One Night in the Ice Storm by Noelle Adams Page B

more than walked as she wobbled her way down
the drive.
    She
was moving too fast as she finally approached, and she skidded toward the
passenger side of the truck.
    She
stopped herself abruptly by slamming into it, jarring her body uncomfortably.
    She
slid over to the passenger door and tried to open it, but her hands were almost
numb, since she’d been too distracted to put on gloves, and this door had
always had a tendency to stick anyway.
    She
shivered and pulled and huffed in frustration, trying to pull the door open.
Ice had mostly covered the window, so she couldn’t even see inside very well to
ensure that David was okay.
    Suddenly,
the door was opening, pushed out from inside. She almost toppled over from the
unexpected momentum of the door.
    “What
the hell are you doing ?” a male voice demanded from inside. David had
leaned over to open the passenger door, and he was now glaring at her. “You’re
going to break your ankle or freeze to death out here.”
    Rachel
gasped in indignation as she tried to catch herself from falling by clinging to
the seat of the truck. She managed to pull herself back to a stable position. “I
thought you were hurt. You didn’t come in. What are you just sitting out here
for?”
    The
sight of David’s familiar face—well-sculpted features, dark eyes, five-o’clock
shadow, short brown hair—made her stomach twist in pain. Every time she saw
him, he looked more mature and even more handsome. Her instinctive attraction
compounded her annoyance with his tone, when she’d gone way out of her way to
help him.
    “I
was talking to your brother. I didn’t even know you were at the house until he
told me.” David showed her his smartphone, with which he’d obviously just hung
up with Brad. “Get in the truck before you catch pneumonia.”
    “I’m
not going to get in the truck,” she snapped back. “You’re never going to get it
out of the ditch in this weather, and if you do, you’ll just end up back in the
ditch farther down the driveway. You’ll have to leave your precious truck and
walk back to the house like a sane person.” Her voice was loud by necessity, to
be heard over the wind whipping through her loose blond hair and damp clothes.
    Her
voice might have been a little louder than it needed to be.
    He
rolled his eyes, impatient either at her tone or at the situation, but he dug
into the pockets of his coat and pulled out wool-lined, leather gloves. “Here,”
he said, thrusting them at her. “Wear these. Why the hell did you leave the
house without gloves?”
    Rachel’s
fingers were a scary red color now and so cold she could barely feel them. But
she wasn’t going to put up with that kind of treatment.
    Especially
not from him.
    David
had fucked her and dumped her when she was seventeen, and she hadn’t been smart
or mature enough to keep it from happening. But she was an adult now, and he wasn’t
going to lecture her like a foolish little girl.
    She’d
actually come out here in the ice to help the asshole.
    Instead
of giving him the rude retort that sprang to her lips, she said coolly, “Since
you obviously don’t need my help, you can get back to the house on your own or
freeze to death with your truck, whichever you’d prefer.”
    Then
she slammed the passenger door, a motion that jarred her hands painfully, and
started walking—slipping—back to the house.
    To
her horror, she was almost in tears. Because it was such a small town and he
was still her brother’s best friend, she still ran into David frequently—whenever
she came to visit her family, which averaged about once a month. She was
usually able to act as though he didn’t exist or else respond to him with
disinterested civility.
    This
direct confrontation, however—on top of the effort and discomfort of the trek
through the sleet—brought all of her old hurt and anger to the surface.
    Her
brother was right. She should be over this by now. David shouldn’t still mean
so much to her. She