Chapter 3
Three
“We can’t stay here,” Shelly insisted, looking at their precarious position beside the road. Snow was whirling in every direction. The ferocity
of the storm shocked her as it whipped and howled around them. While she’d slept, the storm had worsened drastically. She
found it little short of amazing that Slade had been able to steer the car at all.
“Do you have any other suggestions?” he asked, and breathed out sharply.
He was angry, but his irritation wasn’t directed at her. Wearily she lifted the hair from her neck. “No, I guess I don’t.”
Silence seeped around them as Slade turned off the engine. Gone was the soothing sound of Christmas music, the hum of the
engine and the rhythmic swish of the wipers. Together they sat waiting for nature’s fury to lessen so they could get going
again. Staring out at the surrounding area between bursts of wind and snow, she guessed that they weren’t far from Castle
Rock and Mount St. Helens.
After ten minutes of uneasiness, she decided to be the first to break the gloom. “Are you hungry?” She stared at the passive, unyielding face beside her as she spoke.
“No.”
“I am.”
“Have some of that bread.” He cocked his head toward the back seat, where she’d stuck the huge loaves of sourdough.
“I couldn’t eat Dad’s bread. He’d never forgive me.”
“He’d never forgive you if you starved to death, either.”
Glancing down at her pudgy thighs, Shelly sadly shook her head. “There’s no chance of that.”
“What makes you say that? You’re not fat. In fact, I’d say you were just about perfect.”
“Me? Perfect?” A burst of embarrassed laughter slid from her throat. Reaching for her purse, she removed her wallet.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pay you for saying that.”
Slade chuckled. “What makes you think you’re overweight?”
“You mean aside from the fat all over my body?”
“I’m serious.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel chubby. Since leaving home, I don’t get enough exercise. I couldn’t very well bring
Sampson with me when I moved to San Francisco.”
“Sampson?”
“My horse. I used to ride him every day.”
“If you’ve gained any weight, it’s in all the right places.”
His gaze fell to her lips, and her senses churned in quivering awareness.
He stared into her dark eyes and blinked, as if not believing what he saw.
For her part, she studied him with open curiosity.
His eyes were smoky dark, his face blunt and sensual.
His brow was creased, as though he was giving the moment grave consideration.
Thick eyebrows arched heavily over his eyes.
Abruptly he pulled his gaze away and leaned forward to start the engine. The accumulated snow on the windshield was brushed
aside with a flip of the wiper switch. “Isn’t that a McDonald’s up ahead?”
Shelly squinted to catch a glimpse of the world-famous golden arches through a momentary break in the storm. “Hey, I think
it is.”
“The exit can’t be far, then.”
“Do you think we can make it?”
“I think we’d better,” he mumbled.
She understood. The car had become their private cocoon, unexpectedly intimate and far too tempting. Under normal circumstances
they wouldn’t have given each other more than a passing glance. What was happening now was magical, and far more exhilarating
than the real life that seemed very far away right now.
With the wipers beating furiously against the window, Slade inched the car toward the exit, which proved to be less than a
half mile away.
Slowly they crawled down the side road that paralleled the freeway. With some difficulty he was able to find a place to park
in the restaurant lot. Shelly sighed with relief. This was the worst storm she could remember. Wrapping her coat securely
around her, she reached for her purse.
“You ready?” she blurted out, opening her door.
“Anytime.”
Hurriedly he joined her, tightly grasping her elbow as they stepped together toward the entrance. Pausing just inside the door to stamp the snow from their shoes, they glanced up to note that several other travelers were stranded there, as well.
They ordered hamburgers and coffee, and sat down by the window.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. She needed reassurance more than anything.
This Christmas holiday hadn’t started out on the right foot. But of one thing she was confident: their plane hadn’t left Portland
yet.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I’ll say two hours, then,” she murmured, taking a bite of her burger.
“Why two hours?”
“I don’t know. It sounds reasonable. If I thought it would be longer than that I might start to panic. But, if worse comes
to worst, I can think of less desirable places to spend Christmas. At least we won’t starve.”
He muttered something unintelligible under his breath and continued eating. When he finished, he excused himself and returned
to the car for his briefcase.
