Sinful Like Us (Like Us 5)

No, definitely don’t think about any of that, Jane.

Definitely not.

25

THATCHER MORETTI

We’re done. I’m done.

Her words rush through my head as we make the drive back to Mackintosh House. We’re alone in a cramped rental car, and there are so many things I want to say. But I’m fighting between keeping focus on the snowy road and trying to formulate words that won’t push her further away.

Unfuck this.

I want to.

I’m going to.

We just left the food market five minutes ago, and the wind has escalated substantially. Snow sticks to the ground, and my windshield freezes in the corners, the shitty defroster not working that great.

I steal a glance at Jane. She’s staring out her window, fist to her chin like she’s deep in thought.

One hour.

That’s how long it’s gonna take to get home.

Maybe even longer if the ice slows me down.

Suddenly, the car radio switches on as if it has a life of its own. Static and incoherent voices pour through. We both reach for the knobs at the same time.

Our fingers brush, skin-to-skin. My muscles tense. Images of her naked, sprawling across our bed flash before my eyes like some erotic movie. Heat blazes everywhere.

She inhales a shuddered breath and retracts as if she’s been electrocuted.

Goddammit.

Quickly, I shut off the radio and decrease the heat in the car. I’m sweating through my jacket and there’s a fucking snowstorm outside.

“My mom would say that’s a bad omen.” Jane breaks the uncomfortable silence.

She’s lost me. So I ask, “The radio turning on or us touching?”

“The radio.” She fidgets in her seat. I can tell she wants to say more, but she goes quiet again.

I keep one tensed hand on the steering wheel and shrug off my jacket with the other. I’m quick enough that she doesn’t have time to help me, and then I throw the fabric in the backseat.

My eyes never leave the road. The snow grows heavier, obstructing the streets and my line of sight. It’s my responsibility to bring her home safely.

Whatever discussion we need to have, it has to wait.

I’m just not used to this unbearable silence with her. It weighs on me the longer we’re stuck together in the sedan. Sun sets behind rolling hills, the Highlands breathtaking but more ominous in the dark. Wind howls outside, trembling the car. I’ve been in plenty of snowstorms in Philly, but this is incomparable. In a blink, the entire road is gone.

Lost to a sea of white.

We’re in a fucking blizzard.

“Thatcher.” She tries to peer through the whiteout, but I hear worry on the tail end of my name.

I force myself not to look fully in her direction. Stay frosty. But in my peripheral, I can tell she has a hand firm on the dashboard, bracing herself.

She asks, “Can you see anything?”

“Less than a meter.” I decelerate to a crawl and turn on the fog lights. “We’re fine. I’m taking it slow.”

No other cars are on the road. Darkness creates a tunnel-like feeling as snow piles on the car. She’s safe. It’s the only thing on my mind.

I lose track of time in the quiet, and I don’t want to look down at the clock. My deltoids ache from sitting upright and tensed. I try to roll out my neck and crack some strain—

Tires skate and the car drifts to the right.

My jaw locks. Correcting immediately, I lift my foot off the gas and strengthen my grip on the wheel. My pulse hammers in my ears.

“What was that?” Jane asks.

“We hit a small patch of ice.” Black ice will ruin us, and if we slide on a larger spot, I won’t be able to course correct.

I weigh the risks.

Without cell service and internet and with no clear view of road signs, I’m not 100% certain of our distance to the house. All I know is that it’s a direct shot. One road. One long stretch. Nothing but land.

I ask Jane for the time.

She tells me and then says, “Why?”

“I’m trying to calculate our distance to the house.”

She does the mental math in one second flat. “Based on our speed and current time, we should have about thirty miles left to go.”

Roughly fifty klicks away. Maybe more. Too far from the house to park on a bank and wait out the storm. If snow buries our car, we’ll need to hike thirty-miles in the morning—which means we’re fucked. We’re not prepared for an eight-hour trek on foot…but we could manage a three-hour walk to the house tomorrow if the weather lets up.

“Here’s the plan.” I speed up the wipers. “We’re going make it as close to the house as possible, and then I’m going to pull off and we’ll wait it out in the car.”

She inhales deeply. “You don’t think we can reach the house tonight?”

“Not with black ic—” I lose control of the car again. Goddammit. Front wheels skid to the left for a full second. Quickly, I counter and right us onto the road.

“Merde,” she curses.

I rip my eyes off the windshield for a split-second, just to check on Jane. She has a hand posted on the door, but her blue eyes are focused pinpoints.

I think she might be scanning for road signs.

Returning my concentration to the street, I exhale through my nose. “If we can make thirty more klicks, we’ll be fine.”

“I’m trying to keep track of our distance,” she tells me. “But it’s quite difficult.” Even now she wants to be my right-hand. I swallow back emotion that surges, constricting my lungs.

And then, just like that, we’re spinning.

It happens faster and swifter than the first two times, and I have zero control over the wheels. Nothing I do will stop tires from skating like four hockey pucks on ice, but I try to right us without causing more problems.

Disorientation kicks in for a split-se

cond before we stop. I assess our surroundings with almost no visibility, but two tires dip a bit. Which means we’re probably on the bank of the road.

I turn to her. “Jane, are you okay?” I reach for her before I remember we’re not together, and she might not want me to touch her.

I pull back.

She blinks hard. Her chest rises and falls heavily and she sweeps my frame just as much as I sweep her. Confusion pinches the creases of her eyes. “Why don’t you look like we just went through a rollercoaster?”

“Because I’ve spun out on black ice before,” I tell her. “It’s nothing new.” It’s not as violent as a car crash, but the shock is the same. “You didn’t answer me. Are you okay?”

She nods, gulping a bigger breath. “I think so. I just kept thinking we were going to flip like Maximoff and…” And Farrow and her brothers and little cousin.

“We didn’t,” I say strongly. We’re just fucked. We’re nowhere near the house.

“So now we wait in the car, and tomorrow we hike.” Confidence blazes her words. She pulls her shoulders back like she’s preparing for every war to come.

“No, there’s not going to be a hike.”

Her brows bunch. “Then what?”

“We have to wait for help.” She can’t walk eight-hours in the snow without the right gear. I can’t put her in that situation, and unfortunately, I also can’t radio the team. Comms are still down.

“You think we’re too far away.” Jane realizes into a slow nod. “Alright then.” She unlocks the glove compartment and grabs a flashlight. “We should gather provisions from the trunk and make sure the exhaust pipe isn’t blocked.” Goddamn, she’s smart.

My lips almost lift.

Bottom line, she’s one of the best people to have in this situation. I’m sure of that. Desire pumps through my body without much warning. Bottle that shit. I hate right now how much I’m enticed by each and every part of her.