Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

“The storm track moved late last night, from what I’m reading,” Angela said as she thumbed through her phone. “It’s just revving up out there, too. Most of the storm is supposed to get here in a few hours, so let’s get you two on that plane.”

Bristol nodded. “You still good here?”

“Yep,” Angela answered. “I’ll help GQ with whatever they need and pack up all the samples from the shoot. I’ll be back in the city by the afternoon.”

“I hate leaving you with everything,” Bristol admitted, reaching for the remote and turning on the massive television that hung above the fireplace, then clicking through the channels rapidly. “Come on, weather update,” she muttered as I finished lacing my shoes.

“—not quite a real nor’easter. None of us expected this storm to intensify overnight the way it has, but here we are.” A meteorologist took up the majority of the screen, gesturing along the blue path that indicated the storm. “We had projected the system to mostly impact here,” he motioned toward the southern tip of Maine. “But it’s moved southward in the last seven hours, and Boston seems to be taking the brunt of it, with a foot of storm surge. But the real story today is the wind, as you can see from this map.”

The screen changed, showing the faster windspeeds in red.

“Shit,” I muttered. There was a sweeping line of higher windspeeds straight through the Catskills.

“New York City is dealing with her own fair share of wind, but airports are still open and on time,” the meteorologist announced with a practiced grin. “Good news for all you last-minute travelers hoping to catch our guys on the ice tonight, isn’t that right, Eric?”

“That’s right, Steve. It’s game seven of the Eastern Conference, and the series is tied with three games each.”

I’d heard enough. I packed up what little I’d brought with me and when I stepped out of the bathroom, the weather guy was back on. Bristol was zipping up her bag and giving Angela last-minute instructions.

“Winds are only going to intensify from here, folks, so batten down the hatches and secure those trampolines. We’re settling in for a windy, rainy day,” the weather guy continued.

Bristol shut off the television and turned to me. “Ready?”

“Yep.” I managed a smile, but my stomach was in knots. Staying here had been a reckless thing to do, but it had been a month since I’d spent any time with Bristol, and I’d gone against my better judgment to sneak in whatever time we could. I slung my bag over my shoulder and carried Bristol’s as we walked out of the primary bedroom, Angela on our heels.

“Do you want something to eat?” Angela offered as we passed through the kitchen.

“No thanks. I’ll grab something on the way or at the airport or…something.”

“I’m fine,” Bristol told Angela, lacing her fingers with mine. The house groaned again, and I couldn’t help but cringe.

Three minutes later, we had the bags loaded up and waved to Angela as we pulled out of the garage. The windshield wipers worked overtime, but the visibility was worse than I’d feared.

“Can you see?” Bristol asked, raising her voice over the tiny jackhammers of rain that pelted her Range Rover.

“I’m okay,” I promised, pulling out of the driveway and onto the mostly paved road. “Don’t worry about me. Unlike someone I know, I still drive everywhere I need to go,” I teased her, hoping it would lighten the mood.

“Ha. Ha.” She rolled her eyes and lifted her phone to her ear. “Hi, this is Bristol McClaren, I just wanted to make sure we were all set for takeoff?”

“Shit!” I jerked the wheel to the left, narrowly missing a branch that swung wildly as it dangled from one of the trees that lined the road.

Bristol gasped, lifting her hand to her chest and whipping her gaze toward me.

“Like I said, don’t worry,” I said without taking my eyes off the road. “Good hand-eye coordination over here.” The fact that it was only supposed to get windier had me shaking my head.

“Okay, thank you. We’re on our way.” She hung up, and I didn’t even have to look over to know she was white-knuckling the passenger door handle. “He said we’re still clear for takeoff.”

“You know, yesterday I thought all this seclusion was romantic.” I took the curve in the road slowly. This was the only road in or out of here that I knew of, and it wasn’t exactly in prime condition. “Beautiful trees. Meandering creeks. Green as far as the eye could see.”

“And now?” she asked.

“Now I’d kill for a little civilization and a four-lane highway.” We hit a straight stretch of road, and I lifted Bristol’s hand to my lips for a kiss. She looked as nervous as I felt. Not that we were late for our flight. We still had an hour before takeoff was scheduled and it wasn’t exactly like we were flying commercial. “We’ll be fine,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “The airport is what? Twenty minutes away?”