Page 42 of Blindly Yours

I’m off the road, so no one is going to hit me…unless they skid in the same spot. I shudder, imagining a fast-moving semi colliding with my tiny sedan. But I don’t have a shovel, so there’s no way I’m getting out of here. Do I try to sleep in my car? I check the fuel indicator. I have half a tank left. Will it even run long enough to keep me warm all night if I have to stay here? I think I have a blanket in the trunk. No, there’d be nothing safe about sleeping on the side of the road. I mentally cross off that option.

Maybe I could try to walk to the nearest home or business. But would they even be open in the storm? I peer out the window, searching for any signs of life, but all I see is white. I have to find help, and the only way that will happen is if I head out into the storm alone. I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but then a set of bright headlights pierces through the falling snow in my mirror. A large pickup truck grows closer and closer until it slows down to a stop beside me.

I grip the wheel tighter as someone gets out of the driver’s side and crosses in front of the headlights. It’s a man, and he’s dressed in a thick wool coat with a plaid scarf tied around his neck and mouth. His hat is pulled down so far it almost covers his eyes. He stops at my window and taps on the glass.

I hesitate because I’m not sure what to think. Is this man here to help me, or is he taking advantage of a woman stuck alone in the snow? Do I want to be strandedand thenkidnapped, orjust strandedtonight? I’ve already decided stranded alone is not an option, so I take my chances and roll my window down just a crack.

He’s peering down at the state of my snow-lodged tires when he speaks. “Need some help, ma’am?”

That voice.

I recognize it immediately. I roll my window down all the way and squint up at him as the cold rushes in. “Nate?”

He quickly turns his gaze to mine and recognition washes over him too. He pulls his scarf away from his mouth. “Ms. Astor?”

“What are you doing here?” I’m having trouble understanding why I’m seeing him outside the office, orat all.

“I live just down the road. I was checking up on some neighbors on my way home and saw your car. Where are you going in this weather?” He furrows his brow.

Great, because I’m not already having a crappy enough night, I need the third degree from him, too. “I’m headed up to St. Cloud. I was trying to beat the snow.”

He looks at my tires again. “Well, I’d say you failed on that front.”

I purse my lips and peer out at his truck. “Do you have a shovel or something? To dig me out?”

He shakes his head and almost laughs. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. The storm’s just started.”

I know he’s right, but I huff anyway. “Well, can I borrow your phone to call roadside assistance? Mine’s not working.”

“The cell signals in this area are out. Mine doesn’t work either.” He puts his gloved hands on his hips and stares at me.

Welp.

I chew on my lip as frozen air blows into the car through the open window. I glance at his truck, which seems to be clearing the compacted snow easily with its large tires. I hate that I’m going to have to ask him for a bigger favor. “Well, um, can you drive me to a nearby hotel or something?” I clear my throat. “Please?”

He scratches his beard. “Nearest hotel is in Monticello. That’s at least fifteen miles away. I’m not even sure my truck’ll get us that far. Besides, I’ve gotta get home.”

“Oh.” I look down at my lap. “Of course. No problem. I have a blanket here in the car. I’ll be ok.”

“You’re not sleeping in your car.” He laughs, takes a deep breath, and then lets it out as he scratches his cheek. “You could, um, stay at my place for the night. I have an extra room.”

I turn my gaze to his. He has to be kidding. “Oh, um, that’s…I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. “I’ll drive you back to your car in the morning and we’ll dig you out.”

This is so wildly different from the way I planned to spend my evening, and I desperately want to refuse him, but my gut knows how stupid that would be. So, I grab my purse from the passenger seat and then look at him once more. “Are you sure?”

He sighs. “Yes, now c’mon, the snow’s only gonna get worse.”

I turn off my car and he steps back as I open the door. I tentatively swing my feet out. I’m wearing flats—which I thought were the safe choice today—but they aren’t going to protect much against the snow.

He shakes his head when he sees them. “Most people wear boots in a snowstorm.”

“It wasn’t snowing when I left,” I mumble as he opens his passenger door and I take two quick steps through the snow to hop in.

“You have bags?” he asks.

“Two in the trunk, yes,” I reply, pressing a button on my key fob to open it.

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