But…not quite.
Okay, not at all.
This guy was about six four, lean but muscular, with a square chiseled jaw and stunning blue eyes. He looked like an athlete. No paunch whatsoever. And he was younger than I was—midthirties, I guessed.
I had a feeling I was still right about the West Coast part, though.
“Hi there, I’m Cooper. I live next door. I heard your car struggling and thought I’d stop by to introduce myself and offer some help…if you need it.” I pointed at the tires firmly imbedded in the snow. “And you do.”
“Yeah…I do.” He sighed, blowing out a stream of frustrated air as he pivoted, his hand outstretched. “Silas. Nice to meet you.”
The handshake was brief but sort of intense. Silas’s grip was firm and rough, like a logger’s. He was too slick-looking to be one of us—too fancy. But he definitely wasn’t a desk jockey.
Yep, still curious.
“If you’re trying to get out, you’re going to need to do some digging first. Got a shovel?”
“Um…” Silas swiped at falling snowflakes as he glanced toward the house. “There might be one in the garage, but I don’t want to impose.”
“I’m happy to help. Check to see if you’ve got a second shovel. If not, I’ll get one from home.”
He seemed ready to argue, but another peek at his trapped tires changed his mind. Silas strode to the house, fumbled with the lock, and disappeared inside. The garage door slid open and a short search yielded two brand-new, never-been-used shovels hooked on a peg against a wall.
I wordlessly grabbed one and tackled the rear wheels while Silas took the front.
He gave a self-deprecating half laugh, stabbing at the snow with a grunt. “I wish I’d put the car in the garage last night.”
“Rookie move,” I agreed.
“Bingo.” Silas shot a playful dirty look my way and continued working.
“Where are you from?” I asked, shoveling under the carriage.
“LA. Well, the Bay Area originally, but LA for the past ten years.”
Called it.
“Big move from Los Angeles to Wood Hollow.”
“This is—I’m not moving here.” He motioned to the beautiful modern-style log cabin behind him, shaking his head. “The place belongs to a buddy of mine. I’m in town for a week, maybe less. Got in last night, and the roads were totally clear. Then…I woke up to this. No wonder the rental agent was trying to sell me on the SUV.”
I moved to the other side of the car. “It’s not coming down too hard now, but we’re supposed to get another nine to twelve inches.”
“That’s what she said,” he muttered.
I snort-laughed. “If you got errands to run, I’d do it now, funny guy.”
Silas skirted the hood and took aim at the front tire, his head bent in concentration. “I was going to check out Main Street and get some groceries. I read somewhere that the coffee shop in town is amazing.”
“Yep. You’re gonna need chains, though.” I finished at my end, then gestured for him to step aside. My Good Samaritan deed of the day was cutting into my morning, and I really had to get to the office.
Silas straightened and leaned on the handle of the shovel. “Chains?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Isn’t Main Street like five blocks from here?” He scratched his head, his features sharp with comical desperation.
My gaze lingered on the hint of gold on his stubbled jaw and the thin scar at the top right corner of his full lips. Silas was a handsome man. Very handsome. The stylish haircut, Canada Goose jacket, designer boots, and Rolex on his wrist contrasted with the callouses and the bruising near his slightly crooked nose.