She bought two more cups of coffee and propped her feet on the seat opposite her. Taking the latest issue of Mad from her purse, she was absorbed in the magazine by the time he returned. Her gaze dared him to comment on her reading material.
Her love of Mad was a long-standing joke between her and her father. He even read each issue himself so he could tease her about the contents.
Since moving, she’d fallen behind by several issues and wanted to be prepared when she saw her dad again. She didn’t expect
Slade to understand her tastes.
He gave her little more than a glance before reclaiming his seat and briskly opening the Wall Street Journal.
Their reading choices said a lot about them, she realized. Rarely had two people been less alike. A lump grew in her throat. She liked Slade. He was the type of man she would willingly give up Mad for.
An hour later she contentedly set the magazine aside and reached in her purse for the romance novel she kept tucked away.
It wasn’t often that she was so at ease with a man. She didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to keep a conversation going or
fill the silence with chatter. They were comfortable together.
Without a word she went to the counter and bought a large order of fries and placed it in the middle of the table. Now and
then, her eyes never leaving the printed page, she blindly reached for a fry. Once her groping hand bumped another, and her
startled gaze collided with Slade’s.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t be. They’re for us both.”
“They get to be addictive, don’t they?”
“Sort of like reading the Wall Street Journal?”
“I wondered if you’d comment on that.”
She laughed. “I was expecting you to mention my choice.”
“Mad is exactly what I’d expect from you.” He said it in such a way that she couldn’t possibly be offended.
“At least we agree on one thing.”
He raised his thick brows in question.
“The fries.”
“Right.” Lifting one, he held it out for her.
She leaned toward him and captured the fry in her mouth.
The gesture was oddly intimate, and her smile faded as her gaze met his.
It was happening again. That heart-pounding, room-fading-away, shallow-breathing syndrome.
Obviously this . . . feeling . . . had something to do with the weather.
Maybe she could blame it on the season of love and goodwill toward all mankind.
Apparently she was overly endowed with benevolence this Christmas.
Given the sensations she was already experiencing, heaven only knew what would happen if she spied some mistletoe.
Slade raked his hand through his well-groomed hair, mussing it. Quickly he diverted his gaze out the window. “It looks like
it might be letting up a little.”
“Yes, it does,” she agreed without so much as checking the weather. The French fries seemed to demand her full attention.
“I suppose we should think about heading out.”
“I suppose.” A glance at her watch confirmed that it was well into the afternoon. “I’m sorry about your appointment.”
He looked at her blankly for a moment. “Oh, that. I knew when we left that there was little likelihood I’d be able to make
it in time today. Luckily I’ve already made arrangements to meet tomorrow morning.”
“It’s been an enjoyable break.”
“Very,” he agreed.
“Do you think we’ll have any more problems?”
“We could, but there are enough businesses along the way that we don’t need to worry about getting stranded.”
“In other words, we could hit every fast-food spot between here and Seattle.”
He responded with a soft chuckle. “Right.”
“Well, in that case, bring on the French fries.”
By the time they were back on the freeway, Shelly saw that the storm had indeed lessened, though it was far from over. And
when the radio issued a weather update that called for more snow, Slade groaned.
“You could always spend Christmas with me and Dad,” she offered, broaching the subject carefully. “We’d like to have you.
Honest.”
He tossed her a disbelieving glare. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
“But I’m a stranger.”
“I’ve shared French fries with you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been that intimate with a man. In fact, it would be best
if you didn’t mention it to my dad. He might be inclined to reach for his shotgun.”
It took a minute for Slade to understand the implication. “A shotgun wedding?”
“I am getting on in years. Dad would like to see me married off and producing grandchildren. My brothers have been lax in that
department.” For the moment she’d forgotten about Margaret. When she remembered, she felt her exhilaration rush out of her
with all the force of a deflating balloon. “Don’t worry,” she was quick to add. “All you need to do is tell Dad about your
fiancée and he’ll let you off the hook.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice cheerful.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t take a bite of your hamburger.”
“Are you kidding? That would have put me directly into your last will and testament.”
“I was afraid of that,” he said, laughing good-naturedly.
Once again she noticed how rich and deep the sound of his laughter was. It had the most overwhelming effect on her. She discovered
that, when he laughed, nothing could keep her spirits down.
