1. Lucy

Chapter 1

Lucy

I never should have left my house. More importantly, I should have deleted all the dating apps from my phone, like I’d promised myself. But sadly, there was still a little glimmer of hope in my heart, and I had stupidly agreed to meet my latest attempt at a happily ever after at my favorite taco place for dinner.

I should have known better. Past experiences should have predicted how this evening would go. We’d meet, exchange pleasantries, tuck into some food, maybe have a drink. But then I’d find out he was only out for a bit of “fun,” or he was living in his mother’s basement and looking for a new mommy to take care of him. I’d also had enough of men who already had a wife; I mean, really? Bad tippers, bad manners, bad hygiene, bad, bad, bad. I need to stick to my man ban. Being alone was better.

The date had lasted ten minutes. He informed me women should always wear dresses and heels on a first date. Then he said my butt was too big for the jeans I had on. He didn’t like it when women wore dark lipstick and joked that I should have made more of an effort to impress him. So, I wasted what remained of my delicious margarita on his face, ordered takeout tacos, and got the hell out of there. Men were good for nothing but trouble, and I was done with all of them.

That last glimmer of hope was dead now, killed by yet another terrible date.

RIP, hope. It was nice knowing you.

Seriously, all I had wanted was to line up a second date, which, in retrospect, was a bad idea. New Year’s Eve was coming up, and I wanted a midnight kiss. It was getting close, and I’d never had one. Something about starting the new year with a kiss—with hope—felt like the change I needed.

So much for that.

My only consolation was the bag of tacos I had bought to comfort myself when I got home. I should be putting my feet up on the coffee table, binge-watching something mindless, wearing my pajamas, and enjoying my freedom to do whatever the hell I wanted right now.

Instead, I was half-buried in a leftover snowbank, huddled inside my car with nothing but a sad bag full of tacos and a whole lot of regret to keep me company.

Thank goodness I was able to spin into this colossal pile of leftover fluffy white bull crap after I lost control on that patch of ice a half mile back, or I’d probably have hit the median or a freaking tree. I could be dead or unconscious right now.

Sadly, both those things might be preferable to this illogical panic that had settled into my soul over the last ten minutes. I was freaking out, and I would never live this down, not ever.

I was a local, for elf’s sake—born and raised in Honeybrook Hollow, Oregon, one of the little villages that dotted the side of the highway on the way up to Mt. Hood. Now, I was just another dumbass stuck in a ditch, no better than an out-of-towner on a ski trip. But worse than being stuck, I panicked as if I hadn’t had a grand old time hiking through this stupid forest for fun. Granted, I rarely hiked at night or in the winter. Maybe I should cut myself a break. And maybe I should never take a back road ever again. I’d stick to the highway from now on.

I took another peek outside.

Could darkness loom?

More specifically, could it hover with menacing intent outside a car window?

Stop it, Lucy.

But I’m stuck out here, and my cell phone has no signal, and it’s dark as pitch, and I’m pissed off and scared, damn it.

I touched my cell phone screen, craving the little bit of light it provided. Unfortunately, there was still no signal, so I could not call for help. Of all the nights to be without service, it had to be this one.

The snow had lightly fallen for hours. When I left, it was the pretty, fluffy kind that sparkled but didn’t stick. I ignored the steady increase as I drove down the mountain.

Damn it, I couldn’t even sit here and eat the freaking tacos because fear had twisted my gut into a pathetic knot, and I’d lost my appetite. I glanced at the bag with a derisive snort.

I had to quit freaking out. It was useless.

Forget your feelings.

Think of the tacos.

Think of going home and getting into a piping hot bubble bath with the tacos. You don’t need some dumb-ass man in your life.

With a sudden surge of bravery, I grabbed my emergency snow shovel from the floorboard and got out to dig out the rear end. I could turn on my flashers and hopefully be seen by a passerby. The flashers weren’t doing me any good buried beneath the snow, and I didn’t want to turn the car back on until the exhaust was cleared.

I created enough space to restart the vehicle safely, but there was no way I could dig myself out completely. The front end was completely buried and likely damaged.

Headlights in the distance gave me hope but it quickly faded as the car sped past. I shook my head in dismay. First, they were going way too fast for the road conditions, and second, what the heck? How had they not noticed my flashers? Or me ?

The following cars drove right by as if I wasn’t even there. And anyone driving this late on this road had to be a local. They were lucky it was too dark for me to recognize their cars, because— rude.

I considered walking home. But walking alone alongside a dark and frigid mountain road was never a good idea. Heck, standing out here was probably stupid. I mean, I’d seen enough horror movies throughout my life to know absolutely everything about my current situation was precarious.

My grandma once told me I could light up a room, and we all know what happens to people who could do that.

I was in prime serial killer hunting grounds right now. My cousin Remy was a forest ranger. Get a few beers into him down at Twilight Trails Tavern, and he’d start spitting all kinds of forest facts that no one wanted to hear about.

