No signal. Of course there isn’t one.
I stare out at the wall of snow surrounding me.
No passing cars. No lights. No anything.
Panic claws higher into my throat. Okay. It’s fine. People get stranded all the time in the mountain and live to tell the tale, right?
A sharp knock suddenly sounds against the driver’s side window. I shriek loud enough to embarrass myself spiritually.
A tall shadow stands outside the SUV, broad shoulders barely visible through the storm beneath the brim of a dark hat.
My pulse pounds as the figure reaches for the door handle. Then the light flickers on the second the door swings open.
And my stomach pitches.
Nearly black eyes. Rugged jaw. Beads of water dripping from his dark hair and whiskers.
My heart hitches. It’s Terrible Troy Taylor.
The question is whether he’s here to help or put me in greater danger than ever.
TWO
TROY
I take in the full scene in the blink of an eye.
The first thing I notice, obviously, is the car.
The second is the ditch it’s teetering over.
And the third is the woman behind the wheel looking like she’s two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.
I mutter a curse under my breath and tighten my grip on the steering wheel as snow lashes across the windshield.
Fuck.
Most people around Swift Mountain have enough sense to stay off Black Bear Ridge during a storm like this.
Apparently not the town librarian/postmaster.
Even through the blowing snow, I recognize the little blue SUV. I’ve seen it parked outside the library often enough while I’m grabbing supplies in town.
The woman inside wears one of those knit hats with the giant pom-pom on top. It’s soaked through now, dark curls spilling around her shoulders as she grips the steering wheel hard enough to make her knuckles white.
Fear flashes across her face when my headlights hit the vehicle.
People are always afraid of me at first.
I kill the engine and climb out into the storm.
Snow immediately soaks through my jacket while the wind whips hard enough to sting my face. By the time I reach the SUV, I can already tell she’s shaking.
Not good. I knock once against the window.
The woman shrieks.
I blink.