Their progress was hampered by the still-swirling snow, and finally their forward movement became little more than a crawl.
She didn’t mind. They chatted, joked and sang along with the radio. She discovered that she enjoyed his wit. Although a bit
dry, under that gruff, serious exterior lay an interesting man with a warm but subtle sense of humor. Given any other set
of circumstances, she would have loved to get to know Slade Garner better.
“What’d you buy your dad for Christmas?”
The question came so unexpectedly that it took her a moment to realize that he was speaking to her.
“Are you concerned that I have soup in my bag?”
He scowled, momentarily puzzled. “Ah, to go with the bread. No, I was just curious.”
“First I got him a box of his favorite chocolate-covered cherries.”
“I should have known it’d be food.”
“That’s not all,” she countered a bit testily. “We exchange the normal father-daughter gifts. You know. Things like stirrup
irons, bridles and horse blankets. That’s what Dad got me last Christmas.”
He cleared his throat. “Just the usual items every father buys his daughter. What about this year?”
“Since Sampson and I aren’t even living in the same state, I imagine he’ll resort to the old standbys, like towels and sheets
for my apartment.” She was half hoping that, at the mention of her place in San Francisco, Slade would turn the conversation
in that direction and ask her something about herself. He didn’t, and she was hard-pressed to hide her disappointment.
“What about you?” she asked into the silence.
“Me?” His gaze flickered momentarily from the road.
“What did you buy your family?”
He gave her an uncomfortable look. “Well, actually, I didn’t. It seemed simpler this year just to send them money.”
“I see.” She knew that was perfectly acceptable in some cases, but it sounded so cold and uncaring for a son to resort to
a gift of money. Undoubtedly, once he and Margaret were married, they would shop together for something appropriate.
“I wish now that I hadn’t. I think my parents would have enjoyed fresh sourdough bread and chocolate-covered cherries.” He hesitated for an instant. “I’m not as confident about the stirrups and horse blankets, however.”
As they neared Tacoma, Shelly was surprised at how heavy the traffic had gotten. The closer they came to Maple Valley, the
more anxious she became.
“My exit isn’t far,” she told him, growing impatient. “Good grief, you would expect people to stay off the roads in weather
like this.”
“Exactly,” he agreed without hesitation.
It wasn’t until she heard the soft timbre of his chuckle that she realized he was teasing her. “You know what I mean.”
He didn’t answer as he edged the car ahead. Already the night was pitch-dark. Snow continued to fall with astonishing vigor.
She wondered when it would stop. She was concerned about Slade driving alone from Maple Valley to Seattle.
“Maybe I should phone my dad,” she suggested, momentarily forgetting that her cell was dead.
“Why?”
“That way he could come and pick me up, and you wouldn’t—”
“I agreed to deliver you to Maple Creek, and I intend to do exactly that.”
“Maple Valley,” she corrected.
“Wherever. A deal is a deal. Right?”
A rush of pleasure assaulted her vulnerable heart. Slade wasn’t any more eager to put an end to their adventure than she was.
“It’s the next exit,” she informed him, giving him the directions to the ten-acre spread on the outskirts of town.
Taking out a pen and paper, she drew a detailed map for him so he wouldn’t get lost on the return trip to the freeway.
Under the cover of night, there was little to distinguish one road from another, and he could easily become confused.
Sitting straighter, she excitedly pointed to her left. “Turn here.”
Apparently in preparation for his departure for the airport, her father had plowed the snow from the long driveway.
The headlights cut into the night, revealing the long, sprawling ranch house that had been Shelly’s childhood home. A tall
figure appeared at the window, and almost immediately the front door opened.
Slade had barely put the car into Park when Shelly threw open the door.
“Shortcake!”
“Dad.” Disregarding the snow and wind, she flew into his arms.
“You little . . . Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by car?”
“We rented it.” Remembering Slade, she looped an arm around her father’s waist. “Dad, I’d like you to meet Slade Garner.”
Her father stepped forward. “Don Griffin,” he said, and extended his hand. “So you’re Shelly’s surprise. Welcome to our home.
I’d say it was about time my daughter brought a young man home for her father to meet.”