All Joe’s attention focused on the road to follow its myriad twists and turns in the dreadful conditions. The gathering snow had long since obscured the yellow lines, and he slowed the Jeep to a crawl—to make sure he stayed on the road, he muttered.
Despite the chains, the tires slipped again and again as they struggled for purchase on the pavement. She kept silent, determined not to distract him, but when a fierce gust made the Jeep skid as they went around a tight curve, she couldn’t suppress a gasp. The Jeep’s wheels slipped and slid before he finally regained control of the vehicle. After he slowed to a shuddering halt, he looked at her.
“You okay?”
No
.
She took a deep breath.
Stop being such a wimp.
She nodded. “Is it safe for us to keep driving in this?”
“Probably not,” he said as he eased his foot off the brake and switched to the gas.
The terse words made her stomach tighten. She shot a look at his profile. His eyes focused intently on the road, his mouth a hard line. His calm kept her from a full-blown panic.
The wheels spun, grabbed traction for a second, and then spun again. The Jeep jolted and rocked, but went nowhere. Over the whine of the overtaxed engine, she could hear the tires spin.
“Dammit,” Joe grumbled.
He put the Jeep in park and got out, letting in a blast of frigid air. She lost sight of him in the swirling whiteness almost instantly. Although she knew he wouldn’t go far, the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease until the door opened once again and his disheveled, damp head poked back in. He waved her to move to the driver’s seat.
“We’re stuck. I’ve gotta push. You steer.”
She clambered over the gear shift to take the wheel. With the window open so that she could hear his shouted instructions, she inched the car first backward and then forward. She heard it before she felt it—a change in the sound of the spinning tires that signaled traction. As the vehicle began a slow roll, he appeared at her side. She scooted back to the passenger seat as he hopped into the moving vehicle and slammed the door behind him.
“We’ve got to get off the road.”
“Up here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We can always huddle up in the car if we can’t find a place, but we’re asking for trouble if we keep driving in this. Keep an eye out for turnoffs.” His tone didn’t encourage argument, and she didn’t give him any. The thought of ending up stuck again terrified her. “The lakeshore isn’t too far north, if my guess is right. We might be able to find a summer cabin or something—keep looking off to the right.”
After a few minutes, her eyes burned from peering past the wipers into the white gloom. The task seemed hopeless. She could see no farther than a foot or two past the front of the car. Gusts of wind driving waves of snow sometimes obscured even that view. Occasionally, an outcropping of rock or a cluster of pines broke through, but only for a second. Then something caught her eye. She stared hard, trying to make it out.
A mailbox!
“Look!” She pointed to the post, next to a narrow driveway nearly hidden by the falling snow. They turned into the driveway, the Jeep bucking in the ruts beneath the snow. Farther up the narrow drive, the towering pines close on both sides shielded them from the worst of the snow and wind. After a short distance, the snow grew much deeper. No one had plowed here since the beginning of snow season.
Joe pulled to a stop. “We’re on foot from here.”
Ivy gathered both of her bags and her laptop, but Joe stopped her. “Just take one bag, the most critical one. If we need to, we can come back for the rest later. It’s going to be a tough slog.”
Almost immediately, the cold exacted a toll. Ivy’s loafers couldn’t stand up to the deep snow. Before long, snow clung to her chinos up to her knees. The skin of her calves and ankles burned with cold beneath her skimpy trouser socks. She squinted to keep the stinging flakes out of her eyes. At first, the cold cut deep. After a few minutes, the agony faded into wooden numbness.
“You okay?” Joe shot her an assessing look as he trudged alongside her in the snow.
“They were hurting, but now I can’t feel my feet anymore. That’s a good thing at this point.”
“No, it’s not. We’d better get you inside and get you dried off before you get frostbite.”
She didn’t respond, saving her breath for hiking. About a half a mile down the road, the road rose over a bluff. At the top of the rise, Ivy braced her hands on her knees, puffing with exhaustion. Her twice-a-week Pilates classes back in Chicago hadn’t prepared her for wading through heavy snow that turned every step into a struggle.
