He’s right. It’s on my shoulders and in my hair. My face is damp and cold, and I’m still shivering, despite the warm recycled air blowing through the air vents.
“Take the wettest stuff off and use the blanket.” It’s an order, not a suggestion, one that leaves me quivering with need. Damon Cole is taking care of me. Why?
“Uh…”
“Do it.”
Who am I to resist his stern, growly voice? I take off my shoes, socks, and jacket, and wrap myself in the blanket.
“Feel better?”
“Uh-huh, thank you.”
The song playing is interrupted by an emergency weather report. I huddle deeper into the blanket as I listen to the ‘do not travel’ warning, and the grim news that, for the next couple of hours at least, the snowstorm is here to stay.
“Well, fuck,” Damon growls.
That would be one way to pass the time. I press my lips together to stop myself from voicing the all-too-tempting thought out loud.
“I guess you aren’t going to make the ball after all. Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
I was the one who had promised to get him there. But I couldn’t have foreseen weather like this. Apparently, even the forecasters couldn’t.
“I guess we’ve got no choice but to wait the storm out here.” In the middle of nowhere, in an admittedly comfortable car. I climb across into the front passenger seat, where I’ve got more legroom and no steering wheel in the way. “I’ve warmed up now. Do you want the blanket?”
“You keep it.”
“I should turn the engine off.” Not that I want to. Cars aren’t known for keeping the heat in. Once I turn the engine off, it’s going to get cold in here. Fast. Not to mention dark.
Damon nods grimly.
I flick the hazard lights on and turn the engine off. We need to be visible, just in case something gets through the snow—a snowplough, for example. I also leave the star ceiling on. It’s pretty and comforting.
“Two hours,” Damon says.
“At least. Even when the storm ends, we might not be able to get out of here.” Especially not with how quickly the snow is laying. “We could be stuck until it melts, or someone digs us out.”
“Fantastic,” he mumbles. “Fucking fantastic.”
5
DAMON
It’s surreal, looking out the window at nothing but white. The wind howling around the car is the only sound except for the chattering of our teeth. The temperature in the car dropped fast.
“Do you want the blanket, boss?” Rowan asks.
I shake my head and hug myself tighter.
We’ve been sipping water to keep ourselves hydrated, and we’ve eaten a couple of squares each of the Kendal Mint Cake. It’s overly sweet, but I have to admit it’s given me a much-needed energy boost. The trouble is, now I need to piss. I guess I’ll have to leave the safety of the car.
“Be right back.” I push the door open.
Rowan puts his hand on the back of the passenger seat. “Where are you going?”
“To piss.” I brush my fingertips against his for the briefest of moments. I tell myself I’m doing it to reassure him, and not because I want to hold him in my arms to keep him warm.
