Page 87 of Side Trip

Thank God they got one. Cold and scared, Joy clenched her teeth to stop the chattering. She’d gone from perspiring in the heat and humidity and singing with Dylan as they drove toward Chicago to dancing with him in the rain alongside the highway, then on to soaked and shivering and seeking shelter from a freak storm.

Okay, it wasn’t freakish to the locals. But for a gal who avoided driving when it rained in SoCal? The weather was unreal, and she didn’t want to be in a soft-top convertible while it was hailing bigger than the size of her fingernails.

He gave her one of the cards to their room.

Was it even safe to be in the hotel? Weren’t they supposed to go underground? Did the hotel have a basement? Doubtful. Given the condition of the hotel, she was surprised it was still standing. She was surprised any of the buildings around them hadn’t been flattened during a previous tornado.

Why did people even live here?

Get a grip, Joy.

She took a calming breath.

Despite their questionable shelter, she was grateful for the alert she’d received on her phone; else they might still be driving, straight into the eye of an F3.

She’d read about those alert texts but expected her first would warn of an earthquake. Or maybe a heavy rainstorm, considering Californians wigged out whenever there was water on the road. She never imagined she’d find herself within the vicinity of a tornado.

Where were they supposed to go? What were they supposed to do?

Find a barn and strap themselves to exposed piping with just their leather belts like they did in the movieTwister? Not.

They weren’t supposed to dance in the rain on the side of the highway either.

Idiots.

No wonder people had honked at them. They hadn’t been cheering them on as they danced like loons, getting soaked to the bone, oblivious to what was passing overhead. Those kind souls had been warning her and Dylan of their impending doom.

Joy shivered uncontrollably and hugged herself. She glanced beyond the highway to the black horizon. Lightning streaked across the sky. The air answered with a loud boom, far away. Joy jumped.

“Don’t worry. We’re safe here,” Dylan said. “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”

They grabbed their stuff from the car and ran into the room. Joy dumped her luggage and purse on the floor and immediately toed off her sneakers. Dylan shut the door and turned on the desk lamp.

The room was drab, the decor dating back to the mideighties, and smelled of cigarette smoke. But it was dry; they had a roof over their heads and a working box TV. Dylan turned it on.

Joy dropped her soaked shoes by the door and closed the curtains, giving them some privacy since their room was on the ground floor. She hadn’t wanted anything above that and had been willing to hang out in the hotel’s front office if they didn’t have any rooms on the first level.

“Dancing in the rain seemed like a good idea at the time,” she said, shivering.

Dylan looked at her, a question in his expression.

“It was fun, though,” she added.

“It was. I wouldn’t give up a chance to dance with you again, rain or not.”

His words warmed her in a way the dry room couldn’t. “Me neither.”

Dylan’s gaze roamed over her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. She smiled, suddenly feeling shy and exposed, and her knees knocked.

“The front desk clerk said we’re in the clear, but I’ll keep an eye on the weather if you want to take a shower and warm up,” he said.

“Good idea.” She didn’t hesitate because she couldn’t wait to get out of her wet clothes.

She scooted into the bathroom, shut and locked the door, and stripped. Leaving her clothes in a wet heap on the floor, she turned on the shower and stilled. A storm raged outside, who knew for how long. They were stuck inside. Together, until the hail stopped and the winds calmed.

She was feeling everything but calm.

Water sprayed the floor. A toilet flushed in the room above. Muffled voices could be heard from the room. Dylan had turned on the news.

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