Page 7 of When It Snows

“Are you denying the ice is mean?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t dare.” He holds out his hand. “Let me help you up.”

I want to ignore his hand but I’m self aware enough to know the chances of me standing up without falling again arepretty low. As in zero. I skipped the line the day they were handing out elegance and went straight to the front of the klutz line.

Weston helps me to my feet and makes sure I’m steady with a hand on my waist before releasing me. As soon as he does, I miss his touch.

Did I mention I had a crush on Weston all through high school? I used to dream about him telling everyone to shut up and leave me alone. Teenagers are such idiots. Or maybe I was the idiot.

“Where do you want me to push from?”

He scowls. “You’re not pushing.”

“Why?” I narrow my eyes on him. “Are you one of those men who think women are weak?”

He rears back. “I wouldn’t dare. My mom would skin me alive while giving me a lecture on equality. And then, to make certain I learned my lesson, she’d make me organize an equality march.”

“Your mom sounds wonderful.”

He grins. “She’s the best. She always supported my dreams even though I didn’t want to follow in her footsteps with the family business.”

Lucky him. I would have loved for my family to support me. I don’t think the word support is in their vocabulary, though. Hazel tries but she often buckles under pressure from Mom and Dad.

“Anyway.” He clears his throat and motions to the car. “There’s no way the two of us are getting this moving. No matter how strong we both are. I’ll call someone to pick me up.”

“But what about your work? Aren’t you on duty?”

“Not much work to be done on the island when all the stores are closed for the snowstorm, and everyone is hunkered down in their houses.” He points to the cabin. “Go on. Get inside before you catch cold.”

“If you’re sure…”

He nods. Good. My rear is feeling a bit chilly since my jeans are wet from my fall. “Do you want to come in while you wait?”

“I need to make my call first.”

“Come in whenever you’re ready,” I say before retreating to the house.

I leave the door unlocked before making my way to the bedroom to change out of my wet jeans. Since I won’t be going anywhere today, I put on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms.

When I return to the living room, I realize Weston is still outside. How long does he need to make a phone call?

I scan the driveway for him but he’s not in his patrol car or standing on the porch. Where is he? He better not try walking to town in this weather.

I shove my feet into my boots yet again. When I step out onto the porch, I still don’t see him.

Whack!

I follow the sound to the side of the house where Weston’s chopping wood.

Oh my. I thought he was sexy shoveling snow. I was wrong. Nothing can compare to the sight of him chopping wood.

I grew up on a farm. I know how much strength chopping wood takes. But Weston chops away without breaking a sweat.

I watch for a while before I realize I’m staring. And probably drooling. I retreat to the house and return with a glass of water.

“Weston,” I holler as I approach. Never startle someone who’s holding an axe.

He stills before glancing over at me. I hold up the glass.

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