Page 6 of Twins for the Mountain Daddies

No good. I straighten up, shaking my head at her and brushing off the cold snow that clings to my jeans.

Her brow furrows, lips pressed tight. She looks lost, her eyes scanning the endless stretch of white around us.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Her voice holds a note of desperation, but she's trying to mask it with calm.

I glance around. Trees crowd us, heavy with snow. My phone is just a hunk of glass and metal out here; no signal can pierce through these mountains. "Not much choice. You need a tow, and that means a call."

"Can you try? Please? I don’t have any service."

I exhale sharply. “No one does. Radio’s the only thing that works up here.” I jerk my chin toward my truck. "Let's head up to my truck. I've got a radio there."

She hesitates, arms wrapped around herself, barely dressed for the weather. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip like she’sdebating whether to argue. She looks like the type to argue with everything just for the fun of it.

“Unless you wanna sit here all night,” I add, already trudging back through the snow.

She huffs, mutters something under her breath, but follows. The wind cuts sharp, and I don’t miss the way she shivers. Damn city girl wasn’t prepared for mountain roads or mountain cold.

It’s January in Montana. What exactly was she expecting? Sunshine and heat waves?

I haul open the truck door and climb in, reaching for the radio mounted under the dash. Static crackles as I twist the knob. “Hank to Mason, you there?”

More static. Then Mason’s voice breaks through, rough as ever. “Yeah, what’s up?”

"Got a stranded vehicle on the ridge. Gonna need a tow.” I glance at the girl, still hugging herself like that flimsy sweatshirt and painted-on leggings of hers are doing a damn thing.

“What's your twenty?"

"About five miles east from the fork, near the old Miller place. Car’s stuck pretty good. Needs a tow when you can. She’ll freeze before the engine does."

"Roads are hell. Might take some time."

"Radio when you can get out. Thanks, Mase."

The girl's huddled against the passenger door, her arms crossed as though she can hold off the chill just by willing it away.

"Great," she mutters, more to herself than to me.

"Where you headed?" I ask, shifting to face her.

"An Airbnb," she replies. “Not far from here, I think.”

“I’ll take you.”

She meets my eyes, hesitation clear in the tight set of her jaw. There’s a silent standoff, she’s clearly weighing the risks, but the snow isn’t letting up. It’s piling higher by the minute, swallowingher chances of making it anywhere alone. Even if she did know where she was going.

Finally, she nods, a reluctant frown tugging at her lips, like she’s agreeing to something she doesn’t really want to.

“Okay,” she whispers, slipping out of the truck.

The door shuts with a dull thud behind her, the sound swallowed by the wind. I watch as she moves through the snow, graceful despite how damn miserable she looks. That city car of hers never belonged on these roads—especially not in weather like this. The hell was she thinking?

She wraps her arms around herself as she fumbles with the keys, shivering hard enough that I can see it from here. No jacket. No boots. Just an oversized sweatshirt, thin leggings, and slip-on shoes that are already soaked through. The sight needles at me.

She doesn’t match that fancy city car she’s been driving. Even roughed up by the weather, she screams money. Which makes even less sense, given the way she’s dressed.

She pops the trunk and bends down to dig through her bags, and my eyes catch on the way her hair tumbles loose from that messy bun, chestnut strands falling over her shoulders. Even dressed like this—half-frozen and worn down—she’s something to behold.

I don’t know what brought her out here, but whatever storm she’s running from must be a hell of a lot worse than the storm.

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