Page 57 of Ropers Can't Tie Knots
Riley gathers our cups and plates, and I end up finishing the last bit of crumble after all. It seems like most patrons have the same idea to split because the Thirsty Cow is so empty you could bowl in it.
“You two drive safe, okay?” Diamond tucks a phone in his pocket. “I just called my staff for the evening to stay home, and I think I’ll head home early, too. It’s getting nasty out there.”
“Do you need us to help with anything to get you out of here faster?” Riley asks, but Diamond shakes his head.
“Thanks, sugar, but I won’t be long. I just need to shut things down and lock up. I don’t live far either.”
“As long as you’re sure?” I say and share a glance with Riley.
“Get yourself gone, Mr. Handsome. I’m more than capable.”
Diamond pushes us towards the doors, and after zipping up, Riley and I hug once more outside.
“Text me when you’re home!” He calls out.
“I will! Drive safe.”
Fucking Alberta clippers. An entire season of snow dumped in an hour or two. Something else I hate but will choose over snakes in my bathtub any day.
After driving for ten excruciating minutes in the heavy snow, I’m finally making the turn onto the first country road to the ranch. As an Albertan, I know how to drive in the snow, and I’m well aware of how fast the snow accumulates in one of these storms. But I’m also not used to driving in these conditions in the dark on back roads.
I lived in the city all my life and snow removal follows different rules there.
My knuckles ache along with my jaw as I slowly creep forward along the road and keep to the centre to avoid any chance of accidentally hitting the ditch. It feels like ages have passed when I finally reach the stop sign to turn for the last stretch to the ranch.
“Okay. I’m almost there,” I mutter as I pull out onto the road and pray to god I’m actually still on it. Tire marks disappear too quickly in the country with the reduced traffic, and the only thing guiding me is the GPS diagram showing me I’m still on the road.
But I have no frame of reference for how far I am from the ranch. Familiar markers are invisible, and I’ve resigned myself to just keep looking for the light at the end of the driveway. My shoulders are tight, and I’m leaning so far forward against the steering wheel to see better, my nose could touch the windshield.
The wipers work triple time, and if I go any slower, I’m afraid I might get stuck.
“Come on, come on. Please let me see the light pole for the ranch soon.” I mutter to my empty car. Time seems to stand still, and I focus on my deep breathing to stay calm.
Finally, the light of the ranch shines through the snow, and I give the car more gas to make the turn…and get caught at the end of the driveway. After streaming curses, it could be worse. I could be in a ditch somewhere.
After I kill the engine, I check my coat zipper is completely closed, pull my hat lower, and begin the walk up the lane towards the house, instantly regretting not grabbing a warmer hat to cover my ears before I left.
When I finally reach the door of the ranch and step inside, I feel like an icicle and press my back against the door while wiping the melting snow from my eyelashes.
“Gabe! Are you okay? I was just about to go look for you!”
Hunter rushes towards me, and finally, the stress bleeds out of my body. My teeth chatter from the cold, and Hunter rushes to help remove my snowy clothes.
“I-I got s-stuck at the end of the d-driveway.”
“You walked up the driveway? No wonder you’re freezing. I started a fire already. Take off everything that’s wet, and I’ll grab another blanket.”
Hunter almost runs into the wall in his haste to get a blanket, while I still shiver and shake with cold. God, I could never pass a wilderness survival test. I’d die from hypothermia in June, for god’s sake.
My pants are soaked through, and I kick them off at the door along with my underpants and socks, but I leave my sweater on since it’s the only article that’s dry. Hunter returns with a blanket and wraps it around me, leading me away from the cold and wet pile of garments.
The warmth of the fire in the living room is heavenly, and the wall of heat smacks into me. “Oh god, it’s so warm. You’re a lifesaver.”
He places me on the couch and instantly sits next to me with his arm around my shoulders to pull me closer.
“You need a better vehicle if you’re staying here, counsellor,” he says, and his voice hitches. “I tried to track your location, but the internet is shit with the storm, and it never updated since you left town.”
“W-were you actually going to look for me?”
