Chapter Seventeen Ella
Chapter Seventeen
Ella
Laughter still lingers between us as the sled surges forward.
I grip the sides, bracing myself as Rhia urges the dogs faster. Wind whips against my face, stealing my breath.
As we speed down a road, Rhia gestures to an overturned car, and in that split second, she yanks on the reins.
The sled jerks sideways.
My stomach drops.
“Rhi—”
Too late.
We veer off course, hurtling straight toward a massive snowman standing at the end of a driveway.
For one frozen second, everything slows.
Then we slam into it.
Snow explodes around us. The impact throws me off the sled, and I’m airborne for a heartbeat before crashing into a soft drift.
Silence.
Then laughter bursts out of me, wild and uncontrollable.
Rhia is beside me, shaking with giggles.
“Oh my God, that was insane! Are you okay, El?” she asks between breaths. “Tiero is going to kill me if anything happens to you or this baby.”
I roll onto my back, wiping tears from my eyes, still laughing.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
The dogs have stopped and are looking back at us, heads tilted, as if wondering what’s taking us so long to get back up.
Our laughter dies quickly when the homeowner storms toward us.
He’s bundled up like an arctic explorer, only his eyes visible above a scarf wrapped tight around his face. He tugs his beanie lower as he shouts,
“What the heck do you think you’re doing? It took my kids weeks to build that snowman! They’ll be devastated! Which one of you is responsible for this?”
Rhia pushes herself to her feet, a snowflake still clinging to her nose. Completely unfazed, she squares her shoulders like she’s about to go into battle.
Hands on her hips, she fires back, “Which one of us is responsible? Who in their right mind builds a giant snowman in a public thoroughfare? You should have considered the risk of accidents. I hope for your sake you’re insured.
“Next time, put up a warning sign or something. It’s not our fault that snowman was blocking the middle of our expressway. We’re on a very important mission, and God help you if you turn out to be responsible for my friend missing—”
“Expressway?” the man snaps, his breath puffing in the cold air. “This is a residential street!”
She crosses her arms, defiant, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Well, sir, you may not have noticed, but there’s just been a blizzard. Your snow monster has completely blocked the only navigable path. You should have thought about that before you built it.”
His mouth falls open, clearly at a loss for words.
My gaze drifts to the street sign a few steps away, and I push myself up.
Mountain View Lane.
A shiver runs through me.
I scan the houses, searching for a number.
53.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
How is this the house we’re looking for?
And the furious man in front of us…
He has to be George Roberts.
This is ridiculous.
Seriously, what are the odds of crashing into a snowman in the first place? And then one that belongs to the man controlling the legality of my marriage?
Claudette is going to have a field day with this.
What I can see of his face has turned red, and he’s tugging at the scarf around his neck.
Yep, I recognize him now.
“Rhia,” I whisper-shout, trying to get her attention, but she’s in full swing.
“Next time, think about public safety, old man,” she says in her thick Irish accent.
Old man?
Oh god, why did she have to call him that?
I swear I can practically see steam rising from beneath his beanie. He’s about to let loose.
“This is a residential street, not a winter amusement park!”
“Well, it is now,” Rhia shoots back, gesturing at the chaos around us. “And I must say, your snowman, what’s left of him, makes a fantastic jump.”
Mr. Roberts’ eyes widen. His mouth falls open again.
Holy crap.
What am I going to do?
I’m never getting that marriage license now.
“Rhia,” I hiss, stepping closer, but she ignores me.
“Rhia, sweets.” I try a smile. No luck.
I tug her elbow, but she doesn’t even react. Maybe she can’t feel it through all those layers.
“Rhia, my little firecracker,” I sing under my breath. Still nothing.
“Seriously. Rhianna Lily Bannaghan, shut the hell up,” I snap, pinching her arm.
She turns to me, hands on her hips.
“Please, Ella. I’m in the middle of someth—”
I lean in, lowering my voice. “This is the guy we need. This is Mr. Roberts.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck me. How does this even happen?” she mutters.
We step apart just as a neighbor from across the street approaches, shovel in hand.
Oh no. Are we about to get buried in a snowbank?
The man’s curious smile eases some of the tension as he takes in the wreckage, glancing between Mr. Roberts and us.
“Are you girls okay?” he asks.
“Yes, thank you,” I say, my voice a little shaky. How are we going to turn this disaster around?
He tilts his head. “Maybe we should start a Winter Olympics right here, George. Your kids would love that just as much as mine. Dog sleds and snowman slalom.”
Rhia bursts out laughing, and I hold my breath, watching Mr. Roberts closely.
The corners of his mouth twitch. His scowl softens.
“Fuckin’ tourists,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of amusement now. Then he chuckles.
Rhia doesn’t waste a second. She loops her arm through his, flashing him her most charming smile.
For someone with her temper, she’s surprisingly good at damage control.
Mr. Roberts’ cheeks flush deeper. He’s not immune to her, clearly. Works for me.
“George,” she says sweetly, “may I call you George? You won’t believe this, but you are exactly the man we’re looking for.”