He muttered something under his breath, and the truck slowed for a moment. She blinked in surprise as he shrugged off his heavy jacket, leaving him in a red-and-white flannel that clung tightly to his arms and chest. “Here,” he said gruffly, tossing it over her shoulders.
The sheepskin was warm, carrying the faint scent of woodsmoke and him. She pulled it tighter and took her first deep breath ofthe day.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He didn’t answer, just kept his eyes on the road, hands locked on the wheel. Lily closed her eyes and breathed—slow and deliberate—and found calm in the storm.
The farther they drove from Northfield, the more her lungs expanded and the steadier her breathing became.
Rush glancedat Lily then forced his eyes back to the road. She was too quiet. Leaning against the seat, her head tilted to one side, red curls spilled over her shoulders and caught the glow of the dashboard lights. Her lips curved faintly, her breathing even, and she looked almost serene. It was unnerving.
Growing up with two younger sisters, he was used to chatter, arguments, moods that flipped like a switch. Lily’s eerie calm after the chaos of the day was something different, and he didn’t trust it.
Not your problem, Callahan.
He wasn’t unsympathetic. He’d help her get wherever she wanted to go, but that was it. At thirty-four, he’d had a lifetime of his younger sisters’ emergencies and helping them out of various scrapes. But this particular female, with her big green eyes and distracting curves, was putting a serious cramp in his life. He just needed to figure out where to unload her.
He squinted at the heavy clouds hanging low over the sky. He’d gotten off the thruway when the roads iced over, but conditions only worsened the farther he drove into the Adirondacks. The truck crawled through steep, twisting curves where flimsy guardrails were all that stood against the cliffs they were driving on.
In the summer, the drive was picturesque; tonight it was asnow-covered gauntlet with the wind howling through the trees and the tires fighting for grip.
Riggs looked up, alert as always to his moods. Rush quickly rubbed his head then returned his hands to the wheel.
The Adirondacks had always been his escape. Pop’s hunting cabin in the woods had given him peace and solitude when nothing else did, but the beauty in these mountains came with danger, and tonight they weren’t out of it yet.
This was supposed to be his reprieve. Off duty. Off-grid. No sisters checking on him, or worse, the people who slapped him on the back and wanted to buy him a beer he didn’t deserve. He didn’t want thanks or pity. He just wanted to forget.
The one-year mark of the accident was closing in this week, along with the memorial for Caroline Whitmore. She was blond. A single mom to a little girl with matching hair.
And now she was dead, and he was playing white knight to a runaway bride in the middle of a blizzard.
Lily Hart had no plan, no money, and no clue what she was doing.
Hell, she didn’t even have a coat.
He should’ve turned around and driven her back to her family, but something about the look in her eyes when she said she couldn’t go back had lodged under his skin.
Grimly, he turned up the radio to listen to the weather alert.
“This is the National Weather Service with an urgent winter weather advisory for the Adirondack region. Whiteout conditions and dangerously low wind chills expected. The New York State Thruway is closed due to hazardous conditions. Nonessential travel is strongly discouraged. If you must be on the roads, carry an emergency kit and be prepared for severe conditions…”
Rush’s jaw clenched as the warning ended and reality set in. They weren’t making it to a hotel. The only option left was the cabin.
Lily stirred beside him, pulling his jacket tighter around her small frame and looking out the icy windows. Her wide eyes stayed fixed on the snow blanketing the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it away.
“The snow’s really coming down,” she said nervously. “Is it safe to keep driving?”
“No,” Rush said shortly. The tires skidded again, forcing him to adjust. “But stopping isn’t safer.”
He could feel her gaze on him. “Where were you heading?”
“My cabin.” He tipped his head toward the shadowy outline of Autumn Ridge, high up in the mountains looming over them.
“What kind of cabin?”
“Hunting. There’s no heat except a woodstove, no cell service. It’s not exactly your kind of place.” He glanced swiftly again at those long legs with the killer heels. No boots either. They were fucked if they got stuck.
He mentally ran through the emergency supplies he kept in the truck for weather like this. Blankets. Flashlight. Extra rations. First aid kit. He always planned for worst-case scenarios. It was part of his training, and second nature to him, but nothing had prepared him for being snowed in with a runaway bride.
