Page 34 of Only Be Mine

John grinned and turned it up.

“Oh yes.”

He sang “Toxic” at the top of his lungs, off-key, dramatic and terrible, pounding the steering wheel like he was headlining a stadium tour.

“Why do you know all the words?”

He glanced at me, daring to take one hand off the wheel long enough to run his finger down my lips. I swatted his hand away and rolled my eyes.

I laughed so hard I nearly choked. “You’re going to cause an accident.”

“Worth it.”

When that song ended and another came on, John gave up the performance in favor of driving.

“So… Brittany Spears?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? She was hot.”

A little zing rolled through me, my insecurity peeking her cruel head out for the first time in a while. “Was?” I asked, glancing down at my average brown locks.

He looked at me and winked. “Definitely was.”

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. “I’ve only got eyes for one woman now.”

Butterflies took flight in my belly and I had to change the subject.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my knees tucked up against the dashboard.

Snowflakes swirled thicker around us, the road turning white and winding.

He smiled, eyes never leaving the road. “Somewhere.”

I laughed. “That’s not helpful.”

“That’s intentional.”

The snow started coming down harder somewhere past the foothills. Soft at first, then thick and blinding, flakes slanting sideways across the windshield.

I turned down the radio as John’s grip tightened on the wheel.

“Okay…,” he said. “Maybe we should find a place to stop.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat. “Yeah.”

I watched out the window, looking for a place we could pull off and stop for a while - a restaurant or bar…

A sign ahead loomed through the white, Welcome to Silverpine.

Neither of us had ever heard of it.

Ten minutes later, we were pulling into a cozy mountain town that looked like it had been pulled straight from a postcard, complete with twinkling lights, snow-dusted rooftops, and warm golden windows glowing against the dark.

“Well,” I said. “Guess this is somewhere.”

The only hotel with a vacancy was a ski lodge tucked against a row of evergreens. Inside smelled like pine and firewood and something sweet baking in the kitchen.

The clerk slid a key across the counter. “Last room.”