Page 52 of Offside Attraction

Rhonda laughed and said goodbye. At least she’d dodged a bullet there. She still hadn’t settled on a back story for Mystery Man slash Jordan.

She knew full well she’d let her friends believe that she’d stopped in an actual town. If she’d told them she was sitting on the side of the road, they would have sicced the entire Snowball offensive line on her, and that was not what she wanted. She was fine. She didn’t need anyone to risk driving in this mess.

Rhonda set her phone in the cupholder and climbed over the console to the back seat. She had an old blanket back there somewhere, she was sure of it. She worked to pull down the middle seat, then remembered she had to climb back into the front to pull the seat release. She Catherine Zeta-Jones’d it back over the console and hit the lever, then dropped onto the back seat.

She grunted as she reached through the gap into the trunk. The blanket was way too far back, but there was no way she was getting out to open the trunk from the outside.

Rhonda reached her arm through the gap again and pushed the back of the seat with her free hand for leverage. Her shoulder popped as she stretched, and she gritted her teeth.Just a little farther.She could feel the edge of the blanket.

Her fingers scrabbled against the fabric. She was sweating when she finally hooked it with one of her nails. The blanket slipped closer, and she gave it a good yank. The plaid fabric tumbled through the opening, and Rhonda pulled it into her lap, panting.

She climbed back into the driver's seat and wrapped the blanket around her like a burrito, then pulled out her phone and opened Netflix. She needed to drown out the sound of the storm. That whistling was making her even more anxious.

Rhonda scrolled through her list and landed on her comfort show, Gilmore Girls. She pulled the blanket tighter around her, cocooning herself in its warmth, then turned off the engine. It was warm enough, she could last for a while. She had a full tank of gas, but she’d never attempted to spend all night in her car before.

The first episode had just started when, out of nowhere, a loud thud echoed through her car. Rhonda screamed and jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs. Her head whipped toward the window, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a figure standing there, their face just inches from the glass.

She blinked, then wiped at the glass, but the figure was already walking around the hood of her car. He was wearing a huge coat and toque, that was all she could make out. Rhonda's pulse quickened, and her fingers fumbled to escape the blanket and find the lock button. Had she locked the doors?

All this time she’d been afraid of getting hit, when really she should’ve been afraid of murderers. The passenger door swung open, and Rhonda swiveled like a turtle on its back, kicking her tennis shoes up toward the attacker.

The man dropped into the seat and closed the door, his breath fogging around him. He turned, and Rhonda’s heart stuttered.

“Is that comfortable?” Jordan asked.

Rhonda dropped her feet, tangling them in the blanket. "What are you?—"

"Helping you not die in a snowstorm." He watched her struggle to free herself from her mummification. "That was your plan?”

Rhonda's cheeks flushed. "Yeah.” She jutted out her chin. This was her plan, and she was proud of it. She wasn’t a damsel in distress. She didn’t need anyone to swoop in and save her.

Jordan’s jaw tensed. The tip of his nose and the skin just above his cheekbones were pink. “You were going to sleep here? On the side of the highway?”

Rhonda raised her arms as if to say,what else was I supposed to do?Jordan glanced away with the hint of an eye roll, and anger bubbled inside her chest. “If you came here to mock me?—”

“Get out of the car.” Jordan’s eyes were dark, his brow furrowed.

Rhonda scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. “No.”

Jordan's eyes flicked to her phone, and Rhonda flipped it over in her lap. She'd forgotten the show was still playing. He ran a hand over his face. “You’re not staying here all night.”

“I can’t drive my car on these roads.”

“Do you have snow tires?”

She shook her head. “It’s October.”

“It’s Alberta.”

She glared at him. “I'm not leaving my car here."

Jordan shifted in the seat, his throat working. "You're not going to leave it on the side of the road. You get in my truck, and I'll drive your car to the exit."

Rhonda’s eyes widened. "My car won't even make it up the exit ramp!”

“I guess we’ll find out,” he snapped. Her mouth hung open as he leaned closer. "Leave your keys, get out of the car, and get in my damn truck."

The air in the car seemed to crystallize. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to grab the collar of his coat and pull him— Rhonda caught herself, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

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