Shea Sydney should have waited until morning to make the drive, but the anticipation of finally exacting revenge for her father’s death spurred her into the bitter cold night. If the moving truck hadn’t been running late, she wouldn’t be out at this time of the night trying to see through blinding snow. Not to mention the heater in her older model car decided to stop working an hour back.
Shea trembled so hard her teeth clattered. She turned the windshield wipers to full speed and leaned forward to see through the frozen window to the road. The weather grew worse the further up the mountain she drove.
Snow mixed with ice pelted the front windshield, reminding her of the spaceship zooming through the galaxy in Star Wars. Should she pull over until the storm let up, or should she turn around and go home? Her rental house wouldn’t have furniture until the movers delivered her things tomorrow anyway.
No, she’d come this far. Another mile or two, and she’d be headed down into the valley of Misty Hollow.
At a snail’s pace, she continued. Hope sprang as the road curved downward. The worst of the drive was behind her in this wintery hell.
Her car slid sideways, slowly at first, then began to pick up speed. Shea’s heart beat in her throat.
A dark shape loomed ahead then came closer.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.
She closed her eyes right before impact.
The jolt slammed her head into the back of her seat, then jerked forward.
She sat there a moment, her breathing coming in quick gasps, and assessed her condition. She didn’t appear to be injured, thanks to her seatbelt. It looked as if a new car was now a necessity. Even a minor accident would have finished off this vehicle.
She climbed from the car to see what she’d hit. A frigid wind whipped up the back of her coat and down the neckline. She crossed her arms tight around her middle. She’d hit a parked truck.
The vehicle sat a weird angle. Shea trudged to the closest side and peered in the window. Thank God, it was empty. A jack that must have fallen when the collision occurred lay in the snow. Where was the driver? Thinking he or she must have gotten a ride out of the storm, she turned back to her car.
A pair of denim-clad legs stuck out of the ditch. Shea scrambled down to find a man. Was this the driver? The man was lucky. A few more feet and he’d have fallen over the cliff, and she wouldn’t have seen him at all. Was he even alive?
She dropped to her knees in the snow, took off her glove, and felt for a pulse. Strong and steady. Shea needed to call for help. Slipping and sliding her way back up to her car, she fished around on the floor for her cell phone. No service. Her eyes darted up and down the road. Other than her car and the man’s truck, she hadn’t seen another vehicle since driving up the mountain.
With a groan, she returned to the man and fought to get him up. “Come on.” At over six feet, he was too large for her to manage on her own. Shea returned once again to her car and retrieved the sleeping bag she’d be using that night and placed it over him. She sat on a rock and huddled into a ball to keep warm, praying for someone to drive by.
“What the…” The man sat up, tossing aside her sleeping bag. “Who are you?”
At the sound of the man’s voice, she bolted up. “Shea Sydney. My car slid into your truck.”
“Yeah,” he winced. “I remember that. I jumped back as my truck slid from the jack. I must have hit my head.” His eyes narrowed. “Why are you sitting out here in the snow?”
“I couldn’t leave you.” She pushed stiffly to her feet. “Please tell me you have a way of finding us help.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be changing a tire during a snowstorm.” He picked up the sleeping bag. “Looks like we’re walking off this mountain. This ought to keep us warm.”
Her eyes widened. “As in share?”
“Unless you want to freeze.” He wrapped half around him, covering his head, and held the other half open. “Well?”
“Are you fit enough to walk?”
“I’ve a thick skull. Come on.”
She grabbed her purse from the car and slipped under the bag. The man’s body heat immediately dispelled the chill in her bones.
“I’m Zeke Matchett.”
She stiffened at hearing his name. Could he be related to the man she sought? Forcing herself to remain calm, she said, “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry about all this.”
“Luckily you weren’t going very fast when you hit that black ice.” He wrapped his arm around her waist as she slipped.
“Yeah. Lucky.” She stepped out of his hold. It wouldn’t do to become too friendly with a possible relative of a murderer.
~
“How far until we reach town?” Shea asked.
“Five miles, but it’s a windy road. Ever hear the saying about a country mile?” Zeke grinned, wishing he could see her face better. From the glimpse he caught of her face through the snow, she looked like a beauty with dark hair, a thin build, and a soft voice. “What brings you to town?”
