“Well, you and Anker are out of luck because I won’t do it.”
Won’t do it? Is it that awful to sit across the table from me and have a meal? Am I that distasteful to you?
She could kick Roxanne. Ceci never would have brought it up to him, let alone agreed to the deal, if she hadn’t thought he’d agreed to it first.
She crossed her arms. “Fine,” she spat.
“Damn right, fine,” he growled as he put the car in gear and they took off.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
Where are we going?
She would have asked but she was too angry. They’d already been driving for nearly an hour, and the town of Cornhole was just up ahead. It was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of place. It consisted of a diner, a gas station, fire station, small grocery market, an Elks club and one sorry-looking dress shop.
The nearest town beyond Cornhole was at least two hours away. And while it had more going on than Cornhole, that wasn’t saying much.
What is he thinking we’ll do there?
She sighed as they approached the itty-bitty town with that dramatic backdrop of the snowcapped mountains, which seemed close enough to touch. The town was still sporting the Christmas vibe—a garland strung over the main road, with lanterns and bells, swaying in the wind. A big banner readMontana Snowpocalypse: Freeze, Fleece, and Fun!
Barriers had been set up. Snowpocalypse was in full swing—vendors selling food and items made by local artists, as well as carnival games, lined the street. Further down, she could see some people carving sculptures out of ice.
She sighed. If it hadn’t been for Sir Stick Up His Ass, she and Pixel could be going to the festival.
“We can’t go down this street,” she said. “There’s a festival, but I can direct you to a way around it. Take a right here.”
He did.
“Okay, now take this left up ahead.”
He didn’t.
“What are you doing? Why didn’t you turn? Now you’re going to have to flip a bitch.”
“Pardon me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Make a U-turn.”
He didn’t. Instead, he pulled into a public parking lot that had been set up for the festival, and parked the truck.
“Wait. What—why are you parking here?”
He opened the door and already had one leg out. “I should have thought it obvious.”
Her eyes opened wide, her mouth even wider.
No! It can’t be!
This is the date?
The Montana Snowpocalypse?
Sir Stick Up His Ass at the Montana Snowpocalypse?
Not. Possible.
Chapter Eleven
