Catch Me If You Can (7 page)

It was only after he’d zipped up the flannel-lined,
heavy canvas jacket he’d bummed off of Jace before
leaving, and tugged on the gloves he’d tossed aside a few hours back, that he thought to look back at what had sent him off the road in the first place. Visibility was poor bordering on nonexistent with his headlights aiming in the wrong direction. But
he could distinctly make out…
something.

Swearing under his breath, he shut off the engine and got out of the car. If he couldn’t dig out, he had to at least clear out a small area around the tailpipe if he wanted to be able to run the engine periodically for heat. He shivered hard and tucked his hands beneath his armpits as he began trekking back the thirty or so yards to the shadow blocking the road. He had to duck his chin to keep the snowflakes from stinging his eyes. He had on leather boots that had seen better days and his toes quickly began to feel the chill. He’d packed his winter boots in his duffel. Which was also in the trunk.

The call of the rain forest grew stronger with every step.

But, even freezing his ass off and stranded miles from the nearest town, he couldn’t quite convince himself that he’d made a mistake coming here. Not yet, anyway.

About five yards out, he realized that the dark lump was actually a vehicle, half covered with snow. It was a small pickup of sorts, white, which is why he hadn’t seen it clearly. The back end was sticking up at an odd angle, jutting directly into the path of traffic. Had it been clear weather, he could have easily avoided it, but coming around a corner like that, with the dark and reduced visibility, it had looked as if it were right in front of him. On closer examination, the front end of the truck was pitched at a downward angle beyond the edge of the road. The wheel he could see was half off the edge of the road, which meant the passenger-side wheel on the opposite side was probably no longer in contact
with the ground. All he could see beyond the road’s edge was a swirl of gloom and blowing snowflakes.

It was impossible to see how far down the mountainside the truck would have plunged, but if the skid had continued a few inches farther the driver would have found out. The engine wasn’t running, no lights were on. And there were no flares stuck on the roadway. Though, judging from the amount of snow already accumulated in the open truck bed, the accident might have happened some time back. For all he knew, the flares or danger signs had long since been swallowed in the snow. Which, on the side of the road, was piling up over his calves and edging kneeward.

“Hello?” he called out, but with the wind and weather, even a shout didn’t travel very far. He carefully drew closer, not wanting to slip and slide his way over the edge. But he wanted to make sure no one was hurt inside the vehicle. “Although what good that will do either of us, I have no idea,” he grumbled. Gingerly, he scuffed forward, making sure the soles of his boots stayed in as direct a contact with hard ground as possible. He swiped a sleeve
very carefully over the driver-
side window and tapped on the glass. “Hello?” He bent down to peer inside, not realizing how much he was dreading what he’d find until he spied the driver seat and sighed deeply when he saw it was empty. There was no one on the passenger side either, and no backseat to worry about. He glanced in the open truck bed, but the lumpy shapes beneath the snow weren’t the right size for a human body.

Good Samaritan deed done, he resolutely turned himself back to the other immediate problem: digging himself out. As he trudged back to his half-buried car, he wondered where the occupant of the truck had gone. Hopefully it had still been daylight, and not snowing yet. Maybe a rain-slick road was cause for the accident. The driver had probably hiked down into town or caught a ride in.

Which left him with the fun task of finding something suitable for digging out the rear tires. Or, barring that, at least clearing out the tailpipe so he could stay warm through the night. Digging with his hands, clad in nothing more than his meager leather driving gloves,
was not much of an option. Partl
y because his fingers were already numb. But mostly because it would be pretty much like trying to hand scoop water from a quickly flooding boat.

A quick rummage in the glove box yielded nothing of help. The oversized map book was briefly considered and rejected. The floor mat proved too unwieldy. He was contemplating trying to liberate the skinny license plate from the front bumper, when it occurred to him to go back and hunt around the bed of the truck. One of those lumps might actually be something useful.

The snow was beginning to accumulate rapidly on the road now as the storm seemed to be settling in for a good night’s run. If he didn’t dig out soon, it wouldn’t matter much. The Escort he’d rent
ed had proven to be a tough littl
e car on the steep inclines and winding roads in the mountains, but it didn’t have much in the way of ground cleara
nce, nor did it come with four-
wheel drive. He wished now he’d pushed a bit harder on having them locate a truck, but the look on the rental clerk’s face when he’d inquired about one had quickly disabused him of that idea. SUV’s weren’t too popular on this side of the pond as it turned out.

He dug around in the pile of snow in the rear of the truck, going by touch, sighing in relief when his fingers bumped up against a long wooden handle. “Please be a shovel,” he muttered. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a heavy garden rake. He struck out twice more with a post hole digger and an old straw broom. “Great, I’ll
just sweep my way clear.” He kept the broom out, though, thinking he could at least clear his windshield during the night to keep a lookout for oncoming vehicles. And the handle might prove helpful in clearing a tailpipe tunnel.

He went back to the hunt, careful not to lean on the truck or rock it in any way. The last thing he wanted to do was send it over the edge of the road. He wanted to meet the locals at some point, but that was not exactly the kind of welcome he was hoping for.

He ended
up using the broomstick to gentl
y probe the far side of the truck bed, but between the dark and the snow, he had no idea what he was poking at. His hands, toes and nose were numb as he took the broom and turned back toward his car. Only to stop dead in his tracks. Someone stood not five yards away, heavily cloaked arms folded.