Do you know how many bodies are found here each year? I shuddered at the thought. The Mt. Hood National Forest was pretty much a graveyard for hikers with no sense of direction, people who a rabid animal had attacked—seriously, watch out for squirrels, they aren’t your friends—and victims of who knew what kind of crimes. They’d also found abandoned cars out here too—like mine. I was so screwed.

My heart rate skyrocketed as I contemplated how much trouble I was in. It was so freaking cold, and I was not dressed to be outside like this—my mother’s lectures about proper winter attire echoed in my head as I rubbed my cold hands over my upper arms and tried to stop my teeth from chattering. I blew into my hands and looked helplessly up the road.

I was not about to become some frostbitten dead body to be discovered by Ranger Remy and his buds on one of their hikes, then told as a drunken warning story in a bar. No way, not this girl.

I climbed back into the driver’s seat and locked the door to wait for help. Snow was melting in my hair; the icy drip of it went down the back of my hoodie, and I shivered. All I had to warm myself with was a ratty old blanket in the back seat. With a reach, I grabbed it and wrapped myself up. The twin olfactory delights of motor oil and dirty tire odor assaulted me as I inhaled a deep breath to calm my ricocheting heartbeat.

I looked up as sloppy, wet snowflakes plopped on my windshield.

A light dusting of snow, my ass.

This was not supposed to be happening right now. The weather report was wrong. I trusted you, Skipper McFadden! If I survived, I would send a strongly worded letter to him and his team of so-called meteorologists. I swear I could see ice forming on the road.

Hopefully, someone I knew would stop, and I could convince them to keep my tragic little dating foray out of the town gossip circles—the Honeybrook Hollow busybodies would have a field day with this. I also said a silent prayer that I didn’t lose the rest of my mind while I waited for help or for my cell signal to come back. The power must be out. Or a cell phone tower or whatever. Frustration got the better of me, and I slammed my hand on the center console.

The last thing I needed was for word of this to get out. My mother was already overprotective. I mean, I was thirty-three years old, a fully grown woman, and she still gave me crap if I didn’t text her every evening to say goodnight and let her know I was still alive. The thought of me stranded on the side of the road all night in the dark might give her a heart attack.

Hopefully someone from Cassidy’s Automotive would happen to drive by in one of their tow trucks, and I could give them an extra big tip in exchange for their silence. They were known to cruise these roads in their huge trucks all winter. Each year, they made a killing by pulling people out of snowbanks and ditches and towing them to safety. They served the entire area from Sweetbriar to Honeybrook Hollow and all the way up the mountain to the Timberline Lodge.

Just as long as it wasn’t Spencer.

Spencer Cassidy and I were in the same grade all through school, except for first grade, and I’d had a tiny, little, hopeless crush on him since forever. I had to be losing it if I was thinking of him right now.

He was that old high school crush that never went away but had gotten worse as an adult, probably because the fantasy I’d built up of him in my mind was so much better than my reality. Add to that, he’d only seemed to get more handsome as the years went on—taller, broader, more muscular. And his blue eyes? Irresistible. We rarely spoke beyond a “Hey, how are you?” But after each interaction, I always ended up kicking myself for not letting him know I was into him.

Well, at least if I were close to death, my last memory would be a happy one. Ahh, Spencer Cassidy, you have no idea how much you have unwittingly impacted my life.

I heaved out a huge sigh and rechecked my phone. No bars. No help. No hope.

Except…

I spun in my seat as headlights in the distance behind me lit up my car. I slowly turned to watch as they passed, slowed down, and backed up to stop in front of my vehicle. I stared into the glare—dare I get my hopes up?

I squinted into the light. It was a red tow truck, and the Cassidy’s Automotive logo was emblazoned in bright white script across the rear. My salvation was near. I could feel it in my partially frozen bones.

YES!

All the Cassidy trucks were painted fire engine red, and there was no mistaking them around here.

It looked like I wouldn’t freeze to death tonight, after all. I let out a massive sigh of relief and counted to ten as I attempted to gather my thoughts and contain my almost panic attack.

I watched as a man, tall and broad, got out. As he headed my way, I decided I didn’t even care if it was Spencer. All I wanted was to go home, run as hot a bath as I could stand, and finally eat these damn tacos. Cold or not, it would be the best snack of my life.

The tap, tap, tap on the window sent a surge of anticipatory awareness through my body as I watched, squinting into the glare of the taillights as he got closer and closer until?—

Of course.

It was Spencer and not one of his brothers or even his father.

Okay, I admit it. I lied.

I did care that it was him so much .

Way too much when I thought of how many years had passed since we were back at Sweetbriar High together. I had sat next to or behind him in every class because his last name was Cassidy, and mine was Darlington, and most of our teachers had put us in alphabetical order. I was pretty sure the back of his head would be embedded in my mind for all eternity.

Sometimes, he would go a few weeks too long between haircuts, and his hair would get wavy. The way it curled over his collar was magical; it looked so soft. The great tragedy of my life was that I’d never be able to run my fingers through it.

