Page 3 of Sheep Calm and Merry On
For the first hour he figured he’d be okay. Then the temperature dropped and the snow came down heavier. The little mylar blanket was not cutting it anymore.
He’d been panicking for a good forty minutes before Devon showed up, to the point where at first he’d thought he was hallucinating.
But nope. He was being rescued or possibly murdered. As long as he had the opportunity to get warm first, he wasn’t sure he cared.
Back outside, the sun had set and the wind was still blowing furiously. Noah pulled his blanket as tight over his coat as he could, but he couldn’t do anything about his jeans, which froze stiff after a handful of steps. He could feel them chapping against his skin.
But the red glow of emergency lights flashed up ahead, promising the eventuality of warmth and safety and maybe even food. Noah gritted his jaw against his chattering teeth and followed Devon’s footsteps.
He expected a beat-up farm vehicle, from what he’d seen of Devon in the dim light of the rest stop—plaid trapper hat, Carhartt jacket, work boots. No-nonsense stuff. Instead Devon waved Noah toward a black Sierra Denali, a couple model years old but still top of the line. Maybe serial killing paid better than he thought.
“Get in and get warm,” Devon shouted over the roaring wind. “I have to get the flashers and clear the snow.”
Noah didn’t have to be told twice. He scrambled into the cab, thanking God or Satan or whoever for remote start and heated seats. Would Devon be offended if Noah took his pants off again? Because he would love to toast his glutes.
He didn’t have time to decide before Devon joined him in the truck, snow dusting his hat and shoulders. “Well! That’s the last time I leave any Christmas shopping for the last minute,” he said bracingly. “You good?”
Noah was not what he’d call good—he was cold and wet and uncomfortable. But he was on his way to fixing most of that, so he just nodded and shoved his hands in front of the vents. “Yeah, man. Let’s just get going before it gets any worse out here.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Even in the well-equipped truck, they made slow, careful progress, occasionally hitting patches of ice or snow that sent the truck skidding. Noah felt stupid for thinking he could make it through this mess in his car, but he’d been so focused on getting home for Christmas for the first time in years—on the idea of starting over.
Because Colorado had never really been home.
And now he was so close he could taste it, and he’d almost killed himself getting there. Stupid.
“Jesus, it’s a mess,” Devon muttered, squinting at the road. “You see any mile markers?”
“I think they’re all covered.” God, were they going to get lost now too? What a fucking day.
Luckily they spotted a sign for a turnoff, only half covered, and Devon whistled under his breath. “My lucky day I guess.”
“Mine too, for sure.”
Whatever country road Devon had turned down, it didn’t have any streetlights. But from the twin black maws on either side of it, it had plenty of deep ditches. Devon steered the truck straight down the middle, seemingly oblivious but maybe just concentrating.
“So,” he said after a moment. “Colorado?”
The least Noah could do was fill the silence with small talk. Apparently even fancy trucks didn’t get radio reception in weather like this.
But he didn’t want to get into the whole drama of it. People always thought they understood, or they felt bad for him, or they asked a bunch of questions Noah didn’t want to answer. That part of his life was over. He liked where he was now.
Career-wise, that was. He wasn’t too keen on the treacherous backcountry road through the part of Hell that had frozen over.
So he skipped the part people found interesting and said, “I went to school out there,” which was also true. Coincidentally, that was after he washed out of the NHL. “Then I just kind of stayed.”
“But you still can’t drive in the snow?”
Okay, Noah probably deserved that. “I lived on campus,” he protested. “And then when I graduated, I got a job at a boarding school, so I lived in the residence there too.”
And then he moved in with Tommy, but the less said about that, the better.
“Huh.” Devon flipped his turn signal. God knew who for. No one else was nuts enough to be out in this shit. “What were you doing?”
Damn it. That one wasn’t so easy to sidestep. “Athletics stuff mostly. Glorified gym teacher.” No big deal.
“Yeah? Nice. You moving back to the area, then?”
