6. Coal Bank Pass

Noah jabbed the rewind arrow on the audio display and cranked up the volume on the Pirate History Podcast as he fought his way through a spring snowstorm raging outside his truck. The blizzard matched his bleak mood. Maybe immersing himself in tales of marauding, scurvy dogs being gibbeted would lift his spirits. The narrator's smooth voice had the power to blunt the sharp tones in his head; too bad he couldn't concentrate enough to let the hypnotic baritone work its magic.

Soon enough he'd reach the summit of Coal Bank Pass with just enough gas left in the tank to get him to his front door without having to make a stop. Another hour, maybe more in this weather.

He'd been in Denver for days, staying with Wyatt and Serena the first night until he'd realized how much commotion whirled around a household with new twins—a boy and a girl—and how his presence had been like a speed bump slowing everyone down. He'd wanted to hang with his cousin, but that hadn't been an option either. When Wyatt hadn't been preoccupied with his family, he'd been hyper-focused on the upcoming playoffs, leaving little social bandwidth.

Besides an excuse to visit Wyatt and his family, Noah had traveled to the big city to find new vendors. His regular suppliers had become less reliable, and the record-breaking weather that had dumped on the Rockies this winter had made the situation even more challenging. Spring was only a week away, but March was historically the state's snowiest month, with April coming in solid second place.

Nothing about the trip had gone well. All but one of the companies he'd courted had turned him down. They were struggling to get their local customers what they needed and couldn't add a new one on the other side of the Divide, they'd claimed. The only one that hadn't rejected him outright had given him a tepid "maybe." Not encouraging.

His thoughts turned to the bomb dropped on him this morning before he'd fled Denver: he was being investigated for serving minors after someone filed a complaint. Noah had no doubt Bruno Keating had struck on a new way to harass him, and while he hadn't done anything wrong, he would still have to spend precious time and energy defending himself against the bogus claim.

Damn that asshole!

A text popped up on the truck's screen. No message was displayed, but the familiar number pulled a groan from him nonetheless, reminding him of the rest of his disastrous trip. He poked the ignore button. If only he could as easily ignore the mess he'd created.

Fuck me. What an idiot he'd been.

He'd run into one of his exes waitressing at a bar—just like the first time he'd met her. Could Sandy be an ex, though, if they'd only dated a few weeks? Definitions aside, he'd screwed up royally when he'd accepted her offer to stay at her place. It would be easier on Wyatt and Serena, he'd reasoned. He'd further kidded himself that his relationship with Sandy had mellowed from sexual into platonic mode and staying with her wouldn't lead to anything. Then the biggest lie he'd sold himself: they were adults, and friends with benefits for a few days wouldn't rekindle the old flame. And he'd been right—about himself. Beyond the physical, sleeping with her once, then twice—and that brief third time—hadn't stirred anything remotely fire-like inside him because it had never been there in the first place.

But apparently it had been different for Sandy, and if he'd been thinking with his brain and not his dick, he would have picked up on the signs before letting her believe they were a couple—before she started laying plans for their future.

"We'll trade off months. You'll come and stay with me, and we'll have fun doing Denver stuff together. Then I'll come visit you in Fall River, and you can show me that part of the state. This is going to be so great, Noah," she'd sighed as they'd lain naked in her bed. Sated after a morning quickie, he'd been floating in a state of drowsiness, and her words had hit him like a bucket of ice.

He'd bolted soon after, spewing all kinds of excuses about forgotten obligations and needing to get back. Had he set her straight before his great escape? Nope. He'd run like the dumbass and chickenshit he was.

"At least I'm an overachiever at something," he groused.

The storm had picked up its velocity, but he was closing in on the final leg of the five-hour drive. Soon he'd be back in Fall River with its quirky buildings, quirkier characters, and familiar headaches. Sanctuary. Home.