“Thank Jesus,” Joe muttered. Ivy whipped her head up and followed Joe’s pointing finger to a small cabin in the distance.
“Do you think anyone is home?” Ivy asked as they drew near. Heavy wooden shutters covered the windows. If a sidewalk existed under all that snow, it hadn’t been shoveled.
“We’ll see. No tracks in the snow—that’s a good sign. Must be somebody’s summer cabin. Pretty rough. Probably not the kind of place anyone lives in year-round.”
“What will we do if no one’s home?” she asked as they waded through the drifts to the front door.
“We’ll find a way in.”
She stood shivering on the front porch as he knocked, waited a minute, and then knocked again, thunderously. If anyone was inside, they’d have to be deaf or dead not to hear it. No one answered.
“Wait here.”
Too tired to question him, she waited while he went back down the steps, circled the building, examined windows. He disappeared behind the cabin for a few minutes and then returned. “Looks like we’re going in the front door.”
Her eyes widened as he pulled a credit card out of his wallet and grabbed the doorknob.
Ivy stared. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
He wriggled the knob, wedging the credit card in the crack of the door. He lifted, eased the card back and forth, and lowered the knob, until with a click, the lock finally gave way.
“Coming?” He shot her a questioning look over his shoulder as he stepped inside.
“I’ll just wait out here until I hear the shotgun blast.”
He shot a glance over his shoulder. “Are you fearing one or hoping for one?”
“I’d say something witty, but I’m too cold to think of anything.”
“Poor thing. We’ll get you warmed up soon.” He gazed around. “Hello? Anyone in here?” Joe called.
He disappeared inside, and Ivy shot a nervous look back up the road. If an irate homeowner caught them and they had to make a run for it, how would she get through the deep snow on her numb, soaking feet? She wouldn’t. She would have to beg for mercy. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. After a minute, Joe returned.
“Coast is clear. Looks like nobody lives here in the winter. No clothes in the closets, and the fridge is unplugged.”
When she hesitated, Joe gestured, impatient. “What are you waiting for, an omen? Come on!”
The agonizing cold made the decision for her. She hurried inside and closed the door behind them. The plainly furnished room contained a kitchenette, sofa, and TV. Moving to the back, she saw a small bedroom and bathroom. Joe was right. It appeared to be uninhabited. The countertops in the kitchen were empty, and the bathroom, bare of toiletries, suggested no one lived here full-time.
“Probably a summer home,” Joe guessed. “There’s a boat shelter in the back with a couple of canoes. I’m guessing the lake isn’t too far from here.” He bent to examine the fireplace. The flue opened with a resisting squeal. “I’ll try to get a fire going. Why don’t you get undressed while I get the firewood?”
“Excuse me?” Her head swiveled to stare at him.
“You need to get out of your wet pants and shoes. I saw some blankets in the bedroom closet you can use to wrap up.” As he headed out the door, he paused. “Or forget the blankets, if you want. I’m easy,” he said with a grin.
She stared at the door after he left. For a minute there, she had almost thought Joe Dunham was flirting with her. She’d better get into dry clothes ASAP. Obviously she was on the verge of hypothermia, because she hadn’t even minded.
Chapter 6
“That was the most delicious canned soup I’ve ever had, hands down,” Joe said, scraping his spoon to get the last few drops.
Ivy concurred as she put her empty bowl on an end table and leaned back.
“Nothing like thinking you might starve to death to make any meal seem like a feast.”
The house ran on propane. Joe found only a small tank in the boat port, so they had decided to go without central heat and lights to save the propane for cooking and hot water. No matter. The roaring logs in the fire threw off plenty of heat and light in the deepening gloom of imminent nightfall. They would sleep in the living room instead of the bed—warmth took precedence over a soft mattress.
