CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – SYLVIE
“Nope. I think the battery’s gone,” Thomas said, securing the bonnet of Gramps’ truck back in place.
I bobbed on the spot and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. “Can’t you jump it?”
“If I had jump cables, then yes. Unfortunately, I don’t. Zara took them and never gave them back. Story of my life,” he finished on a mutter. “I can take you back if you want and come out here in the morning to tow it to your house.”
“Why can’t you tow it now? You have a tow hook on the back!”
“In this weather? Sylvie, I can barely see three feet in front of me when I’m driving. I only knew you’d stopped because we were on the phone.” He made doubly sure the bonnet was down and wiped his hands together. “Your choice.”
I sighed. “Fine. I guess that works. As long as you can bring it back in the morning.”
“If I can’t, I’ll get someone who can.” He handed me the keys with a sympathetic smile. “You just keep ending up in my car, don’t you?”
“Well, they say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit, so let’s hope we stop running into each other like this,” I grumbled, shoving the keys into my bag.
“Do you want to walk there?”
“In this? Not really. I’m going to get run over.”
“By what cars? We’re the only ones daft enough to be driving.” Thomas laughed and opened the passenger side door. “Come on. Get in.”
A wind blew through, sending snow hurtling all over me, and I shivered before rushing into his Range Rover. It was nice and warm in here—much better than Gramps’ old car. Really, it was no wonder the old thing had broken down in inclement weather.
I should have expected it.
Then again, I wasn’t expecting the weather either.
I was hugely regretting having stayed at the town hall to set all the trees up, given the fact it’d been snowing quite heavily when Thomas and Ryan had arrived.
It’d been a terrible call all things considered, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it now.
Just sit here in Thomas’ Range Rover and let him play bloody knight in shining armour again.
He got in the truck and slammed the door with a sigh.
“I can just walk,” I said after a second.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“You’re the one who asked me if I wanted to.”
“It was a rhetorical question, Sylvie.” He put his key back in the ignition and turned it, and for a second, I thought the car wouldn’t rumble to life, but it did. “I never intended to let you walk home. I thought you might have realised that.”
“I know, but…” I trailed off. “Never mind.”
He put the truck in reverse and looked over his shoulder, then slowly released the clutch.
It didn’t move.
The. Truck. Didn’t. Move.
“Oh, you’re having a bloody laugh,” Thomas said, revving the engine.
The truck shook and the wheels were turning, but it wasn’t reversing. We were most definitely in the same spot.
I swallowed hard. “Now what?”
He put the stick back into the neutral position and got out, and I followed him back out into the snow.
I was on the hedgerow side, and when I stepped just a smidge too close to the hedging, I sank several inches into the snow, so I knew what was going on before I even saw the fact his back wheel was off the road.
Thomas’ truck was stuck.
Oh, dear.
I wrapped my arms around myself and looked at him. “What do we do now?”
He took a deep breath in and sighed it back out, his nostrils flaring. Then, slowly, he lifted his shoulders before letting them sag back down in something that vaguely resembled a shrug.
“Is there anyone we can call? Do you think Ryan can come and get us and take us both home?”
“No, and I wouldn’t ask anyone else to drive.” He looked around. “I guess we have no choice but to walk.”
I rubbed my hands up and down my arms again, looking around. It was pitch black other than the headlights of the truck, but it wasn’t illuminating much other than the immediate area that was almost a white-out with snow anyway.
“Well,” I said, still scanning the area. “There’s a spare room at my house. You can always stay there. I’m sure Nana and Gramps won’t mind, and—”
“Sylvie, we’re closer to Castleton Manor.”
I pressed my lips together. I did not want to stay at his place. “My house is—”
“Twice as far as mine at this point,” he continued, and I could feel his gaze boring into the side of my head. “It’s ten minutes to the manor. Almost twenty-five to your house if we walk.”
I swallowed.
“If you’ve got one spare room, I’ve got ten. Mum or Beth will have pyjamas for you to borrow tonight, and we have another car that can handle this kind of weather to tow us out in the morning. It just makes sense.”
I looked in the general direction of my house before I sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Get your bag. I’m freezing my bollocks off over here.” Thomas rounded the bed of the truck and pulled out his phone. He turned on the torch, scanned the flatbed, and then checked the backseat.
