Page 329 of Steamy Ever After

My hopes for establishing a sustainable practice in Redlands died when one punch to my face became one too many.

I glance at the back seat to check on the Boston fern. The houseplant is the only thing Scott let me take. He thinks I’m throwing a hissy fit and will come crawling back to him. That I’m testing him.

But I’m not.

I took the fern, and by hell or high water, I’ll transport the darn thing all the way up the coast. Not because the plant means anything to me, but because Scott wouldn’t let me take anything else.

My entire life is condensed into three suitcases, a potted plant, and… Holy crap!

A moose!

My scream shatters the silence. Stomping on the brakes, I wrench the steering wheel hard to the right.

The massive animal stands placidly in the middle of the road—watching me—breathing out—whereas my pulse thunders in my ears and my stomach leaps to my throat.

The tires slide over the ice. Counter-steering, I point the car back in the direction I want to go. I’ve read that’s what you’re supposed to do, but it doesn’t work. My Jeep slides into a spin.

Coming full circle, the moose and I trade stares again. It snorts, blowing out twin plumes of steam from its nostrils, while the Jeep launches off the road.

I plow straight into a ditch.

A loud bang sounds. Something slams into my face. A fine, white powder coats the inside of the car, making me cough and gasp for air.

The airbag deployed, saving my life, but damn does it hurt. My heart hammers and the ragged pull of my breaths scrapes in my ears.

“No, no, no!”

This can’t be happening.

And what’s up with moose on the loose?

What’s next? Lions, tigers, and bears?

More likely, I’ll find mountain lions, wolves, and bears.

Outside, snow piles up on the hood of my car.

I punch the airbag out of the way. The bridge of my nose hurts. My cheekbones are tender. My eyes sting. My lids drag against the grit from the powder. I go into damage control.

Okay, what hurts?

No pain in my ribs. My shoulder hurts from the seatbelt, but nothing seems to be broken. I wiggle my toes and move my legs.

No pain there.

Where’s my phone? It was in the drink holder a second ago.

I search while the outside temperature steals my precious heat. Staying put might seem wise, but what if no help ever comes?

There hasn’t been another vehicle on the road for miles. Even in the daylight, will anyone see my Jeep? Or will the snow cover it, encasing me in a chilly grave?

I flip on the emergency flashers.

My phone?

There, on the passenger floorboard. I grab it and stab at the screen.

No reception.

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