She motioned to the broom in his hand. “If you were planning on flying out on that thing, I have to warn you, the guarant
ee expired last month.” Her softl
y accented voice carried easily through the wind. It was strong, and if he
wasn’t mistaken, more than faintl
y amused. An intriguing combination that got his full male attention, despite the surreal nature of the situation.

“I think all flights have been grounded due to weather anyway,” he responded. He gestured toward the truck. “Yours? Or are you just out for an evening stroll?”

She lifted a mittened hand. “That and trying to get a signal on my mobile.”

He brightened. Maybe the evening wasn’t going to end with him sleeping pretzel style in his compact after all. “Any luck?”

She brushed snow from her face and it made him wish she’d step closer so he could see her more clearly. She was tall, but that was about all he could tell, with
her bundled head to toe. Whatever hair she had was tucked up beneath a tassled knit cap.

“I suppose the smart answer, given the circumstances, would be to say yes, absolutely,” she told him.
“
Two burly men will be here shortl
y to tow me out.”

“Don’t kid a man who’s lost all feeling in his toes.” He could have sworn she flashed a smile. It took a surprising amount of control to keep from stepping closer to find out for sure.

But rather than follow up with a witty rejoinder, she shifted gears. “Was that my fault?” she asked, motioning to his car. “I didn’t have anything to set out as a warning. I was hoping I was far enough o
ff the road.” She laughed a littl
e, in what sounded like relief. “Though I was just thankful I was still on enough of it to get out in one piece.”

“What happened?”

“Front tire blew coming around the bend. I almost—" She broke off as she looked past him at her truck, hanging so close to the edge. She hugged her arms closer and shook her head
.

T
ag was moving closer without even thinking about
it.

She put up a hand, stopping him a few short feet away. “Sorry. Don’t worry. I’m fine, really. I guess I’ve been operating on automatic pilot since it happened and looking at it now, it just kind of hit me how close
…
” She trailed off, looked at her truck, then smiled as she shook her head. “Guess it wasn’t my turn. But I’m sorry I got you stuck.”

Now that he could see her smile,
he wanted to see her eyes. Mostl
y he just wanted her to keep talking. He wasn’t typically seduced by an accent. Apparen
tl
y there were exceptions. Or his mind could be going numb along with the rest of him.

“Not your fault,” he said. “I should have taken the
turns more slowly. I guess I was just anxious to get into the next town and find a bed for the night.”

“Here visiting from the States?”

He nodded, locking his knees together as the shivers started to set in. He’d been okay when he’d been moving around, but standing in one place wasn’t such a good idea.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid Durnish, which you probably passed through a ways back, is it.”

“I was hoping Calyth—”

She was already shaking her head. “It’s hardly more than a bump in the road, though there are a few little shops right there at the heart of it.” She lifted a shoulder. “I’ve never really stopped there, so I could be wrong.” She cocked her head. “First time out of the city?”

Now it was his turn to smile, even though he could no longer feel his lips. “Not hardly.” He glanced back at his car. “But, since getting into town isn’t an option, I was planning on clearing out the tailpipe so I could run the heat off and on during the night. You’re welcome to join me. I don’t think you should risk getting in your truck.” He lifted his hands. “And you won’t have to worry about me making any untoward advances. I have no feeling left in my extremities at this point.”

She regarded him for a moment, then said, “Yes, that would slow things down a bit, wouldn’t it?”

There it was again, that sly amusement. He knew she realized she was in a potentially dangerous situation for a young woman, but she was handling it with an almost insouciant disregard. He rather liked that. Made him wish he’d met her under other circumstances. And that he hadn’t promised her he’d be on his best behavior. Despite being numb, she made him think about doing things that weren’t entirely civilized.

“Why don’t you wait in the car while I dig out a tunnel? You can have the backseat and I’ll take the front, if it would make you feel more comfortable.”

“Quite the gentl
eman Yank, aren’t you?” she said. “But I’m numb enough myself to take you up on your offer. Besides, it’s either trust you or freeze to death, isn’t it?”

“
Yes, well, it’s gratifying to know I can get a woman to choose me over certain death.”

She tucked her hands in her pockets and started toward his car. “Oh, I’m sure women choose you even when death isn’t certain.”

“
Thanks,” he said, falling into step behind her. “I think.”

Her laugh trailed behind her through the wind and falling snow. It made him curl his hands against the desire to reach for her, tug that cap off and see for himself what lay beneath. A long fall of hair? Or something short and spiky? For a tall woman, she had something of the nymph about her. Probably her playful smile, amused tone. From her stride, long-legged and sure, he’d bet she wasn’t slight of frame, no matter the bulk of the parka. Which likely played into her air of natural confidence, though it did next to nothing to decrease his i
nterest in her. If anything…

She paused at the rear side door to his rental. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? Or would I just be in your way?”

He stopped beside her, closer than he’d been as yet. Close enough to see the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks, the wide fullness of her mouth, the delightful tilt to the corner of her eyes when she smiled, though the color of them was still a mystery. One he was finding himself quite compelled to solve.

“I can handle it,” he told her, hoping like
hell she attributed the lower p
itch in his voice to
the
weather
and not his reaction to being so close to her. Yet so impossibly far from being able to do anything about this sudden and quite intense feeling of attraction.

Her smile curved even more deeply. “You know what, Gentleman Yank?” she said, a bit more softly this time, though every bit as amused. “I believe you can.”

He might have spent the better part of the past several years deep in the Yucatan jungle, but even he recognized a come-on when he heard it.

At least he was pretty damn sure it was a come-on. Maybe it was just wishful thinking that had taken on hallucinogenic proportions due to the cryogenic loss of brain cells. Which was entirely possible.