“Hey, girl.” Her usually chipper voice is somber at best. “Are you stuck in Iowa?”
“Without a means of escape. My garage won’t even open,” I whine.
“This is beyond shitty. I really want to see you.”
I appreciate her petulance. A sniffle attacks my nose. “It’s been months. I’m so upset.”
Vannah huffs down the line. “This storm is ridiculous. Why couldn’t it wait until tomorrow, huh? Mother Nature has it out for us, Auds. She’s trying to keep us apart.”
“And doing a damn fine job.”
“At least you’ll be home for Christmas,” she soothes.
“That’s weeks away.” I flop onto the couch with a groan.
“Silver lining?”
“Not so much. Tell me about your plans,” I plead.
Her hesitation is palpable. “Are you sure? Won’t that make you feel worse?”
I snort. “I’m all alone on one of the most family-orientated holidays. I’m pretty sure I’ve already met the quota.”
Vannah hums. “Okay, true story. It’s pretty much the standard affair for your bestie. I’m heading over to my folks’ at three. All the girls are meeting at the Library around nine.”
I slump my shoulders at the reminder. We were supposed to reunite at our old stomping grounds tonight. “You’ll have a blast.”
“Less so without you there.” Her reassurance falls flat.
“I’ll be on a stool in spirit,” I mumble.
“Can we Zoom you in?”
Even though I’m well versed with the video chat service, flying in on a rocket comes to mind. A humorless chuckle rattles out of me. “Yes, please. Getting drunk by myself isn’t appealing.”
Vannah coos, which is comical coming from my least empathic friend. “I hope you have booze in that house.”
“Fully stocked,” I grumble. I made a run to the liquor store yesterday to pick up some festive spirits. The wide selection was meant to be shared with my family in front of our crackling fireplace. It would’ve been my main contribution to the meal. Being the youngest—and still considered irresponsible—has its perks. Not that it’ll do me any good with the lack of company.
“Did your parents call?”
“Yeah, once this disaster took a hazardous turn.” I glance out my window to watch fluffy sheets falling from the sky. “They’re disappointed, of course.”
“I bet. They were probably more excited to see you than I was.”
“Thanks for that,” I jest.
“No problem. Can you Door Dash a turkey dinner?”
The sparkle of hope in her tone makes me grin. “Even if I were willing to risk the driver’s life, which I’m not, no restaurants nearby offer delivery.”
“Oh,” Vannah snarks. “That’s right. How many months are left?”
I stiffen at her question because the number isn’t readily available. Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost track. June fifteenth has been the final destination of this journey since I moved in. Suddenly, I find myself wanting to turn the clock backward, but that’s not possible.
A quick calculation is easy enough. “A little less than seven.”
Her agonized wail is purely for my benefit. “Good Lord, girl. How’re you going to survive?”
“I’ll make do,” I vow.
She whoops with a whistle. “Hell yes, you will. That prime cut of man-meat you’re feasting on certainly helps.”
Her description of Reeve makes me giggle. I’m about to respond when the rumble of an engine catches my attention. I peer behind me to catch a snowmobile swerving into my driveway. With another piercing roar, the sleek frame maneuvers over tall drifts and layers of powder without a struggle. The black paint pops against the pristine sea of white and slides to a stop mere feet from my steps. I practically smash my face to the glass in an attempt to see who’s driving.
Besides the thin dusting of snow, whoever it is has concealed their identity with full-body protective gear. A huge figure dressed for the winter wilderness dismounts with what I assume is the intention of visiting me. An icy trickle slithers through my veins as I continue sitting idly by. The person resembles a yeti or sasquatch or something of similar stature.
I cough to dislodge the wariness clogging my throat. “Van? Let me call you later.”
Rustling precedes her sharp intake of breath. “What’s wrong, Auds?”
“Nothing,” I state calmly. “Someone’s at my house.”
Vannah squawks as more crumpling persists. “Are you calling the cops?”
I laugh. “No, I doubt it’s anyone dangerous. This isn’t cause for concern.”
“You shouldn’t be too trusting,” she warns.
“The city has jaded you.”
“And the country is making you foolish.” She most likely frowns until remembering it will cause wrinkles. “Your front door better be locked.”
It isn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Yes, Mom. I’ll send you a safety text.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
We hang up, and I set my phone on the table with a trembling hand. Expecting it or not, the booming knock just about sends me leaping six feet in the air. My legs threaten to buckle as I slink toward the entryway. With a creak, I slip the door open a crack. Through that sliver of space, I scrutinize the potential intruder, who’s still impossible to pinpoint underneath a wooly facemask and oversized goggles. All that’s visible is a delectable pair of lips, which tip in a very recognizable smirk. I sag against the wall with a whoosh.
Standing on my stoop, wearing this very bulky snowsuit, is Reeve. He waves a gloved mitt at me. “Hey, babe.”
“Hey, yourself.” I make room for him to enter. “This is a surprise.”
“Hopefully a good one.” After stomping off his boots on the rug, he begins disrobing.
Each item peeled off grants me a glimpse of his chiseled physique. An empty clench in my core almost makes me whimper.
Maybe this town does provide delivery.
I swat at the cloud of lust. “That’s quite the getup you’ve got.”
Reeve unzips his thermal pullover. “Gotta stay warm in the elements.”
“Especially in this madness.” I shake off the remaining shock while I’m at it. “How did you drive in these conditions? I can’t even see the road.”
He waves that off. “No one has plans of leaving, so they don’t waste the effort plowing. That’s why other modes of transportation
