Page 76 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
She leaned toward him and captured the fry in her mouth. The gesture was oddly intimate, and her smile faded as her gaze met his. It was happening again. That heart-pounding, room-fading-away, shallow-breathing syndrome. Obviously this... feeling... had something to do with the weather. Maybe she could blame it on the season of love and goodwill toward all mankind. Apparently she was overly endowed withbenevolence this Christmas. Given the sensations she was already experiencing, heaven only knew what would happen if she spied some mistletoe.
Slade raked his hand through his well-groomed hair, mussing it. Quickly he diverted his gaze out the window. “It looks like it might be letting up a little.”
“Yes, it does,” she agreed without so much as checking the weather. The French fries seemed to demand her full attention.
“I suppose we should think about heading out.”
“I suppose.” A glance at her watch confirmed that it was well into the afternoon. “I’m sorry about your appointment.”
He looked at her blankly for a moment. “Oh, that. I knew when we left that there was little likelihood I’d be able to make it in time today. Luckily I’ve already made arrangements to meet tomorrow morning.”
“It’s been an enjoyable break.”
“Very,” he agreed.
“Do you think we’ll have any more problems?”
“We could, but there are enough businesses along the way that we don’t need to worry about getting stranded.”
“In other words, we could hit every fast-food spot between here and Seattle.”
He responded with a soft chuckle. “Right.”
“Well, in that case, bring on the French fries.”
By the time they were back on the freeway, Shelly saw that the storm had indeed lessened, though it was far from over. And when the radio issued a weather update that called for more snow, Slade groaned.
“You could always spend Christmas with me and Dad,” she offered, broaching the subject carefully. “We’d like to have you. Honest.”
He tossed her a disbelieving glare. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
“But I’m a stranger.”
“I’ve shared French fries with you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been that intimate with a man. In fact, it would be best if you didn’t mention it to my dad. He might be inclined to reach for his shotgun.”
It took a minute for Slade to understand the implication. “A shotgun wedding?”
“Iamgetting on in years. Dad would like to see me married off and producing grandchildren. My brothers have been lax in that department.” For the moment she’d forgotten about Margaret. When she remembered, she felt her exhilaration rush out of her with all the force of a deflating balloon. “Don’t worry,” she was quick to add. “All you need to do is tell Dad about your fiancée and he’ll let you off the hook.” Somehow she managed to keep her voice cheerful.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t take a bite of your hamburger.”
“Are you kidding? That would have put me directly into your last will and testament.”
“I was afraid of that,” he said, laughing good-naturedly.
Once again she noticed how rich and deep the sound of his laughter was. It had the most overwhelming effect on her. She discovered that, when he laughed, nothing could keep her spirits down.
Their progress was hampered by the still-swirling snow, and finally their forward movement became little more than a crawl. She didn’t mind. They chatted, joked and sang along with the radio. She discovered that she enjoyed his wit. Although a bit dry, under that gruff, serious exterior lay an interesting man with a warm but subtle sense of humor. Given any other set of circumstances, she would have loved to get to know Slade Garner better.
“What’d you buy your dad for Christmas?”
The question came so unexpectedly that it took her a moment to realize that he was speaking to her.
“Are you concerned that I have soup in my bag?”
He scowled, momentarily puzzled. “Ah, to go with the bread. No, I was just curious.”
