I throw my hands up in exasperation. This isn’t the kind of break I was looking for. It’s just making the situation even worse. Seconds tick before I break my glare and shake my head, backing away from my car.
Why can’t a nice old grandpa find me?
“Did you break down?” He gestures as a huge gust of wind blasts me, making me wobble on my heels. I’m never wearing heels again. I drop a sigh, as if it hurts to confess my error.
“Ran out of gas.”
A wide knowing grin grows on his face. “I can give you a ride back to town if you want.”
No, I sure don’t want to do that, but apparently what I want doesn’t ever matter.
I dart a glance over my shoulder, estimating how far I’d driven. I think it’s about six miles to the nearest gas station. Not an issue at all if it was nice out, and if I wasn’t in heels.The wind howls around me, piercing at my exposed fingers, and I curl them into fists and stuff them into my pockets. My right hand—the one that got stomped on—throbs out its own heartbeat. It’s only a hand, but it adds to my overall feeling of overwhelm. I hate this situation with everything in me.
I look back at Noah, then down the highway.
Six miles in a car is less than five minutes, and then I can be on with my night. I cut my gaze back to him, and he seems tobe studying me, as if he’s already making up a rebuttal to any defense I would offer.
I might as well take the ride.
I flick my hair back, but it’s useless because the wind whips it back around my face. I look at him, silently pleading for him not to make this awkward. “Ah, if it’s not a bother, I’ll take a ride to the gas station.”
He nods, flicking his gaze back to his car, and without any more words we rush toward it, as it seems like the weather is getting worse by the minute.After slamming my door, I’m hit with the scent of new expensive leather. It sort of makes me hate him a little more as his life is so picture-perfect, while mine is drastically imploding. He cranks the heat and then shifts the car into gear, pulling out. It’s cringe quiet, and I slowly allow the breath I’d been holding to leak out of my lungs.
He keeps his gaze on the road. “Where are you headed?”
Warmth returns to my face, flushing with heat. I’m unsure if it’s a reaction to the cold, the humiliation over my situation, or maybe a third embarrassing option of my memories of being stomped on at the gala flooding back. I fiddle with the ends of my long hair, pulling it over my shoulder, and nervously comb the tangles with my fingers. “Back to my Airbnb.”
His jaw twitches, drawing my attention back to it. It’s a shame all the jerks get the best jawlines. I drop my gaze and focus on pulling the loose string on my scarf. One minute down.
“Did you know there’s a winter storm advisory?”His tone is friendly, but yet so irritating.
I seal my lips together as I fight to keep all my secrets inside. Like how I hate him, and I’m only here to destroy his career. “You can take this exit.” I point out my window, fixing my gaze on the truck stop, a beacon calling me back to my sanity.
He pulls into the truck stop entrance and parks in a spot right up front. He gives me a sideways stare. Before he has a chance tooffer, I yank on my door handle, relief already rushing into my lungs with the icy air. “I’ll be right back,” I mutter. The place is fairly crowded with trucks waiting out the storm. It takes me a few minutes to grab a gas can and fill it. I’m back in the car in less than five minutes, and we drive in silence back to my car. Noah parks behind my car. “Can I help?”
“I got it from here.” I’m already sliding out of my door, so thankful to get out of here. “Thanks for the ride.”
“You bet. See you around—”
I slam my door, shutting off his sentence, and murmur, “Not if I can help it.” I tug the strings on my hood, pulling it tight around my head as I walk back to my car. I’m so glad that’s over. I hope I never run into him again like that.
four
Paisley
When I originally reached out to Bill Baker about doing a spread on his team, he graciously offered to arrange a small office space in the Mapleton Arena, where Granite Ice plays. It’s been perfect because I get all kinds of behind-the-scenes access to the team. Plus, it’s past the janitor’s closet, where nobody goes, so it’s super quiet. Not surprisingly, this spot has quickly become the place where I do my best editing.
I spent all Monday morning taking photos of practice and got nothing incriminating, which was a super huge disappointment. After lunch, I return to my office, but as soon as I open the door, I halt.
A beautiful camera sits on my desk.
My camera.
Seeing it’s all in one piece brings a giant sigh, and I plop into my chair and pick up the camera. There’s nothing to indicate who dropped it off. I assume it was the lady from the hotel. I’msad I missed her stopping by, because I owe her a huge thank you. I’m so grateful to have it again.
My shoulders fall, releasing all my tension. At least I know the photos didn’t end up in the hands of someone else. Not to mention, three weeks of my hard work would have been lost. Add on the embarrassment of getting stomped on at the gala, and it would have all been for nothing.
I turn the camera over, examining it. The lens falls into my hand, and I see a long crack right up the center. My stomach sinks. I can replace the lens, but it’s not cheap. My stomach drops even more as I continue my examination. Sure enough, the onboard flash is missing. Again, I can replace that as well, but this is getting expensive. I turn the camera over to open the memory card slot, but the compartment is wide open.
