Page 22 of Dad Bod Snow Job

"You threatened to report him to the Better Business Bureau."

"And the Department of Transportation." Her grin turns wicked. "I learned from the best. All those hours watching you negotiate with suppliers..."

Pride wars with possessiveness in my chest. She's brilliant, my Holly. Fierce. But the snow is falling faster now, coating the windshield despite the wipers' steady rhythm. Fat flakes swirl in the headlights, hypnotic and disorienting.

The engine coughs. Sputters. Dies.

"No. No, no, no." I wrestle the steering wheel as we coast to the shoulder. The truck shudders to a stop, steam rising from under the hood in the beam of the headlights.

Holly peers through the thickening snow. "What happened?"

"Stay here." I grab my jacket from behind the seat. "I need to check something."

The wind hits like a physical blow as I pop the hood. Steam billows up, carrying the unmistakable smell of burnt rubber and hot metal. The serpentine belt hangs in shredded strips, probably wearing thin for weeks without me noticing. Damn it.

Footsteps crunch in the snow behind me. Of course, she didn't stay in the truck.

"That doesn't look good." Holly huddles deeper into her coat, snowflakes catching in her hair like a crown of stars.

"Belt's shot." I slam the hood harder than necessary. "We're not going anywhere without a tow."

She pulls out her phone. "I'll call—" The words die as she stares at the screen. "No signal."

Perfect.

I check my phone. Nothing. The storm must be interfering with reception, and we're too far up the mountain for a reliable signal anyway.

Holly shivers, and every protective instinct roars to life. "Back in the truck. Now."

"So bossy." But she complies, letting me open her door. "What's the plan?"

I slide behind the wheel, mentally calculating distances. The truck's dead. No cell service. Snow is falling harder by the minute. And my cabin is...

"My place is about two miles up that access road." I point through the curtain of white. "We can wait out the storm there."

"Your cabin?" Her voice sounds strange. Breathy.

"Unless you'd rather freeze?" The thought of her in danger, even from something as simple as cold, sets my teeth on edge.

"Race you there." She reaches for her door handle.

"Holly." I catch her wrist. "We stick together. This storm's getting worse, and the trail's easy to lose in weather like this."

She studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. Together."

Something primal stirs at her easy trust. At the way she says 'together' like it's more than just hiking through snow.

I grab the emergency kit from behind the seat, then help her out of the truck. The wind whips between the trees, carrying ice crystals that sting any exposed skin. Holly's smaller frame sways against the gust, and I automatically step between her and the wind.

"Stay close." I take her gloved hand in mine, tucking our joined fingers into my coat pocket. "Path's steep in places."

Her answering squeeze makes my heart stutter. "My hero."

I pull her closer as we begin the trek uphill. "Should have checked the weather more carefully before bringing you up here."

"Pretty sure you checked three different forecasts this morning." She bumps my shoulder. "And the highway patrol reports. And probably sacrificed a goat to the weather gods."

"Smartass."

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