"Then I'll take us the rest of the way," Lana adds.
I glance at her. "In this weather? Absolutely not."
"Excuse me? Which one of us grew up on the sunny beaches of California while the other one of us practically grew up building igloos?" she protests. "I'm driving us up the mountains."
"No," I say.
"What? You don't think I can?" She crosses her arms like she's done so many times on this trip.
"I think you can do anything I can do and probably do it better," I say.
"Then?"
We pull up to a tiny gas station. There's a brown crown vic with the wordsSheriffscrawled across the doors parked next to me. A uniformed man tips his hat at us as we park.
"Nothing. I just can't in good conscience let you take on the toughest part of this trip," I continue saying to Lana.
"Because you don't think I can," she says.
I look back at her brother in the back seat.
"Just let her drive, man. You won't hear the end of it," Mick confirms.
Lana extends an empty hand and flexes her fingers, asking for the key.
I reluctantly pull it from the ignition and drop it into her hand. "Fine."
She snatches her hand away before I can change my mind and grabs her sweatshirt and purse before pushing the door open.
"You should probably put on something a little warmer," I say, popping open the trunk to grab my coat from my luggage.
"I'm fine," she says, sashaying past the gawking young sheriff as she slips the hoodie back on.
"You folks staying in town for Christmas?" He asks her.
"Passing through, we're headed up the mountain," Lana says, flashing a sparkling smile that could knock the pants off any man. And I resent the fact that it wasn't directed at me.
"Not tonight you aren't," the Sheriff says with a shake of his head.
I pull my coat out from my bag and slam the trunk before taking the spot next to a now-shivering Lana.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"Roads are closed. No one's going in or out of town the rest of the night. There's ice on the roads, and we can't have any preventable accidents the day before Christmas Eve."
Mick joins us, throwing on a jacket. "Are you saying we're stuck here?"
The sheriff looks at each of us. "'Fraid, so."
Lana shakes her head. "We don't have any place to stay. Our family is expecting us tonight, and we're already running late due to a detour."
"Sorry, miss, but you'll have to let them know you'll meet them once the storm passes."
"Storm?" We all repeat.
"Mmhmm, big one too, coming in from the Northwest."
"Fucking fantastic," Mick says, zipping up his jacket.