One
Thea Blackwell wasn’t going to let herself cry.
For one thing, she didn’t have any Kleenex on her.
For another thing, it was so cold that any tears would probably freeze and scratch her eyeballs.
And foranotherother thing, crying wouldn’t make her tire any less flat or the parking lot any less empty or the night any less dark.
“Sh-sh-shit.”
The word shuddered from her rapidly numbing lips as a tremor wracked her body. Two minutes in the frigid February air had been enough to leave her fingers stiff and her skin raw. Why the hell hadn’t she worn her coat to the bar tonight? Peter was right; her vanity reallywouldbe the death of her.
Forcing herself into motion under the halo of the buzzing lights attached to the outside of the bar, she fumbled with her keys and popped open the hatchback on Juniper to shove the big box of radio-station swag inside. Then she hustled to the front and slid into the driver’s seat. There was no point in turning on the ignition; Juniper’s crappy heater took at least ten minutes to produce any noticeable warmth, at which point she’d be tucked into a Lyft and on her way home.
The thought had her reaching for the phone, but when her stiff fingers finally managed to pull up the app, she whimpered. Not a single car was available. And why would they be? It was an hour past last call for the bars in Beaucoeur, which meant all the party people were off the streets for the night. She’d changed out a flat before, but never in pitch-black subzero weather, and the idea held no appeal.
At that moment, the bar lights shut off for the night, plunging her into total darkness.
“Shit!” She thrust aside the thread of fear curling through her chest and shoved her hands under her armpits for warmth as she considered her from-bad-to-worse options. Call Faith, who might not have her phone on silent and would probably come and rescue her. Or call her mom, who absolutelywouldhave hers on silent thanks to Peter’s “no calls after eight p.m.” rule and might not come rescue her even if she did answer. Either way, it would set her up for a lecture on the dangers of improper car maintenance on an older vehicle like Juniper.
Death by frostbite might be preferable. Somebody would find her body when the bar reopened for its Saturday patrons, right? That’s if she didn’t get carried off by a murderer lurking out there in the pitch-black night.
“Shit, shit, shit.” She let her head fall forward, punctuating each word with forehead taps to the steering wheel. She was so screwed.
“Hey there. Need help?”
Thea whipped upright with a short, sharp scream and frantically mashed the flashlight app on her phone to illuminate the source of the voice outside her window. Brandishing her phone with trembling fingers, she inhaled in preparation to shriek her head off, but the sound died in her throat at the sight of the man wincing under the laser-beam light.
“Aiden?”For a moment every muscle in her body froze. Not because of the subzero weather this time but because the hottest guy in Beaucoeur was lifting a hand to shield his eyes from her flashlight.
“Yeah, just making sure everything was okay. You’re the only other car in the lot.”
“Uh, sorry,” she said, swinging the beam away from his face. Forcing the biggest smile possible, she popped open the door and stepped back out into the night. The wind sliced right through her T-shirt and skinny jeans, and her tremors started up again. “Flat tire and no Lyfts available.”
Aiden Murdoch’s brows lifted so far they disappeared under his knit hat. “Also no coats anywhere?”
Another tremor, stronger this time. “D-didn’t wear one. It’s always hot inside the bar.”
Without a word, he unzipped his Murdoch Construction coat and handed it to her. “Here.”
“No, I couldn’t.” But even as she objected, she slid it around her shoulders, wrapping her hands around the collar and burrowing into its warmth.
“Oh please,” Aiden said as he pulled off his hat and plopped it on her head. “Like I’m gonna let you freeze. Come on. I’m parked over there.” He jerked his head to the right, and this time Thea’s smile wasn’t forced.
“My hero!”
Normally she hated trucks that were so far off the ground she had to make a running jump to get inside, but tonight she gratefully heaved herself onto the plush bench seat with all the grace of a whale beaching itself. Aiden managed to climb in far more smoothly, but his legs were almost as long as her whole body, so it’s not like it was a fair comparison.
“So warm,” she moaned, holding the icicles that were her fingers up to the heat blasting from the vent.
“That’s nothing.” Aiden flicked a grin at her and tapped a button on the console.
Almost immediately, her backside started to heat up. She gave a delighted wiggle despite the late hour and the overall crappy circumstances. Heated seats were one of her bucket list items.
Aiden put the car into drive. “Where to?”
“The Mayflower Apartments.” She slid her arms into his coat, which was eleventy sizes too big and swaddled her like a warm cocoon that smelled vaguely of sawdust and coffee. “Thanks. You may literally have saved my life.”
