Chapter 20 #2
Her expression falls, and I feel bad. I needed to say what was on my heart, but my execution could’ve been a little less emotional.
“It’s unfair of me to dump all this on you, then bolt.
But it’s really urgent, or else I’d stay.
” I soften my voice. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but you did. We need a long talk.”
“Yeah, it’s overdue.” She pulls in a breath. “I’m sorry about the bulbs. I’m sorry for a lot of things.” She glances out the window, reluctance marking her brow. “Do you really have to leave? It might snow.”
It’s Northern Ohio in December. The sky always looks like that.
“Yeah. It’s important.” I give her a hug because, while I have questions, I’m an adult.
I grab the tub, trying hard not to think about the damaged ornaments, and rush out the door.
“Time is of the essence” sounds cliché-ish but totally accurate.
Midge’s store is in Sugarvale, about two hours away.
I check the clock on the dash. It’s half past one. Since Midge’s store closes at five, I should get there with moments to spare. Problem is, with Midge, it’s first come, first served. If someone else knows about the nativity set, it’s a race. And I don’t intend to lose.
I punch the gas.
The sweet widow will get her Vallerton set.
After forty minutes on the road, I realize Mom missed her calling as a meteorologist. The skies unleash fluffy white stuff.
I flick on my wipers to the level just above lazy and right below dramatic.
As I drive, the weather gets worse. The whole “dashing through the snow” thing is great in theory, but it sucks on Rt. 11.
I’ve driven in snowy conditions since I was a teen. I can handle it. What I can’t handle? Ice. So I slow my speed because even four-wheel drive isn’t awesome on slippery roads. The freeway is eerily empty. Needing to fill the silence, I call Tilly over Bluetooth.
“I have all the things set for tonight” is how she answers.
I lean over the steering wheel as if it will help with visibility. “I might be late.”
“Where are you?”
“Heading toward Sugarvale.”
“Uh, why?”
“To get Leo’s nativity set. An antique shop has one, but it’ll go fast.” Might be gone now. There’s no way of knowing because I can’t get ahold of Midge. “It’s snowing hard, so I’m basically crawling.”
“Take your time.”
A deer darts onto the road.
“Oh crap! Move!” I squeal and swerve, so I don’t hit the stunned beast. I lose control and skid. A pump of the brakes. A jerk of the tires. No success. The car skids off the road into a snowbank. “No!” I slam my hands on the steering wheel.
“What happened?” Tilly screams into the phone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m stuck in a snowdrift on the side of the road.” I shift the gear into reverse. The engine growls with the spinning of tires. It’s obvious the car is on a slight incline—no doubt due to packed snow—but even gravity doesn’t want to help a girl out because I’m still stationary.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. Not at all. But I can’t get the car to move.” I put the car in park, roll down my window, and stick my head out to help assess the situation. Snow is pushing against my door, but I can easily open it. Question is, do I want to step into two feet of ice crystals to vainly tug on the bumper? No.
“What can I do?”
“I have roadside assistance.”
A pause. “That might take a while, since the roads are horrible.”
I check my fuel gauge. “I’m good on gas.” Pap once told me a car can idle for over sixteen hours on a full tank. Not that I want to test that theory. “And my phone’s at ninety percent. I should be fine.” But can I still get to Midge’s before five? “I better hang up and call.”
“Okay, keep me updated. Oh, and lock your doors! I heard a story on a true crime podcast about a woman?—”
“Maybe another time, Tilly.” I already have enough chaos cramming my brain, so irrational paranoia gets put on a waiting list. I say goodbye and disconnect.
After getting the number from my insurance app, I call roadside assistance and am promptly placed on hold for half an hour.
It’s after two now. Time is wasting. I finally speak to a dispatcher, and the earliest a tow truck can reach me is around four.
I’m currently about forty-five minutes from Midge’s door.
That’s cutting things close, but what choice do I have?
I call Midge’s again. Busy. I check the radar on my weather app, and it seems like things are calming down.
The snow has shifted from rapid bursts to gentle flurries.
Hopefully the worst is past. Wanting to save my battery, just in case, I put my phone in the cup holder and try to occupy the time by mentally composing a list of who I’ve left to buy gifts for.
The answer’s easy—everyone. I try not to think about my emotional exchange with Mom, but it’s useless.
When she first walked through Pap’s door months ago, I knew this conversation was bound to happen.
At the time, I was wallowing in my grief and didn’t have the energy to confront her.
