The Hitchhiker

IT'S SNOWING HARD OUTSIDE the car. But my cheeks are burning with the sheer stupidity of what I've done. I should be in survival mode right now, but all I can think of is how he's making me feel so dreadfully and shamefully weak.

"Just do as I say, and you won't get hurt."

"Says the person with a gun."

"You weren't supposed to know I had one."

"My sincerest apologies. I wasn't aware being observant is a crime now."

The banter between us makes me want to knock my head against the dashboard. It's as if we're playing out a scene from a rom-com...when in reality, one of us is being held at gunpoint.

It's those violet eyes of his, darn it.

They're weapons of masculine destruction, just like the rest of him is.

He's more formidable than big, more sinister than dangerous, and...that's why I absolutely have no excuse to suddenly find myself in a car with him.

Idiot, idiot, idiot!

"Take a right turn there, please."

What's done is gone, I remind myself forcefully. So just focus on getting out of this in one piece.

" And left now, please."

"A hitchhiker with manners."

"We come in all shapes and sizes. And another left, please."

" Ah ."

"What does that mean?"

My stomach starts twisting in knots, and my hands feel clammy inside my gloves. All I see outside is snow against a vast sheet of darkness, made only visible when struck by the twin blazes of the car's headlights.

"Bucks is the only establishment up this road."

A violent gust of wind batters the side of the car, and my heart starts pounding against my chest.

"You know it?"

"Acquainted with it."

"Acquainted..."

"It means—-"

"I know what it means."

"But you just didn't expect a cowboy like me would. Is that it?"