Page 34 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“Can you even see the road anymore?” My voice was steady, but I was starting to think we needed to pull off on the shoulder. These were whiteout conditions—and as someone who lived in the mountains, I wasn’t stupid enough to take risks.

“I’m fine,” Grace retorted, but her tone had lost some of its bite. She was squinting now, trying to make out the path through the thick swirls of snow.

A crackle from the radio broke through the silence, and a stern voice announced a storm warning for our area, advising all residents to seek immediate shelter.

Great, just what we needed.

“My cabin’s not far from here,” I said. “We could ride out the storm there.”

“We’re fine, Clay, I need to get back to Mariah?—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence.

The truck lurched suddenly, a patch of ice hidden beneath the fresh powder. Grace's reflexes were good—she steered into the skid, kept us from spinning—but the relief was short-lived. I felt the tires lose grip again, this time more insistently.

“Shit!”

“Easy...easy...” I murmured, though whether it was for her benefit or mine, I wasn't sure.

But the slide didn't stop. We were going downhill, gravity pulling us faster than the tires could find traction. The world outside was a blur of white, the horizon lost somewhere beyond the storm.

At this rate, we would slide right into town…or off a cliff.

I had no way of knowing which one.

SIXTEEN

Grace

The world went sideways.

Tires squealed a protest against the slick asphalt as I fought with the steering wheel, my heart hammering a frantic beat in my chest. The car careened down the hill, snow and gravel kicking up a storm around us.

We were going to die.

We were going to die like this, all because I wanted to go for a joy ride…

…and then we skidded to a stop.

Safe.

A hand grabbed my shoulder. “Grace, you okay?”

I blinked hard, reality snapping back into focus. Clay's blue eyes were fixed on me, wide with concern, not even a hint of his usual frostiness. “Yeah,” I gasped. “God, I'm sorry, Clay. That was too close?—”

“Hey.” His grip tightened, just a fraction. “Not your fault. This weather's a beast. But listen…my cabin's just around that bend. We need to get there before this storm gets any worse. I know you wanted to get home, but?—”

“Okay.” My words came out in a shaky exhale. Trusting him was my only option.

So I put the car into gear, focusing on the winding path ahead.

The snow fell thicker now, a relentless veil of white that threatened to swallow us whole. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, my hands clenching so tight they were almost numb.

“Nice and easy,” he muttered from beside me, and I realized then that his calm was just as strained as my attempt at control.

“Doing my best here,” I shot back.

We rounded the final curve and a cabin appeared, blurry in the snow. Its windows glowed a welcoming orange, like lanterns in the fog. A big dog, the one that had nearly given me a heart attack in the woods, barked at our arrival, jumping in the window.

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