I shivered, my shoulders pulling in tight as I stood in the middle of the two-lane highway. My SUV’s headlights blazed from behind me, but in a storm this fierce, the bright beams of light weren’t much help. They reflected off the swirling flakes, blinding me rather than illuminating the vast stretch of dark, empty snow-covered road in front of me.
Old Man Winter could be such a dick. He’d gone and coated the hills in a thick blanket of white on Christmas Eve of all days. It was going to take at least a week of December sunshine to melt this white fluffy crap away. I scowled long and hard, not giving a flying reindeer if my face froze that way either.
The wind raged and howled around me, tearing through my blue wool coat. It stole my breath and gripped my bones with its freezing fingers. I tucked my scarf tighter around me, weighing my options. The blizzard had crowded into the Black Hills so fast, pushing and shoving to make it in time for Christmas.
Trudging ahead through the frozen tundra would be right up there with dodging icebergs in the North Atlantic. Besides, my new purple snow boots were no match for the drifts, many of which were already knee-deep and rising.
“Razzle-frazzit,” I muttered through stiff lips.
Down on the prairie in the warm bosom of my parents’ house, my two kids were waiting for Santa and me to show. Earlier on the phone, I’d reassured them the snowy roads wouldn’t stop me from arriving in time to help them prep for St. Nick. Little had I realized then that Old Man Winter had a plan to knock me on my caboose and then kick me while I was down.
But I wasn’t waving any white flags yet. Nope. I still had plenty of grit in my gizzard. Raising my gloved hands, I aimed both middle fingers at the sky. “Kiss off, icehole!”
A strong gust of wind rammed me from behind, knocking me to my hands and knees in the snow. Cold wetness soaked through my jeans and gloves. Before I could catch my breath, another blast of air hit me, blowing snow into my face.
Son of a sugarplum!
I wiped at my eyes with my coat sleeve. Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the maelstrom whirling overhead. Somehow, I had to make it to my kids through this frozen wasteland.
The only thing left to do at this point was wait for Cooper and his so-called cavalry. Although unless he had a sleigh and eight flying reindeer, I wasn’t sure how he could help me get home for Christmas—chicken or no chicken.
The purr of my Honda’s engine held a steady rhythm under the moaning and whistling wind, reminding me of one of those nature relaxation soundtracks. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help lower my blood pressure.
Poor Addy. This holiday was going to be so hard on her. How was I going to make up for losing Elvis?
A squall of snow swirled over me, dusting me from head to toe. I closed my eyes and mopped my face, the stinging cold no match for the anxiety pinching my chest.
One thing I could try to do to make Christmas better for everyone if we made it to my parents’ place was not fight with Susan. As much as the thought of putting up with my sister’s conniving bullshit made me grind my molars, the next couple of days would be much merrier if I didn’t let her goad me into another bicker-fest.
Although, if that jezebel laid one finger on …
Cluck.
I blinked open my snow-coated lashes. A white chicken head filled my vision, the red comb sprinkled with snowflakes.
Cluck cluck. Elvis flutter-hopped onto my chest. She stared down at me, turning her head in jerky movements one way and then the other. Cluck.
“Elvis! You came back to me.” I hugged her to my chest until she squawked and pecked at my gloved knuckles. “My sweet little good-luck charm.”
“Violet?” Doc kneeled in the snow next to me, the headlights spotlighting his profile. “What are you doing down here?” He plucked a feather from my hat. “Did you slip and fall?”
“I’m just chillin’ with my peep.” I nuzzled Elvis again.
A grin split the half of his face that was visible in the light. He glanced up at Natalie, who’d joined our little reunion. “I think she’s officially starting to unravel.”
She guffawed. “She’s been unraveling since she played hide and seek in the creepy Hessler house last summer. All of that clown shit scrambled her egg.”
Cornelius came up next to Natalie and looked down at me with a perplexed expression. “Did you know that a group of clowns is called a ‘clown alley’?”
I shuddered at the thought of running into even a single clown in an alley. Natalie was right, that night in the Hessler house had cracked my noggin and shaken up my world.
“Hey, when did Sparky lose ‘er vertical hold?” Harvey hollered, leaning into the wind by my knees.
“I once dated a guy who was a rodeo clown,” Natalie told Cornelius. “His stage name was Horn E. Butt.”
I groaned, remembering Horn and his collection of raunchy belt buckles and frequent rude gestures.
“Did he live up to his name?” Harvey asked.
She scowled. “I guess. He was already sleeping with three other women when we started dating. One turned out to be his wife, who claimed eight seconds was about all Horn was good for most nights.”
The rumbling sound underneath the wind deepened, growing louder.
“Do you guys hear that?” I handed Doc the chicken and sat up. “We should put a sweater on that bird before she gets freezer burn.”
“Or a bathing suit.”
I did a double take. “Why a bathing suit?”
“The best way to quickly defrost a frozen chicken is in a cold water bath,” Doc said matter-of-factly.
I grinned. “Funny and sexy. I’m a lucky girl.”
He winked, leaning closer. “Don’t forget ‘good for