Then I felt bad. She was making an effort.
So I piled on excuses, avoiding the issue.
Deep down, though, I understood the true reason I never confronted her. Because I feared she’d leave again.
A car door slams from behind, and I flick the rear window wiper to clear the view. Thank you, Tilly, for placing true crime scenarios in my brain. Instead of a potential murderer, I spy a familiar truck.
Leo? I blink to ensure I’m not seeing a snow mirage. I’m not sure if that’s even a thing. But my confusion gives way to pure relief as he lifts a hand in greeting.
I suspect Tilly’s behind this. Beautiful, wonderful Tilly.
I don’t often relish the damsel in distress role, but I have to say, it does have its perks.
Like my current view being the late afternoon sun carving out Leo’s figure as he strides closer.
Though I don’t mistake the concern etching his face.
I open the door, pushing against the pressing snow, and peek out.
His gaze fuses to mine, and his shoulders lower, as if his every joint has locked tight, only giving way when he sees I’m unharmed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Which I’m thankful for. All things considered, it could’ve been a lot worse.
He stands on the edge of the snowbank, eyes raking over my car. “Any damage?”
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “I missed the deer. But I got new accommodations in this nicely furnished snowdrift.”
He smiles at my sarcasm.
His wool coat’s covering up his shirt, but I can tell from his khaki pants that he’s more dressed up than usual.
The backward hat is noticeably absent, and his wild waves are subdued.
Was he … on a date? I don’t like the clawing in my gut, but I currently have bigger issues—like getting my car off a mound of snow. “I called roadside assistance.”
“Cancel it. We’ll have you out.”
“We?” I twist in my seat and see Mitchell jumping out of Leo’s passenger door.
Mitchell grins with an exaggerated wave as he nears. “Hey, Greta. Did you lose sight of the road?”
I huff a laugh. “Sorry to pull you away from duty. Think of all those jaywalkers running amok.” Dressed in sweats, Mitchell definitely isn’t on patrol, but it’s nice to get jabs in when I can.
He rolls his eyes. “I see your mishap hasn’t affected your attitude. Tilly called and asked me to get ahold of a Remington Mathis from the fire department. Who turns out to be your Killer Hill friend.”
I ignore Mitchell’s eyebrow wag and glance at Leo, who’s cutting through the snowbank, the powder coming to his knees. I shiver just watching him approach.
He reaches my open door, and for some reason, my heart swells with emotion. It could be the awful morning I’ve had, or the fact that he came for me even after I acted like a weirdo. I blink away the moisture and smile. “Thank you for being here.”
His eyes scan my face. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Then he glances at his snow-clad legs. “Well, maybe not in this exact spot.” He flashes a grin, even though he’s probably losing feeling in his lower extremities. “I’ll carry you out. Wrap your arms around my neck.”
I grab my purse, and Leo scoops me from the car like some kind of avalanche avenger. His arms tighten around me, and a surge of heat chases the chill from my fingertips.
While Leo’s trudging through the snowdrift, Mitchell is grabbing the kinetic rope from the truck bed.
I glance up at Leo, noting the snowflakes catching on his stubble, in his hair.
“Was Mitchell grumbling the whole way because this pulled him away from football?” Growing up, Tilly and I would deliberately plan Jane Austen movie marathons on Sunday afternoons just to commandeer the television.
It probably was mean, but Mitchell always got us back, one way or another.
Leo scoffs. “I don’t know who was more worried about you. Me or him.” He looks down at me, his lips hitching into a smile. “What is it with you, Greta the Charmer of Silver Creek Men?”
I snort. “Hardly.” Though I’m oddly touched he adopted my quirk of tacking on descriptors.
He manages to open the passenger side door to his truck while holding me and gently sets me inside. “Don’t downplay your influence.” His eyes are hot on mine. “Because you’ve got a chokehold on me.”
It’s freezing. I can’t feel the tip of my nose. But Leo’s words are a warm jolt, a shot of fire to my adrenals.
He saves me from coming up with a clever response by reaching across me and grabbing a travel blanket. He spreads it across my lap. “Sit tight. We’ll get your car out.” He opens the glove box and pulls out a Snickers. “You must be starving.”
That’s it. The man has my entire heart. That beating gushy thing landed into Leo’s palm as he plunked chocolate into mine. “Thank you,” I casually say as if I’m not going to devour it in three bites once his back’s turned.
