Page 43 of Blindly Yours

While he retrieves them, I visually explore the inside of the truck cab. It’s surprisingly tidy. In the cupholder is a half-empty pack of Big Red chewing gum, and dangling from the rearview mirror is a multicolored beaded bracelet. I can just barely hear country music playing on the radio.

I hate country music, so I turn it off.

He puts my bags in the back seat, then he brushes the snow from his shoulders, climbs in, and shuts the door behind him. “Ready?”

I nod, and as he eases back onto the road, I can hear the snow crunching and creaking beneath the tires, but the truck moves with much more stability than my car did.

Nate clears his throat. “So, how’s the ceiling holding up, ma’am?” He squints through the veil of heavy flakes that fall in front of us.

I roll my eyes. “I think you can cut the formalities now. It’s Rose.”

“Fair enough,” he nods, then there’s a long pause. “So, what’s in St. Cloud?”

“A client lives there,” I reply, peering through the windshield at the barely visible set of tire tracks ahead of us.

“Wow, you make house calls?”

“We do for this one. She has almost five hundred million in the bank.”

Nate lets out a slow whistle.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”

“I bet her shoes are even more expensive than yours.”

“You’re hilarious.” I cross my arms and stare out my window.

“Thanks, I’ll take the compliment.”

I want to tell him he’s annoying, and he’s a grump, and I’m tired of being teased, but he’s giving me a place to sleep tonight, so I zip my lips.

He doesn’t say anything else for the short drive, and he honestly doesn’t seem like he’s bothered by the silence. But I’m starting to wish the country music was playing again.

We pull into the driveway of a small ranch-style home, and almost half a foot of snow is piled on the roof already. Smoke spirals up from the chimney, and the lights are on inside, pouring warmth onto the sparkling snow-covered sidewalk.

Nate gets out first and crosses around to my side while I gather my purse. He opens my door and steps back. “I haven’t shoveled, but you can step in my footprints so you don’t ruin your shoes.”

It’s not a kindness I was expecting from him, but I’m grateful. I climb out and carefully follow him up the sidewalk. His footprints are large underneath my shoes, and I have to widen my step to land carefully in each one, but I make it to the door without completely ruining my flats.

He unlocks it and we step inside as warmth envelopes us both. When he offers to hang my coat in the closet, I use the opportunity to observe the room. There’s a stone fireplace crackling with flames situated at the far end, and there’s a small pile of chopped wood neatly stacked next to it. Facing the flames, an oversized leather couch is flanked by two wingback olive green chairs, and a large Persian rug covers almost the entire expanse of wide plank wood floors.

Through a doorway to the left is the kitchen, and to the right is a hallway. At the back of the room is a set of windows that look out at the white flakes falling in the dark.

After hanging my coat, Nate steps toward the hallway. “Kara, I’m home!”

Kara? I quickly glance at his left hand. I didn’t think he was married, and there is no ring there. Does he live with a girlfriend? But I’m only confused for a moment because a young child comes bouncing down the hallway with a big grin. She has fine, blonde hair, and spruce-blue eyes just like Nate’s. She looks maybe six years old. But when she sees me, her smile fades and she comes to stand shyly next to Nate.

He rests his hand on her back. “Kara, this is Miss Rose. She’s going to stay with us tonight during the storm. She’s a friend from work, and her car got stuck in the snow.” He turns to me. “This is my daughter, Kara.”

I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water for an embarrassing moment. I had no idea. I look at his empty ring finger again. This could get awkward if her mother is around. I don’t want anything to look weird.

He follows my gaze, and evidently, my train of thought. “It’s just us.”

I nod and turn my attention to Kara, smiling and extending my hand. “Hi, Kara. It’s nice to meet you.”

No longer seeing me as a threat, she confidently accepts the handshake. “My birthday was last week. I turned seven, and now Dad lets me tend the fire while he’s gone.” She points proudly at the crackling logs across the room.

Nate crosses his arms. “And yet, you were in your room when we came in. I think we talked about how you need to stay out here to watch it while I’m gone.”

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