“You’re makin’ a mistake, Adam!”
“Thanks for the advice, Eli.”
Tipping his hat to Grace, he left the shop, climbed in his truck and pointed it toward home. It was up to Hermie, now.
His mom had pushed the budget discussion off until this afternoon. It would be a good distraction from the topic weighing on his mind.
By the time he parked his truck next to his cabin, he figured Tracy had the bag. She was like a little kid with surprises. She’dopen it immediately, read the card, check out the sign, bust open the candy and eat at least one donut. But his phone was silent.
Working on the budget helped him get through the afternoon. He kept his phone nearby just in case. Still nothing from Tracy.
At five he walked back to his cabin as fat snowflakes started to fall. Of course. She didn’t like coming out here in the dark during the winter and for sure wouldn’t want to do it in a snowstorm.
He wouldn’t want her to, either. As for him, he’d drive through a blizzard if it meant holding her tonight. But she might not contact him until… no telling when she’d get in touch. Carrie had told him to be patient.
That didn’t keep him from scanning the area from his porch before he walked inside. No sign of Bluebell. With a deep sigh he walked into his cabin and shut the door. For the first time since he’d moved in, it didn’t feel cozy.
Lighting a fire, he made a sandwich and ate it standing by the window. Darkness was his enemy. And snow.
At six he texted her.I should have checked the forecast. Please don’t try to come out. Maybe you weren’t going to, but don’t even consider it.
No response. Dammit, was she already on the road? Or safe in her apartment? No, she wasn’t in her apartment. She wouldn’t sit snug in her living room and ignore his somewhat frantic text.
The roads would be slick by now. And he didn’t want to text again. If she was driving, he’d distract her.
This was hell. Why hadn’t he checked the weather? His cute little gift bag could have waited a day. Or two days. He could have chosen to have it delivered on Valentine’s Day itself.
If he’d done that, he could have suggested they meet at the Valentine’s bash at the Raccoon and eliminate any possibility ofthis nightmare scenario. But he hadn’t done any of those things. He’d plowed ahead. Typical.
By seven he was pacing, his stomach in a knot. Another fifteen minutes and he’d climb in his truck and go looking for her. She could’ve swerved off the road, landed in a ditch, flipped?—
The sound of an engine sent him racing to the door, flinging it open and dashing out to the porch.
He scrambled down the steps, his boots slipping where the steps were already icing up.
She opened her door. “What are you doing? Where’s your coat?”
“Never mind! Just come in!”
“But I brought?—”
“We’ll get stuff later.” Helping her out, he slammed the door and pulled her close. Then he began to shake. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.” She wrapped her arms around him. “And if you don’t get inside you’ll catch your death. Let’s go.”
“Okay.” Tucking her against him, he hustled her to the porch. They stumbled up the steps and by some miracle he kept them upright.
The door stood wide open. He nudged her through it, followed right behind and kicked it closed. Then he stood there staring at her, not quite believing she was here. “You came.”
“Of course I did.” Her tone was gentle, her gaze warm. “Hermie told me to.”
“But it’s dark. And snowing. I’m so sorry. I didn’t check the weather and so?—”
“I didn’t, either. I had to stay late with a client. When I picked up the diorama, my folks?—”
“You went to get it?”
“I had to. It was important.”