He opens the cab door and grabs … the folder I’d left at his house. “Here’s this too.”
I flush as he gently drops it onto my lap. “Thank you.”
Leo and Mitchell get to work, connecting the rope to my Highlander, then to Leo’s truck. The remainder of the human race seems to have decided to stay out of the elements because we have the entire stretch of road to ourselves.
I check my phone. It’s almost three. Two hours until Midge locks her doors.
Mitchell hops into the driver’s seat of my car, and Leo jumps behind the wheel beside me.
He gives a reassuring smile. “Here goes nothing.” He does some skilled maneuvering and successfully frees my car from its snowy prison.
I give a victory whoop, and he laughs. As a firefighter, he probably has to do things like this a lot, but I’m glad to have a front row seat to his heroics.
I watch as Mitchell backs onto the road and flicks on the hazards.
“What now?” I turn to Leo.
He shrugs. “Up to you. Mitchell and I can head back to Silver Creek, and you can choose wherever you’d like to go. Though I recommend following us back because it’s getting bad out. Or Mitchell can take my truck to the station, and I can hitch a ride with you.”
Simple answer. “Option B. But with an addendum.”
“Shoot.”
“I have to get to Midge’s by five, and I want you to drive me there.” I’m so ready to be a passenger princess.
“Midge’s?”
“Yeah, she owns an antique shop in Sugarvale. She’s got your nativity set and?—”
“Greta,” he says with a gravelly undertone. “You drove out here in all this.” He jerks a thumb outside. “Because of me?”
“Of course. I told you how crazy difficult it is to find that set. Midge is a trusted dealer.”
He rakes a hand over his face. “I don’t know whether to scold you or kiss you.”
I freeze in my seat, and I spot the second he catches what he said. If I expect him to get embarrassed about the topic of kissing, I’d be wrong.
His smile builds slowly. “Though now that I think about it, I know exactly which one I’d choose.”
My skin heats, and my mind places me back in his arms in front of his tree. The ambiance of it all. The passion in his touch. “Uh …”
A tap at my window makes me jump.
Mitchell. “Forget about me?”
I totally did. I open the door and hop out. “You’re unforgettable, Mitchell.” I reach up and pat his cold cheek. “Thank you for helping.”
He nods. “Stay home next time,” he says in his cop voice.
“Doubtful.” I grin, then give Leo the come-hither look—that’s less romantic and more let’s go before we’re too late . Not sure if he catches all that, but I prop myself in the passenger seat of my car all the same.
After a minute, he tosses his bag in the back, then settles in the driver’s seat. It’s like we’re playing musical cars. I wave at Mitchell as he drives off in Leo’s truck.
Leo amps up the heat. “You sure you want to attempt this?”
“It’s like a thousand-to-one chance that we find this set. More or less. My mathing is iffy, but I think we should try.” The only reason why the odds are higher in Ohio is because Rene Vallerton was a local artist. So one may pop up occasionally, but again, they go fast.
“And if we get stuck in the snow again?”
“Technically, I didn’t get stuck because of the snow. It was a rogue Rudolph,” I say this as the plow truck barrels past, laying salt down and splashing my car with slush in the process. “Look, he’s clearing our path. How convenient.”
Leo puts the car in gear, and we’re heading toward the prize. Everything’s going smoothly. We’re making excellent time, and the skies have cleared. I’m just getting comfortable when Leo turns down Michael Bublé and clears his throat. “So are we going to discuss last night?”
I look pointedly out the window and ask in my most innocent voice, “What about it?”
“You know what I’m talking about. The kiss.”
“Oh, that.” I give a wave as if I make out with gorgeous guys on the daily.
“Yes, that.” He flicks the wipers and tosses me a look. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” Which is the truth. “It wasn’t the kiss that freaked me out. The kiss was … perfect. It was something else. Something I didn’t realize until just today, in a total epiphany moment.” I lean forward, peering through the snowfall. “Oh! There’s our exit.”
He exhales as if he’s not entirely happy I changed the subject. Not that I blame him. But we can’t miss the exit. One thing about Ohio highways is that if you miss your turn you have to go approximately twenty to a million miles to the next exit to turn around.
I place a hand on his arm. “Let’s get the Vallerton, then I’ll explain everything.”
He agrees with a simple nod, and I direct him through the small town, trying not to get caught up in the wintery scenery. We pull onto Midge’s Antiques’s lot with twenty minutes to spare.