Ivy sat wrapped in a blanket she’d gotten from a plastic tub in the bedroom closet as Joe got up to put another log on the fire. The stack of firewood on the porch ensured they could keep the blaze as high as they wanted without fear of running out tonight. With nightfall, the temperatures had dropped dramatically and the snow still fell, but the fireplace created a warm oasis in the chilly cabin.
After he tended to the fire, Joe sat next to her, leaning back against the cushion. Part of her blanket somehow ended up on his lap. She should probably object to the intimacy, but somnolent and warm, she let it slide.
In the silence broken only by the crackling of the fire, the possibilities of their situation gradually became evident to Ivy. Was he feeling it too? She remembered the tension that had hung thick in the hotel room when he’d fastened her dress, and the odd look on his face later when he’d asked her if she’d ever wanted the wrong man.
If she didn’t know how much he disliked her, she would suspect he might hit on her. If he did, she would reject him, of course. No matter how strong and capable he might be in a crisis, he wasn’t her type. She didn’t have one-night stands, and she suspected he probably had little else.
They were so wrong for each other—why even waste time thinking about him? Still, drowning pleasantly in the warmth of the cabin and the hard beauty of his male profile, she had no particular desire to be anywhere else at the moment. Until, that is, she had a thought that filled her with anxiety.
“You don’t think Pock and Daisy are stranded too, do you?”
Joe shook his head. The firelight played across his face, casting a golden glow that softened his harsher angles. “They had several hours’ head start on us. They probably got through before the storm got this bad.”
“That’s good.” She relaxed, pulling the blanket tighter around her. She had a thought. “On the other hand, that could mean they’re married right now.” She looked at Joe, hoping he’d tell her she was probably wrong.
He didn’t. “Would that be so terrible?” he asked her quietly. “For your sister to be with a guy nobody approves of?”
Something in Joe’s voice gave Ivy the feeling they weren’t talking solely about her sister any longer. Her heart started a slow thud. Surely he wasn’t trying to drop some kind of hint about
them
, was he? She lifted one shoulder in a silent shrug. “I don’t know. I mean, I’d rather she be married to Pock than stranded in the snow, that’s for sure.”
“Like we are, you mean?” he asked. She shot a glance at his profile, which had gone still and unexpressive. “I didn’t know this was such an ordeal for you, to be stuck with me.”
She frowned. He almost sounded hurt, but that couldn’t be. Guys like Joe Dunham didn’t get their feelings hurt, at least not by girls like her—prim, reserved girls they didn’t even like. He thoroughly disapproved of her—he thought her meddlesome and judgmental.
“Why should you be offended that I don’t want to be stranded with you? I’m sure you would have chosen to be stuck here with someone other than me if it was up to you.” Inexplicably, the friendly concierge at the Bellisimo with the fake hair, tan, and teeth came to mind. Guys like Joe—the players, the cool guys—always went for girls like that. Yes, the concierge was more Joe’s type, she thought with a pang she didn’t want to examine too closely. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. Why do you take everything I say the wrong way?” she asked. “I don’t want Daisy to be in physical danger, stuck out in this snowstorm! That doesn’t mean I want her to marry someone who is so wrong for her.”
Joe rose, flipping the blanket off his lap as he did so. “Fine. I’m not having this argument again with you. As long as your dad’s check clears, and I’m sure it will, I’m happy.”
“You’re only in this for a paycheck. I’m here to help my sister. Please remember that,” she answered sharply, and instantly regretted it. She hadn’t meant to imply he was nothing more than a hired hand, but sometimes he could be so damned irritating that her tongue got a few paces ahead of her brain. She had never experienced anything like it. She
never
let her emotions get away from her. She disliked his ability to slide past her defenses and stir her usually placid temper.
“Fine.” He strode to the bedroom, and then came back after a moment.
He turned on his heel and paced. They were trapped together. He couldn’t flee and the cabin wasn’t big enough—or warm enough—to allow them to create any physical distance from each other.