for help."
If I squinted, I could probably make out all the tiny little glares of light from tiny little screens in all the parked and/or slewed and broken cars on the icy freeway. I'd done it, reached out to family and friends, to anyone who might have a suggestion.
"Because let's face it, the authorities are not getting this sorted out very fast." He glared up at the sky. "There's more coming. Grab your stuff and let's go."
I balked. He'd been Sunny approved, which meant he was a good guy. He knew my name and he knew Sunny and some details about her and our friendship. He was the kind of gorgeous that made my breath come short, and I liked the hopeful tingle I felt whenever he looked at me. But the dictatorial Grab your stuff and let's go ? I've never been one of the caveman type.
… then again, I hated snow. More was coming.
I had nowhere else to go.
I started to get out of the car. The film of ice on the door cracked and it opened about an inch. My rescuer pushed the door back closed. I stared at him.
"See if you can ease it over to the shoulder. You can't just leave it sitting there."
It was a rental. Other than the fact that I'd have to pay for it, I kind of could. I started the car, which caused the seatbelt to bong at me, and put it into drive. It moved okay, sliding a little and I hate that feeling; it's the loss of control coupled with a sort of instant nausea. But the car allowed itself to be eased over onto the shoulder and the minute I put up the window and turned it off, Rick Barnes opened the door for me.
Still irritated, I took a haughty step out, ruined the next instant by the fact that I slipped and staggered to catch my balance against the window and door frame. He didn't say anything but I got the impression Rick both knew I was feeling bitchy and was amused by the results. He had the common sense not to comment. Apparently he might quote unknown movies at unsuspecting stranded female motorists, but would not push his luck to the very brink.
I held the key aloft, used the fob to open the trunk, carefully picked my way around in the snow. Atlanta's embarrassment over the first Snow Jam reported in national media had been in part because the accumulated snow had been something like two inches. That had been enough to bring the city to its knees.
Out here, north of the city and headed for Hanlin, I could now see that there was quite a bit more snow covering the ground. I loathed all of it, but at least it justified my paranoia and all the stalled cars.
Out of the trunk I pulled my laptop in a messenger bag, my carry-on and a purse that had been tucked into the carry-on during the flight. I took a quick look around the trunk, but I knew I wasn't leaving anything behind.
I was stalling. Because he was so attractive, and because he was a stranger, and I'm not overly good with strangers. I'm shy. I'm not good with attractive men, either. I tend to slip in the snow and take offense at the slightest little things. Then again, I also get tongue tied in the presence of pretty, which annoys me and makes me bitchy.
"Need a hand?"
Of course he'd followed me around the car. And of course he'd found me standing there staring at the now-empty trunk.
"Thanks," I said. "Just thinking. I'm supposed to be in Hanlin by tomorrow afternoon."
He glanced at the sky, either asking for divine patience or assessing the weather. "You should be able to do that. Forecast says it will be cloudy tonight, so warmer than it is now, and the snow's supposed to stop by midnight. Tomorrow should be mostly sunny and warmer. Nothing's gonna stick for long."
He looked away from the sky at me. I must have had my mouth open, staring. I closed it, then said, "What are you, a weatherman?" Not the best way to get myself rescued, and not the proper appreciation, but still.
"Interested spectator. Can I carry that?" He was gesturing to my carry-on.
"Thanks." I scanned the trunk one last time. Empty. Time to go. Now that I was being
If I squinted, I could probably make out all the tiny little glares of light from tiny little screens in all the parked and/or slewed and broken cars on the icy freeway. I'd done it, reached out to family and friends, to anyone who might have a suggestion.
"Because let's face it, the authorities are not getting this sorted out very fast." He glared up at the sky. "There's more coming. Grab your stuff and let's go."
I balked. He'd been Sunny approved, which meant he was a good guy. He knew my name and he knew Sunny and some details about her and our friendship. He was the kind of gorgeous that made my breath come short, and I liked the hopeful tingle I felt whenever he looked at me. But the dictatorial Grab your stuff and let's go ? I've never been one of the caveman type.
… then again, I hated snow. More was coming.
I had nowhere else to go.
I started to get out of the car. The film of ice on the door cracked and it opened about an inch. My rescuer pushed the door back closed. I stared at him.
"See if you can ease it over to the shoulder. You can't just leave it sitting there."
It was a rental. Other than the fact that I'd have to pay for it, I kind of could. I started the car, which caused the seatbelt to bong at me, and put it into drive. It moved okay, sliding a little and I hate that feeling; it's the loss of control coupled with a sort of instant nausea. But the car allowed itself to be eased over onto the shoulder and the minute I put up the window and turned it off, Rick Barnes opened the door for me.
Still irritated, I took a haughty step out, ruined the next instant by the fact that I slipped and staggered to catch my balance against the window and door frame. He didn't say anything but I got the impression Rick both knew I was feeling bitchy and was amused by the results. He had the common sense not to comment. Apparently he might quote unknown movies at unsuspecting stranded female motorists, but would not push his luck to the very brink.
I held the key aloft, used the fob to open the trunk, carefully picked my way around in the snow. Atlanta's embarrassment over the first Snow Jam reported in national media had been in part because the accumulated snow had been something like two inches. That had been enough to bring the city to its knees.
Out here, north of the city and headed for Hanlin, I could now see that there was quite a bit more snow covering the ground. I loathed all of it, but at least it justified my paranoia and all the stalled cars.
Out of the trunk I pulled my laptop in a messenger bag, my carry-on and a purse that had been tucked into the carry-on during the flight. I took a quick look around the trunk, but I knew I wasn't leaving anything behind.
I was stalling. Because he was so attractive, and because he was a stranger, and I'm not overly good with strangers. I'm shy. I'm not good with attractive men, either. I tend to slip in the snow and take offense at the slightest little things. Then again, I also get tongue tied in the presence of pretty, which annoys me and makes me bitchy.
"Need a hand?"
Of course he'd followed me around the car. And of course he'd found me standing there staring at the now-empty trunk.
"Thanks," I said. "Just thinking. I'm supposed to be in Hanlin by tomorrow afternoon."
He glanced at the sky, either asking for divine patience or assessing the weather. "You should be able to do that. Forecast says it will be cloudy tonight, so warmer than it is now, and the snow's supposed to stop by midnight. Tomorrow should be mostly sunny and warmer. Nothing's gonna stick for long."
He looked away from the sky at me. I must have had my mouth open, staring. I closed it, then said, "What are you, a weatherman?" Not the best way to get myself rescued, and not the proper appreciation, but still.
"Interested spectator. Can I carry that?" He was gesturing to my carry-on.
"Thanks." I scanned the trunk one last time. Empty. Time to go. Now that I was being
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