I heaved out a sigh.

At this point, pining from afar was second nature to me. When it came to dating, friendships, love, and relationships, I always went in with an open mind and heart, hoping to find someone who would really see me, someone who would appreciate who I was and who might grow to love me. Yet each time, I came away losing another slice of my confidence and heart and retreated further into myself.

Maybe that’s why dating wasn’t fun anymore. I needed to find my spark. With each failed try, my desire to let myself be vulnerable had faded further away.

I heaved another dramatic sigh and lowered my window as he approached.

“Hey, Spencer,” I mumbled without looking up at him.

“Lucy? Is that you?” He hunkered down with bent knees, leaning his arms on my open window. Snowflakes clung to his hair as he smiled at me softly, with his eyes filled with concern. “I thought I recognized your car. I haven’t seen you around town in a while. What are you doing out this late? Are you okay?”

He recognized my car? How on earth would he know what kind of car I drove? And how would he know I haven’t been in town lately? I was on deadline, writing my latest Larry the Llama children’s book until last week, meaning I’d been living off coffee and takeout. The light of day was something I had not seen in months.

I wrinkled my nose in confusion, struggling to find something to say to him.

A shiver shot through me at the very idea of being recognized by him, of being seen . But I shut it down before my juvenile imagination could run even wilder than it already was. How very high school of me.

“Indeed it is I, Lucy Darlington, the first. Much to my shame.” I rolled my lips between my teeth, hoping to stem the flow of nonsense words that decided to pop out of nowhere in a crisp, British accent. My cheeks heated enough to thaw the snowbank surrounding my poor car. Why am I like this?

His gorgeous blue eyes lit up in amusement. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Getting stuck in the snow up here happens to all of us at some point. It’s inevitable, like a rite of passage. No one was expecting this much snow. It wasn’t in the forecast.”

“Right, I totally didn’t expect this.” I waved a hand around for emphasis. “I never would have left the house. Freaking Skipper McFadden.”

“Oh yeah, he’s clueless. Hey, is that Taco Time? I’m starving. I’ll trade you a taco for a tow.”

“I would be happy to share my tacos. But I seriously doubt something like this has ever happened to you. There is no way you’ve been stuck up here.”

He shrugged as a grin tipped up the corner of his luscious mouth. “Only because I’m usually driving one of these tow trucks. Come on, let me help you. No charge for old friends.”

Old friends. I’d take it.

I grabbed my purse and the tacos and opened the door, shuddering from the sudden sharp blast of cold and the warm grip of his hand as I slid mine into his. What a gentleman. A tall, dark, and hot, ripped to shreds, sexy gentleman. I’d seen him jogging around Honeybrook Hollow from time to time. I knew about all those muscles he was hiding under his winter jacket, thank you very much.

He led me to the truck, which was pulled as far to the side as he could. “It’s quite a way up. Let me help you.”

“Thanks.” He opened the driver’s door for me, holding me by my elbow as I put a foot on the running board.

“Steady now.” His hand tightened, sliding to my upper arm as he took the taco bag from my other hand.

“How do you manage to get up here all the time?” I asked as I struggled to hoist my leg far enough to climb. My jeans were too tight, dang it. They were wet and sticking to me too.

He let out a chuckle. “I’m six foot five. What are you? About five four?”

“Something like that,” I murmured as I clambered into the cab and over the console to settle into the passenger seat.

I was five three without shoes and reaching things on high shelves without some type of assistance was not one of my strengths.

“Here ya go.” He passed me the bag and my purse with a wink. “Save one for me.”

Trying my best to ignore the wink, I answered. “I’ll let you have them all if you can get me home. Thank you, Spencer. I really appreciate this. I had no idea what I was going to do. Panic was about to set in. I was this close.”

He chuckled as I held my thumb and pointer a half inch apart for reference.

“I’m glad I happened by. It’s late, and the thought of you being out here alone is, um—yeah. I don’t much like that thought. Anything could happen on this road.” He let out a breath before continuing. “Tacos are awesome, but getting stuck in a snowbank is not. I’m not trying to lecture you. Just keep that in mind for next time.”

“I’ve already learned my lesson. There will be no more after-dark excursions to Taco Time. At least not in winter, believe me. And hey, can we keep this between the two of us?”

I didn’t mention my unfortunate date. No one needed to know about that.

“Absolutely. These lips are sealed.” He mimed turning a key in a lock over his grinning lips. “I won’t say a word. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“Thanks.” I breathed, stupidly thrilled at the notion of sharing a secret with him. Even one as innocent as this.

“Put this on.” He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to me.

“I couldn’t. What about you? Then you’ll be cold.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big guy.” He held it up, not taking no for an answer. I turned and let him help me slide into it.

It was huge. And warm. And it smelled like him—sandalwood, spice, and the crisp, clean scent of the icy fresh air outside. I almost groaned out loud but managed to refrain.

“Thank you. Freezing to death was becoming a real concern.”

“Not on my watch. You’re going to be home and safe before you know it.”