Page 4 of Fake Out Forever

“Two.” I shoot her a wink. “Thanks for your help. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too!” She dances off to the front of the store.

Feeling somewhat relaxed from the moment I walked into the store and infused with a tiny bit of the Christmas spirit, I finish up my shopping and head to Hank’s General Store to keep my word.

With two trees tied to the roof of my car, a back seat full of Christmas decorations and a rear compartment loaded to the gills with groceries, firewood and liquor, I’m finally on the way to my cabin. While I was shopping, Mother Nature has seen fit to drop a full foot of snow. Thankfully, I’m almost home.

While trying to decide between ribeye for dinner and my favorite frozen macaroni and cheese, I turn the wipers on high. The snow is coming down faster and heavier, making it harder to see as dusk settles over the mountains. Up ahead, there’s something big and dark on the side of the road. I slow down to a crawl, praying it isn’t a wounded elk or a moose. I inch forward and have to blink a few times to unscramble my brain.

Impossible.

I’m staring at the tail end of a black car half-buried in a snowbank. But it isn’t any black car. It’s a black BMW, and crouched down beside it, trying to dig out the tires with her hands, is none other than the woman I never wanted to lay eyes on again…Maya Prescott.

I think about driving right past her.

But I don’t.

I hit the brakes, grip the wheel, put on my flashers and reach over to open the passenger’s door. frigid blast of icy air smacks me in the face.

“Get in,” I holler into the wind.

As the snow swirls around her, she shoots me a murderous look. “No,” she snaps, pulling her hood up over her curls. I’ve called for a tow truck. I have AA A.”

“Explains why you’re trying to dig your tires out.” I roll my eyes. “Get. In.”

“I am fine. Thank you very much. It’s only a three-hour wait.”

“Three hours? You think you’re gonna sit on the side of the road in a full-on blizzard to wait for a tow? Ridiculous. My cabin’s not far. You can wait there.”

“I’d rather wait here. Thank you very much.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten. This woman is on my last damn nerve. I’ve started off the day learning my hockey career is over. Spent over four hours driving in a snowstorm. My brand spanking new Land Rover was hit by the Ice Princess. And all I want to do is unpack, pour myself a nice stiff drink, eat a good meal, and go to sleep in a warm bed.

I don’t have time, and I don’t want to argue with a woman who is obviously more stubborn than a mule.

“Here’s how this is going, Ms. Prescott,” I say through clenched teeth. “I am not leaving you here. So, you have a choice to make. You either get into this car on your own, or I’m going to put you in it. Decide.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she huffs.

“Try me.”

Cursing under her breath, Maya stomps through the snow and plunks herself down on my front seat. “You’re rude,” she says, slamming the door shut.

“You’re welcome.” I snarl.

4

MAYA

As we make our way up the mountain, I have to fight to keep my teeth from chattering. Even though Cade the Crude has cranked up the heat, the bitter cold has seeped into my bones.

Every part of me is shaking.

The truth is that it has nothing to do with almost freezing to death in the storm and everything to do with being mere feet away from Cade.

He smells divine.

Looks even better.

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