Chapter 3
Evan
Jesus Christ!
That was one of the scariest fucking things I’d ever witnessed, and now this woman was a weeping mess in front of me. I couldn’t blame her. I’d probably be crying, too, if I’d just lived through that, but I had no clue what to say to her.
I pulled Fowl back and patted her shoulder gently, hoping the contact would remind her I was still there, but she just cried harder. She hadn’t worn a coat. My guess was that it was at the bottom of the ravine, but she was at least smart enough to wear a hat and gloves.
“You’re okay, miss. It’s just a car.”
The wind from the storm kicked up and muffled her voice. “The car can be replaced. It’s what’s in the car!”
My heart stopped, and Fowl barked and pointed his nose in the direction of the car like he had the same question I did. “Is there someone else in there?”
“What?” She shuffled carefully to the edge of the road and winced when she spotted her car in the gully. She shook her head. “No. Thank God. But there’s stuff in the trunk that I need.”
“Okay, well, once the storm passes, we can get somebody up here to haul your car down the mountain. You can get your stuff then.”
Fowl trotted back to her side. She hadn’t yet looked at me, and her shoulders dropped a couple inches in defeat. “Can’t we go down there now?”
I pointed at her shoes even though she couldn’t see me. “Those tennis shoes won’t do you any favors in deep snow, and you don’t have a coat. Probably not a good idea at the moment. Besides, it’s dark.”
She looked down at her shoes, and Fowl sat in the snow and looked up at her. He whined a little, but even as she looked down at him, I didn’t think she could see him.
“Those shoes might as well be flip-flops,” I went on, hoping to talk her out of trying to climb down after her stuff.
“They’d give your feet about as much protection against the cold snow.
” I turned and headed back to my warm truck.
“C’mon. I’ll drive you up to your cabin.
You can relax for the night, and we’ll figure everything out in the light of day. ”
“How did you know I was staying at the cabin?” she asked, and I heard her following behind me, the rubber soles of her pink shoes scuffing against the ice on the road. “You don’t even know who I am.”
“You’re right,” I said, “C’mon, Fowl.” I patted my thigh and he came to heel. “But Doc Whitley told me to expect a woman. He said you’d be here by seven.” Pulling my phone from my coat pocket, I checked the time. “It’s now 7:37, so I came lookin’ for you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t.”
I tugged my beanie down low over my eyes and yanked my hood over my head to guard against the wind beginning to whip down from Mount Bannon, and when I turned to face her, her whole body had been lit up by my truck’s headlights.
Holy shit. Lizzie?
Snowflakes seemed to ebb and flow around her in the light, like her beauty made her untouchable, even by snow. And she was the definition of beauty—silky, wavy hair under her hat, bright, smooth skin, and those eyes. Still green and sharp as a whip.
Without my say so, my hand lifted and pressed against my chest over my coat, trying to slow my racing heart.
She was a vision. I’d known there was a miniscule possibility it could be her coming to stay. Well, I hoped. But I never dared to dream it.
Squinting and trying to see through the bright light and snow, she asked, “Are you Mr. Moran? I’m sorry, I thought you’d be older.”
“I-I…” Technically, I was Mr. Moran, but I was sure the Mr. Moran she had expected was my dad.
She didn’t remember me. Or maybe she just hadn’t really seen me yet.
As I kept staring at her, she began to fidget. “I’m guessing you know who I am. I don’t have any T-shirts or anything on me, obviously, but if you have a pen, I could sign something.”
“Yes, I’m Moran. I work for your granddad, and no, I don’t want your autograph.”
What I wanted was another kiss. It had always been what I wanted.
“Not a country fan?” she asked. She smiled and I swore I felt my heart stutter. “I haven’t been up on this mountain since I was a kid. As you can imagine, my job keeps me pretty busy.”
I didn’t say anything. Her job? Was global superstar a “job”?
“What?” she asked when I turned toward my door without a word.
I hated the way it made me feel not to open her door for her, but if I did that, she might recognize me. “Nothin’.”
I couldn’t identify the feeling deep inside me, the one that screamed at me not to let her know who I was, so I pulled my own door open, hoping to distract her, and a rush of warm air hit me in the face as Fowl jumped into my seat and then over the console.
He settled down in the back and looked back and forth between Lizzie and me.
“What?” she asked again, and she walked around the truck and opened the passenger-side door.