Noah had just redirected his mind to the podcast when a dark shape darted in front of his front bumper. Reflexes kicked in, and he swerved on the snow-packed road to avoid hitting the moving target. The vehicle slid, and as he brought it under control, another form—upright this time—dashed across his path. He hadn't completely decelerated, and the truck's speed hampered his ability to correct its course. His tires hit the shoulder. Heart slamming inside his chest, he fought the steering wheel in a vain attempt to keep the truck on the highway. The front right tire went over the lip at the edge of the road, and he cranked the wheel in the opposite direction, causing the back end to spin as he overcompensated. The right rear tire slid off the edge. The truck tilted crazily, its hood pointing up as it went down the embankment backward. It bounced down the slope, shaking him as if he were on a scrambler in an amusement park, but there was nothing fun about this thrill ride. His seat belt locked him in place, cinching him hard against his seat, and he couldn't maneuver or see what was behind him.

Don't flip! Don't flip!

The pickup gave a final jolt as its rear end collided with an immovable object, bringing it to a sudden stop. He cut the engine and heaved in a breath to refill his now-empty lungs.

"Shit!" he croaked, heart slamming against his rib cage. Releasing his seat belt, he looked out his rear window. The vehicle's back end rested against the trunk of a giant ponderosa at the bottom of a wide ditch. Swinging his gaze to the front confirmed the truck's nose pointed up toward the road.

His chest heaved with rapid-fire breaths, and sweat beaded his hairline. Gingerly, he opened his door; it groaned in protest. He slid out, pulling on a knit cap and grabbing his parka. His boots connected with solid ground, and relief washed over him … until he got a closer look at his crumpled tailgate and blown-out rear tires.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"Are you all right?" a panicky voice called down from the road.

He whipped his head up. Two shapes stood silhouetted against a backdrop of swirling snowflakes where he'd left the road. One, a human outline, was bent to the side and held on to the other form. He shrugged on his coat and marched up the slope. When he reached the human—a mid-twenty-ish woman—he towered over her. Most of her face was covered by a fur-trimmed gray hood, but her pallor telegraphed she was scared or in shock. Either her eyes had drained of color too or they were the palest blue he'd ever seen. Leaning toward a shivering dog, her hand clutched what appeared to be a belt around the animal's neck.

Noah could barely contain his seething temper. "Was that your dog that ran in front of my truck?"

"No, it's not my dog," her soft voice came out in a quaver. "It was lying on the side of the road, so I pulled over to help, and it ran from me." Her eyes were glued to the pathetic animal.

Noah's anger backstepped, though his volume went up a few decibels. "So then you ran in front of me? You couldn't wait for me to pass by?"

"The snow was so thick I didn't see you until it was too late."

"I could have hit you!"

"I know, and I'm sorry." Her voice grew more conciliatory even as his got louder. "Are you all right?" she repeated, blinking tiny crystal flakes from long golden-brown lashes.

Snow slid down the back of his neck, leaving a trail of icy prickles. "I'm fine, but my King Ranch isn't." He threw out a hand. "It isn't even two years old!"

She flinched and leaned away from him. "Um, double sorry? You have insurance, right?"

"Insurance isn't going to get me home," he snarled.

The space between her brows puckered. "We'll exchange contact information, and you can give mine to your insurance company." She spoke slowly, as if he might be an idiot. "I'll tell them it wasn't your fault." This statement ended in a question.

He leveled her with a glower. "And how exactly will that help me get my truck out of the ditch?"

"Can't you just, you know, put it in four-wheel low and get it out?" She seemed truly mystified.

He let out a mirthless laugh. "Lady, even if I could ‘get it out' myself, I have two blown tires and only one spare."

She chewed her lower lip. "There's no cell reception up here, but I can call a towing service when I get to the bottom of the pass and send someone for you," she offered unhelpfully.

He gaped at her. "Seriously? And what am I supposed to do while you drive down the mountain and find someone to tow me out? That's if you can find someone, which is doubtful in thisstorm. There aren't that many wreckers around here, and the ones that are operating right now will be working around the clock with the state patrol getting wrecks out of the way so they don't cause more wrecks. I could be stuck here for days. The way I see it, you're my quickest—and only—way out of here."

