected the guy to be old, but now the beard was off, he saw just how young he was. Mid-twenties maybe. And cute. Damn it.
“Your cheekbone’s cut, but it’s not too bad. Let me get something.” He knelt up on his seat, reached into the back and pulled a pack of wipes and Steri-Strips from his bag.
When the guy saw what he was holding, he gave a heavy sigh. “I was hoping for alcohol.”
“I think you’ve drunk enough.”
“I’m not drunk. I’d just like a drink. Getting run over was traumatising.”
Phin wiped the cut.
“Ouch. Fuck. That hurts. Do you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m a vet.”
“Ah, so that’s why you have no bedside manner. You spend all your time cutting off balls or sticking your arm up animals’ backsides without so much as a by- your-leave. How much experience do you have in making sure I’m not scarred for life?”
“You’re not going to scar.”
Phin dried the wound, which was no longer bleeding, and put a small Steri-Strip in place. It probably didn’t need more than one, but he added another just in case.
“Are you thinking of sticking one over my mouth?”
“Not until you’d mentioned it. What’s your name?”
“Maric.”
“I’m Phin.”
“As in—”
“No, not as in shark.”
Maric frowned. “I was going to say as in Phineas, Finley, Finbar, Finton, Finocchio—”
“You were right first time. Phineas. Where did Finocchio come from?”
“It’s a variant of the fennel plant.”
Phin frowned. “Why would I be called after a vegetable?”