Page 35 of The Christmas Romance Wish

With the radio low, the only sound is the wind and my intermittent hiccups.

He’s going less than ten miles an hour when awhoomphsound comes from somewhere above. The Jeep shakes as Alex carefully applies the brake so we don’t slide. A rumble like thunder approaches across the mountains, but it’s different from the kind that comes with lightning.

Alex’s gaze focuses and he remains in control.

I’m afraid to ask what’s going on. My stomach knots and my throat goes dry as a wall of snow spills across the road ahead of us.

“Well, this is a real soup sandwich,” he murmurs.

“Do you mean a snow sandwich?” My voice shakes.

Exhaling, he says, “I mean an avalanche.”

“An avalanche?” I repeat around another hiccup.

“Usually, the highway department triggers controlled slides on backcountry roads like this to prevent this from happening.”

I incline my head, not sure I heard correctly. “You’re telling me we’re stuck in an avalanche?”

“Stuck is a relative term. It just missed us. Had I been going faster...” He throws the Jeep in reverse and slowly backs away from the wall of snow.

I’m thinking it’s more of a cataclysmic catastrophe, but I’m hoping it’s a big misunderstanding.

Emmie

CHAPTER 10

Alex stops the Jeep on a turnout for slow-moving tractor-trailers and with a scenic overlook I recall from our ride up this way the other day.

Toggling a few dials on the Jeep, he says, “We should be good until the plows can get up here.”

“You think a plow truck can move all that snow?”

“It’s not as much as you think. Probably.”

“It sounded like a lot.”

“I’m guessing only a few feet scattered across the road, but I don’t want to take any risks.” Alex checks his phone. “No service. How about you?”

I check the bars on my phone, but it flatlines.

He reaches across to the glovebox and pulls out a black device that looks kind of like the walkie-talkies my brothers used to play with. “Satellite phone.”

While he reports the avalanche, my thoughts cascade with worst-case scenarios along the lines of people being stranded in the snow, succumbing to hypothermia, and being entombed in ice.

“SNAFU,” he says into the device and then pauses. “Copy that. Roger.”

“What’s SNAFU?”

“Situation normal. All fouled up.”

“Is this normal for this area?”

Alex chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “No. But good thing we stopped when we did. Then again, we might have made it past in time had we not. Anyway, I have plenty of supplies even if we’re stuck here all night.”

“All night?”

“Probably six hours at most.” Alex meets my eyes and claps his hand on my knee. “But don’t worry. I’m prepared for situations like this.”

---