The Christmas Blanket

Oh, thank God, I thought. Just some wood and a quick push and I’ll be on my way. Or maybe this guy’s got a big truck and a tow hitch and he can just pull me out.

I was already smiling when the man reached me, and I shook my head, thumbing over my shoulder to the car. “Guess these rental cars aren’t made for driving on these roads in the snow, huh?” I joked.

But when the flashlight lowered and my eyes adjusted, all semblance of humor left me in a whoosh.

Because the man wasn’t my savior at all.

He was my ex-husband.This can’t be happening.

Even as I prayed the words in my head, I knew it was. I knew that my ever-reliable bad luck had delivered my ex to me within ten minutes of being back in the town limits. I knew it was none other than River Jensen standing there before me.

I would know that man anywhere.

I’d know the line of his jaw — dusted in stubble because he never could grow a beard, and the curve of his nose — broken in ninth grade at a baseball game, and the shape of his torso — lean and narrow at the waist, broad and proud at the shoulders. I’d know the thick brown hair, even hidden under his hat, though it didn’t look as long as I’d remembered. And of course, I’d know those furrowed brows, the deep wrinkle between them, and the earthy green eyes they sheltered, too.

I’d never forget those eyes.

Not as long as I lived.

I was still standing there shocked stupid, trying to convince myself it couldn’t possibly be my ex-husband and the number-one reason I left this town who’d come to save me and get my car out of the ditch when the bastard let out a long, heavy sigh of his own.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

At that, my senses came back to me like the snap of a rubber band.

I narrowed my eyes with a cross of my arms over my chest. “Well, hello to you, too.”

River ignored my remark, gesturing to the mess behind me with his big bear paw of a gloved hand. “What the hell kind of car is that to be driving in a blizzard, Eliza?”

I shivered at the sound of my name in that gruff voice, somehow familiar and yet reminiscent of another life I questioned if I’d even lived at all.

“And what are you doing driving in a blizzard at all, period?”

“Excuse me,” I said, pressing a hand to my chest. “Don’t be rude. I just got here.”

“No shit.”

I frowned. “I drove here straight from the airport, okay? I thought I’d make it before the sun set. Forgive me if I miscalculated.” I shook my head. “I see you haven’t changed.”

He ignored my dig, still assessing the car behind me. “Did you also forget to check the weather forecast before booking your flight?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed, but my cheeks heated from the truth, which was that I hadn’t even considered it. “I’m very capable of driving on these roads in a little snowstorm. I grew up here, in case you forgot.”

A shadow of something passed over his eyes at those words, but he neglected to answer, shaking his head, instead. “A blizzard isn’t a little snowstorm.”

As if he’d conjured it, a gust of wind so cold and strong blew through the trees, stinging my face and making my eyes water.

“Come on, let’s get inside.”

River was already on his way back up the hill to that driveaway I assumed he’d joined me from, and from his recommendation to get inside, I knew now that I was right.

But I stood rooted in place.

“No, thank you.”

At that, he stopped, turning on the heel of his boot with a cocked brow. “No, thank you?”

“I’m going to get some wood to put under the back tires and be on my way,” I said firmly, already heading back toward the woods. “If you’d be so kind as to help me, I’d appreciate it. But if you’d rather be on your way, don’t let me stop you.”

He chuckled, and the sound sent a wave of fury through me.

“A little wood isn’t going to get that car unstuck,” he said.

“I’ve used that trick a dozen times before,” I argued back, but somehow I had stopped, facing him again with a popped hip and a watch me attitude.

“That may be so, but those wheels are already half buried, and so is any scrap of anything you’d find in those woods. It’ll also be wet. And of no use.”

I looked over my shoulder at the woods, chewing on his observation and hating that he was probably right.

Another gust of wind whipped through, and I was shivering so hard now I didn’t know if I could stand another minute outside. My feet were numb. My hands, too. My eyes stung from the wind, and my nose was threatening to divorce me if I didn’t get some warm air on it.