“I’m the new deputy at the sheriff’s department.”
He’d bet she was the best-looking deputy he’d ever seen. “I own Matchett Winery. We’ll reach my place before town. You’re welcome to crash there until we can call for a ride out to retrieve our vehicles.”
“The moving truck will be at my place bright and early.”
“Not if the storm continues.”
“Okay. Thank you for the offer.” She sounded reluctant.
He gave a mental shrug. “No one will think anything bad about you staying at my place. It’s big enough for you to have your own space. Where will you be living?”
She gave him the address.
“That house is pretty secluded. Backs up to my grapevines. You sure you want to stay there alone?”
“I like my privacy. Plus, the rent is cheap.”
They made the rest of the walk in silence. The cold deepened, stealing his breath. The sight of a light through the window of his house had never been more welcome. “Look down there. That’s my place. We’ll turn left at the iron gate.”
“Thank God. I think my eyes are frozen open.”
He chuckled and pushed open the gate. They’d reach the main house in ten minutes.
When they did, he shook the snow from the sleeping bag and unlocked the front door. Inside, he hung the sleeping bag over a chair and headed to the fireplace. “Make yourself at home. The guest bedroom is down the hall, second door on your left, the bathroom first door on the left. Once I have a fire going, I’ll make some hot chocolate, or would you prefer something stronger? I’ve beer in the fridge and whiskey in the cupboard.”
“Hot chocolate sounds wonderful.” She removed her coat.
Yep, she was as pretty as he thought with hair the color of dark chocolate, a hint of red under the light, and bright blue eyes.
Once he had a fire going, he headed to the kitchen to make the hot chocolate with milk, the way his mother had taught him. By the time he’d finished, Shea had joined him, her hair tied back.
“I should have brought my suitcase.”
“You’d have hated lugging it down the mountain, and the rollers wouldn’t have worked in the snow. I can lend you something if you don’t mind it being baggy.”
“At this point, I don’t mind.”
“Watch the milk so it doesn’t scald. I’ll be right back.” He rushed to his room where he changed into dry clothes. Minutes later, he handed Shea a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved tee shirt.
Soon, they each chose an end of the sofa and sipped on their hot chocolates.
“You’ll like Misty Hollow,” he said.
She arched a brow. “Really? This town has been in the news a lot over the last year. Seems like there’s a lot of crime to me.”
“Not so much. You don’t hear about the good things. As isolated as this town is, it’s a good place for people to hide, but it’s also a great place to live.”
“The crime is why Sheriff Westbrook hired me without a face-to-face interview. Everything was done over video chat.” She blew on her drink.
He couldn’t argue that. The town had needed more law enforcement for a while now. “You must have a good record.”
“I do.” She smiled, sending his heart somersaulting. “Who’s the men in the picture on the mantel?”
“My father and his two brothers, Buford and Buck. They’re twins. Buck died a few years ago, leaving me this vineyard. Buford lives higher on the mountain and stays pretty much to himself.”
“This is a big place for you alone.”
“True, but it’s where my dad and his brothers were raised. Someday, I hope to fill it with a family of my own.” Once he found the right woman anyway.
“What does the surviving uncle do?”
“He has a share in the winery. Uncle Buford used to be mayor of Misty Hollow years ago.” Zeke left off the fact his uncle now drank too much and rarely left his home except to go to the bar.
Her gaze remained on the photo. Even from where he stood, he saw her features harden before she lifted the mug to her lips.
Suspicion rose. Why the interest in his family? It’s almost as if she knew about his uncles before arriving. Had Buford wronged her or her family in some way? It wouldn’t be the first time. The man had made a lot of enemies during his time as mayor and even more afterward.
“I’m ready for bed. I’ll give you a ride to your place in the morning.” He rose to his feet and carried both mugs to the kitchen where he set them in the sink.
“Thank you again, Zeke.”
“No problem.” He forced a smile to his face. “Sleep well.” There was no way he would even think of getting to know this woman until he discovered the real reason she was here.
Because messing with Buford meant trouble.
- Publisher : Winged Publications
- Publication date : July 13, 2022
- Language : English
- Print length : 232 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1956654550
- ISBN-13 : 978-1956654554