I grabbed my bag from the front and checked for anything important. A black wallet I assumed belonged to him was in the centre console, so I picked it up and reached over for the keys from the ignition.
“Here,” I said to him, handing him both of his items.
“Thanks.” He went to pocket his wallet, then paused. “Actually, would you put that in your bag?”
I stared at for a moment. “Sure, I guess.” I took it back from him and tucked it into my bag with my other things, zipped it up, and opted for the long strap instead of the short handles so I could loop it over my head and across my body.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked him, brushing snowflakes off the front of my hat.
Thomas nodded. “I’ve hidden my tools the best I can, but I doubt anyone other than an absolute twat will be out here tonight.”
“Like us, then.”
“You were the one who decided to stay to sort out the trees.”
“Are you calling me a twat?” I huffed, glancing back as he locked the truck.
“No,” he replied slowly.
He was totally calling me a twat.
I wish I could say it was an unfair observation.
It wasn’t.
I was a complete and utter twat.
Thomas fell into step with me, although it was a little less stepping and bit more… clodhopping, to be honest. I couldn’t speak for Thomas, but I was having to lift my legs up like I was a marching soldier before I could take my steps.
“You look ridiculous.” He glanced over at me with his lips twitching. “Do you want to walk behind me and step in my footsteps?”
“What? Like I’m some kind of bear cub? No, thank you.” I sniffed, reaching up to wipe my nose. “I can manage.”
“All right.”
It might have been bold of me, given the weather, but I kept trudging along after him until I was a bit too far back to be comfortable.
His legs were much longer than mine given he had a solid few inches in height on me, and his Wellington boots were much more suited to such weather than my regular old leather ones were.
Not to mention that the cold, wet snow was starting to seep through the seams to the point I was frozen from the tips of my toes to about a third of the way up my legs.
For now.
The way it was still coming down said it wasn’t likely I was going to catch a break anytime soon.
“Are you coming or are you trying to get yourself snowed in in the middle of the road?” he called over his shoulder.
Another gust of wind caught us as it blew through the country lane, and approximately seven thousand snowflakes pummelled me in the face.
“Ooh, you are so not funny!” I shouted, desperately wiping at my cheeks. I tugged my scarf up as far as I could over my nose while still being able to breathe and adjusted my coat so I could pull my hood up over my hat.
“Come here.” Thomas walked back to me and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his side. “We’re nearly there. Just a couple more minutes, okay?”
“You don’t need to coddle me.”
“Sylvie, you’re cold, I’m cold, and it’s fucking cold in general. We can conserve a little warmth by walking together, unless you’d like me to leave you in the hedge to freeze to death.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t,” I squeaked out.
“Then come on,” he said in a softer voice, tugging me along with him. “Besides, I don’t mind doing this now that I know you aren’t going to hit me with something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Now I know you don’t hate me anymore.”
“Can I change my answer? I might feel differently right now.”
“The alternative is that I didn’t insist on following you home and you’d be stuck out here in this snowstorm, in the dark, without a car or a phone signal, completely alone.”
Ah.
Yes.
Well.
I suppose he had a point there.
I pressed my lips together. “You’re right. Never mind. I suppose we can be friends.”
Thomas laughed, and something about the deep, husky warmth of it twisted my insides in a weirdly good way. “We were friends anyway. You were just being stubborn about it.”
“You’ve certainly cheered up,” I pointed out. “You were a right miserable git after I told you I’d forgiven you. I was half tempted to throw my buckets of water over your head.”
“I know, but I was a bit shocked. You’ve been pretty clear you still hold that whole cricket ball thing against me.”
“You threw a cricket ball at my face. I had to get stitches. I still have a scar there. Did you think I’d let it go easily?”
“It sounds like you haven’t.”
“I’m willing to try.”
“That doesn’t sound like forgiveness.”
“My elbow is at a great angle to stab you in the ribs, you know.”
He laughed again, and it did more than twist my insides.
It twisted, turned, somersaulted them. Warmth built deep in the pit of my stomach until it flooded my entire body with such a vivacious wave of attraction that it sent a shiver rocketing through me.
Thomas tugged me closer. I guess he assumed I was cold, and I had no intention of telling him otherwise.
What was I supposed to tell him? Oh, sorry it’s snowing like shit out here, but that shiver wasn’t actually because I’m cold, but because your laugh is just so perfect.
Jesus Christ.
I needed help.
Ugh.