She didn't answer, and he ran on. "You're not from around here, are you?"

The dog whimpered and strained against her hold on him. "I have to get this dog out of the cold." She turned to leave.

"Where's your car?"

She stopped and pivoted. "Why?" She dragged the word out, lending it more than the one syllable.

"Because your passenger also needs to get out of the cold." He flicked a hand toward the road and tightened his collar around his neck. "Lead on."

Panic flickered in her light eyes. "But … what if someone tries to steal your truck?"

"You're kidding, right? It's off the road, in a ditch, where no one can see it. Besides, no tires, remember?" he gritted out. "I'm riding down the hill with you."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, and he braced himself for her protest. Just as it dawned on Noah she might be afraid of him, the dog slipped his makeshift collar and bolted for the road. She let out a little cry, and without thinking, Noah took off after the dog, now just a shadow plunging through the white curtain of snow. He let out a string of blistering curses as he went.

I'm as big a dumbass as she is for trying to catch a dog that obviously doesn't want to be caught.

He reached the opposite shoulder and scrambled down another ditch, nearly stumbling over the dog, who lay prone on the ground beneath a wide pine limb. Oh shit! Was it dead? No, its chest moved rapidly.

Thank fuck!

Noah approached cautiously. The dog didn't fight him when he lifted it against his body.The thing was lighter than it looked, made up of fur and bony limbs.

The woman appeared out of the storm. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know. I don't see any blood."

Together they hurried across the still empty highway, and she directed him toward an old white Toyota 4Runner barely visible through the veil of snow. She opened the hatchback, frantically shoving items out of the way, straightening a blanket over the cargo area. Noah laid the dog inside.

He got his first whiff of the animal. "Whoa! This thing stinks."

"Most wet dogs do." She leaned in and slipped the belt around the animal's neck before closing the hatchback carefully.

Noah blew on his icy hands. "What's with the belt?"

"He didn't have a collar. It was the only thing I had to corral him with."

On their own, Noah's eyes drifted down to the waistband of her jeans, visible through her partly open puffy coat. A thin sweater covering a flat abdomen disappeared beneath said waistband. Sure enough, no belt.

She motioned toward the other side of the SUV and grumbled, "Get in."

Wow! Grateful much?Then again, she was alone, probably shook up, and he outweighed her by at least seventy pounds. Little did she know she was as safe with him as she would be with a nun. No, safer. He could protect her better than a nun—not that he'd need to.

He jumped into the passenger seat, nearly smashing his knees against the dashboard. What the hell had he done to piss off the universe today?

Beside him, she slid off her hood, revealing a tangle of thick honey-blond hair. Fresh scrubbed, she looked younger than he'd first guessed. She reminded him of one of the 4-H kids from high school.

"I'm Noah Hunnicutt. Thanks for the ride."

"Thanks for not hitting me," she squeaked. "And for helping me catch Rover."

"Rover?"

The animal whimpered from the cargo area.

She shook her head. "A placeholder name. I didn't want to just call him ‘Dog.'"

"And so I don't have to just call you ‘Girl,' do you have a different name you'd like me to use, placeholder or otherwise?"

Pleats formed between her caramel brows. "I'm older than I look."

"Sorry. Can I call you something besides ‘Woman'?"

"Hailey. My name's Hailey Bailey."

"Hailey Bailey," he repeated, trying not to sputter with a laugh.

"My dad thought it was funny," she groused. "My sister is Kaylee." She turned the key, and the vehicle seemed to cough. She pumped the gas pedal and twisted the key again. No cough this time, but a supremely pathetic wheeze that died out. "Oh no, oh no, oh no! Do not go Friday the 13th on me!"

"Friday the 13th?" Was she expecting Jason Voorhees to spring from the trees and murder them?

"Yes," she growled and cranked again. The starter gave up after two whirring noises. She threw her head against the backrest. "I was referring to bad luck."

He schooled his rising dismay. "Can I try?"

