“Son of a—” I smack the wheel, then climb back out, bracing against the wind.
I slam the hood open and double-check the cables—they’re secure, but the battery’s drained. Between the idle time, freezing temps, and no block heater, she’s not coming back tonight.
“Perfect,” I mutter.
After a minute of staring at it, I shut the hood with a curse and trudge back to the porch, radio and gloves in hand. My boots leave deep tracks in the powder, which the wind tries to immediately erase.
I radio back to Beck to tell him I’m stuck, then knock again.
The door eventually lurches open, revealing Frankie still wrapped in her blanket, but her hair is more mussed and her breathing is just a little uneven.
“Seriously?”
I hold up the radio. “Truck’s dead. Battery’s toast.”
Her mouth parts. “You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was. Radioed in already, but the storm’s getting worse. Roads are shot to hell.” I step inside. “I’ll try again in a bit.”
She squints. “You’re stuck here?”
“Looks like it.”
She stares at me, and I stare back. There’s a long crackling pause, and I watch her hand tighten on the edge of the blanket.
“Cool,” she says finally. “Superfestive.”
I don’t acknowledge that, just start unzipping my turnout coat and drape it over the nearest chair.
Frankie’s eyes snap downward, and she tracks the slow slide of my undershirt as I yank it over my head. Watches the way it pulls across my chest and shoulders.
Her blanket slips an inch lower, and my mouth twitches.
“Problem?” I ask.
Her gaze jerks back up. “You’re dripping on the floor.”
“I’m not the only one, I don't think.”
She chokes. “Excuse me?”
I give her a grin, and finish taking my gear off, while she throws me a look that could cauterize.
“If I’d known you were gonna get stuck here, I would’ve gladlywalkedback to the Parnell's.”
“Mm, lucky me.”
I turn away, scanning the cabin with more focus. Small kitchenette, fireplace, couch, armchair, one closed door.
“Gonna see if there’s anything dry I can borrow from their closet,” I say, already moving toward the bedroom.
I push open the bedroom door to find it tidy. Cozy. A little messy in the way you expect—one boot near the wall, a cardigan draped over the chair, and a bottle of water on the nightstand.
And on the other side of the bed—
Well.
There’s a sleek purple vibrator, a small bottle of lube, and a shiny gold plug glinting with a red gem on the end.
