Snow Baby

“CHANTEL! IT’S ME, Dillon!”

Dillon wiped all the snow off the window and flashed his light inside. It had to be her car. How many smashed Jags could there be with one dim headlight still reflecting off the white flakes falling from the sky?

“Dillon?” He heard her voice through the glass and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d found her! He couldn’t believe it. He’d turned around and tried to drive back to the freeway, but he hadn’t been able to leave her behind. And now he was elated to think he’d beaten the odds.

She fumbled with the lock and opened the door, and he pulled her out and into his arms.

Pressing her cold face against the warmth of his neck, she held him tightly.

“You all right?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, just clung to him, and he realized she was crying.

“Hey, what kind of a welcome is this?”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, drawing back to swipe at her eyes. “I just, I just…” She began to shake from the cold, and he knew he had to get her warm and dry—as quickly as possible.

“Let’s go. You got anything else in there we can use to keep you warm?”

She shook her head. “I’m wearing everything I’ve g-got.”

He chuckled at her mismatched and odd-fitting layers. “Good girl. We’re out of here, then.”

He took off his ski hat and settled it on her blond head, carefully covering her ears. Then he shoved her hands in the leather gloves he’d been using.

“My hands b-b-burn,” she complained.

“That’s good. At least you can feel them.” Then he saw her feet. “Where the hell are your shoes?”

She blinked down at her toes. “They were w-wet. I had to t-take them off.”

“You have to put them back on, at least until we make it to my Landcruiser.” He reached inside the car for her tennis shoes.

When he finished tying her shoelaces, she glanced around and frowned. “Where’s your truck?”

He raised his brows, wondering how to tell her the truth of the situation. “You’re not still worried that I’m an ax murderer, are you?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that my Landcruiser’s stuck. We’re not going to get out of here tonight.” He grabbed her cell phone from the car, took her hand, and started to pull her over to where he’d left his vehicle. “But the good news is, you’re no longer alone.”

“That’s not such g-good news for you,” she said.

He grinned and looked back at her, admiring the unique shape of her amber-colored eyes. “It’s not as bad as you might think.”

CHANTEL LET DILLON lead her up the side of a sharp incline through waist-deep snow. Pine trees stood all around them, tops bending and limbs swaying as they fought the same wind that flung ice crystals into her face. Her clothes and shoes were soaked through, and even with gloves on her hands, she didn’t have enough body heat to warm her fingers. Never had she been so cold, not in ten years of New York winters.

She slipped and fell, and Dillon hauled her back to her feet. “Come on, we’ve got to hurry. I don’t want you to get frostbite,” he said, pulling her more forcefully behind him.

Chantel angled her face up to see through the trees in front of them. Other than the small circle from Dillon’s flashlight, everything was completely dark. The falling snow obliterated even the moon’s light, but the night wasn’t silent. The wind alternately whined and howled, and tree limbs scratched and clawed at each other.

“Are you sure you know wh-where we’re going?” she called. It felt as though they were scaling a mountain, heading deeper into the forest, instead of toward civilization.

“I’m taking a more direct route, but we’ll get there.”

“I d-don’t think I can walk any farther.” The air smelled like cold steel, not the pine she’d been anticipating, and suddenly Chantel wondered why she’d ever wanted to go to Tahoe in the first place. She had enough to take care of in the valley. She wasn’t ready to deal with the issues between her and Stacy yet.

“We gotta keep moving. It’s not much farther.” Dillon sheltered her with his large body and tugged persistently at her arm.

“I’m freezing!”

“So am I. Come on, Chantel, we need to keep walking. Talk to me. That’ll keep our minds off the cold.”

She looked at the man who’d risked his life to save her. Hadn’t she wrecked his car earlier? Yet here he was, trudging through the snow, pulling her along, telling her to talk to him. Without him…

Chantel didn’t want to think about what might have happened without him. “You’re c-crazy, Dillon. Why didn’t you leave me?”

“Freud would probably say I’m trying to prove my masculinity.”

She thought he was smiling but couldn’t see his face in the darkness. “There are easier ways to do that.”

He laughed. “I’ve always had to do things the hard way. My poor mother used to shake her head in exasperation and tell me how wonderful my sisters were to raise.”

“F-F-Freud would probably have something to say about that, t-t-too.”

“No doubt. Only I don’t think being a troublemaker has anything to do with my sexuality.”

“I think it’s the t-testosterone. My c-cousin once kicked a hole in the wall when I put him down for a nap.”

Dillon paused. “How old was he?”

“Three. It was my f-fault, really. I forgot to take off his cowboy boots.”

Dillon put his arms around her waist and half carried her over a fallen log. “Your cousin’s my kind of kid. But girls can be hellions, too. My littlest is a spitfire.”

“How many—” Chantel could barely form the words “—children do you have?”

“Two girls, nine and seven.”

She pictured him with a couple of dark-haired, blue-eyed daughters. If they looked anything like their father, they would be beautiful. “So you’re m-married?”

“Divorced.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“So am I.”

Chantel fell silent again. She had no strength left.