She planted her hands on her hips, raised an eyebrow, and stared at me, waiting.
The interior light was out in the cab ’cause I kept forgetting to replace the damn bulb, so she still couldn’t really see me.
She cocked her head. “You clearly have an opinion about something I said, so tell me. What? Wait. Lemme guess. You’ve heard the gossip, so now you think you get to have an opinion about my life? ”
I shook my head. Yeah, I had heard the gossip when I’d gone down to stock up on winter supplies before the snow hit.
I’d seen her distraught face on the cover of no less than five magazines.
One had read, “Two months after her ex’s scathing tell-all, and Eli Winter is still in hiding.
When will she admit the truth about her bid to steal Holly Collette’s country crown?
” I hadn’t read the articles though. They were bullshit. Even I knew that.
God, Evan, you idiot! Why hadn’t I put two and two together? Of course she would come up here to get away from the media. There wasn’t a better place to hide out, but it had been a while since that news had broken. Why was she here now?
“I’m sure you’re not telling the truth,” she said as she climbed into my truck, “but I appreciate your discretion.” Her voice felt warm, and it was gravelly as it wrapped around me when she slammed her door shut with a hard tug.
I remembered that voice. I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to recognize the sound.
I drank her in. As I took the driver’s seat, my eyes did a careful perusal of every inch of her. She was the same person I’d kissed in a snowy parking lot six years ago, but this wasn’t the same young med student.
She was most definitely a woman.
Her jeans hugged hips I’d sell my soul to wrap my hands around, and her nipples were as tight and hard as beads, and they strained against her black and gray T-shirt from some concert venue in Nashville since she wasn’t wearing a coat. She had to be frozen to the bone.
Reaching behind my seat, I grabbed the edge of the wool blanket Fowl was sitting on.
“Here,” I said. I took care to keep my face as hidden as I could, and I tugged.
Fowl offered me a low grunt of annoyance, but he moved off the blanket.
I pulled it over the center console between our seats and held it out to her.
“I’m sorry if it smells like Fowl, but it’ll keep you warm. ”
She took the blanket from my hand without looking at me. “Thank you. Wait? Your dog’s name is Foul?”
“Short for Fowler.”
“Oh.”
And now, I felt her staring. Shit. I needed to say something or she’d think I’d lost my mind.
Focusing on the road, I said, “I don’t listen to gossip, Miss Winter.
A lot had happened since Manny’s Bar. I didn’t know her any more tonight than I had six years ago, but I was pretty sure all the lies being told about her were just that—lies.
I supposed it possible that she really had turned into some spoiled, entitled jerk, but if she was anything like the girl I met that night, it couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
She probably thought some backwoods guy like me had no clue about music awards or top-ten charts, but I did. I’d followed her career. Subscribed to her newsletter even. My Eli from six years ago had become Eli Winter, global superstar and girl next door.
I’d bet she had no idea I listened to her songs when the bad memories hit.
It had been one hell of a coincidence that the one time I’d watched television during the day, she’d been on some show doing a performance of my favorite song, “Never Far.” The song I’d tried over and over to convince myself wasn’t about me, but the lyrics left little doubt:
You’re in my dreams, you know?
And the snow makes you hazy,
but your cowboy hat and the press of your lips made me crazy
“I apologize,” I said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Yes, I’ve heard whispers of the gossip, but that’s all it is. And I promise, I won’t be a problem for you. I respect your granddad. I’ve known him my whole life. He asked me to look after you and keep your secret, so that’s what I’ll do.”
She sighed and wiggled her ass on my seat, trying to find a comfortable spot. “Thank you.”
Images of her wiggling that ass while she straddled me on that seat overtook my mind, and my hands began to sweat. They slid off the steering wheel and landed in my lap.
Shit. “You’re welcome. Now, put on your seatbelt. We’re gonna have to drive down the mountain a bit and find a place to turn around.”
“How can you be so sure we won’t just end up in the same situation my friend’s car is in?”
“That ain’t your car?” I winced. Whoever had let her borrow theirs was in for some rough news.
I ached to look at her. To memorize her face again. So much time had passed, and we were different people, but the attraction I’d felt for her in that parking lot forever ago hadn’t gone away. It raged inside me, and the fear I heard in her voice wanted to break me.
I wanted to wrap her in my arms and hold her close. Make that fear go away.