"Be my guest." She snatched the key from the ignition, only handing it to him once they'd swapped places. This girl was taking no chances he might steal her car, though he could have easily tossed her out and stolen it anyway … if he could get it to run.

After several unsuccessful attempts to get the SUV running, he wrestled his phone from his pocket.

She pointed at his device. "There's no cell service."

"Maybe not for you." He poked at Micky's number and waited. Nothing. He tried again, twice, with no luck. "Apparently not for me either."

He dialed Charlie's number and held his breath. Two silent beats passed, and the phone finally rang. His brother picked up on the third ring. "Yo, bro. What's up?"

"I'm stuck at the top of Coal Bank Pass with two flat tires."

"How the hell did you—"

"Never mind how it happened. I tried calling Micky, but it didn't go through. Can one of you come haul my ass out?" He darted a look toward Hailey, who sat as rigid as her car, staring at the snow-crusted windshield.

"Not anytime soon. I'm stranded in Grand Junction. This blizzard is wreaking all kinds of havoc. I just heard on the radio that CDOT is closing a bunch of roads."

"Well, shit! Can you call Micky?"

"In case he's sitting on his ass, not pulling other wrecks off the road?"

Noah deflated. "He knows other tow operators. Maybe one of them can help."

"I'll give him a shout as soon as we hang up. I'll call Reece too. You okay otherwise?"

"For now."

They ended the call, and Noah tried the ignition again. The thing didn't even gasp; it was deader than the granite peaks surrounding them. An ominous quiet settled in like a shroud, and it occurred to him no vehicle had passed in the last twenty minutes.

"Maybe it's the battery?" Hailey offered.

"Which doesn't help. I've got jumper cables, but I can't get my truck up here, and rolling yours down the embankment is too risky."

Hailey wrapped her coat tightly around herself and made to leave the cab.

"Where are you going?"

"Into the backseat to check on Rover." She slid out the passenger door and in through the back passenger door. Folding a seat down, she perched on the edge and reached toward the dog, whose only sign of life was the rise and fall of his chest. "I can't tell if he's hurt. Maybe he needs water."

She began rummaging around when Noah's phone rang.

"What'd you find out?" he barked at Charlie.

"Micky … all night … law enforce … other wreckers … crashed."

"Dude, you're breaking up!"

"… tow … pull ... jacked up."

"Our connection sucks."

"… bad … shut … Coal ..."

Noah gusted out a frustrated exhale. Though he hadn't heard all of Charlie's words, the gist was clear. He and Hailey would be stuck for a while.

"Charlie, if you can hear me, I'm not alone." He glanced at the rearview mirror, and his eyes caught on Hailey's pale ones staring right back at him. "I have Bailey, er, Hailey and her dog. She broke down."

" … beacon … safe …" Charlie's voice crackled and finally stopped.

Noah yelled his name into the phone, but the call was over. Behind him, worry lines furrowed Hailey's forehead. With her slight mass, she would soon be chilled to the bone. "Let's head back to my truck. It's our best shelter." Why hadn't he filled up his tank before heading up the pass? He'd been too anxious to get home and cocky enough to believe he could make it on what he had.

The deepening pleats between her brows had him rushing to add, "I'll fire up the engine, and we can run the heater and charge our phones." They were going to need them.

"What happens if you run out of fuel?"

"I should have enough to get us through the night."

Her eyes widened. "You think we'll be here all night?"

"It's a possibility. I'm pretty sure the road's closed—which explains why we haven't seen any traffic—and this storm's just getting started. I've got a go-bag with some supplies—"

A shiver rippled through her. "So do I."

"Good. We'll bring that too. Meanwhile, have you got anything bright we can tie to your antenna?"

She slid a hot pink bandanna from a pocket and handed it to him. "What about the dog?"

Noah dropped his head, raised it again, and offered her a half-smile. "After all the trouble you went through to save him, it wouldn't make sense to leave him behind and let him freeze to death."

Her stiff shoulders seemed to melt, as if a great weight had left her body. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet."