by MJ Fredrick
Her face heated. “I’ve tried to put those things out of my mind.” She rolled her shoulders and met his teasing gaze. “I’m perfect now.”
The look he gave her, the quirk of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, made her stomach clench in a completely different way, one she didn’t dare define. She reached for her coffee, needing something to do with her hands, but she couldn’t drink.
“I’m done.”
He nodded. “Ready to get back on the road?”
“I’ll make a pit stop, then I’m good.” She stood and headed for the restroom. Once inside, she slipped the phone from her pocket. Her emotions weren’t nearly where they needed to be for a conversation with her mother, but she didn’t know when she would get another chance to call.
She was actually surprised when her mother answered.
“Hello?”
Willow knew her mother had caller ID on her cell, and wondered if someone was with her. “Mom, it’s me.”
“Willow! Hello, darling. Good to hear from you.”
Willow bit back the reminder that she’d left several messages. “Hey, Mom. Are you busy?”
“I’m shopping. I missed yesterday’s sales because I just ate too much at the luncheon at the club the day before.”
“The club?” Willow asked, as she was meant to.
“Jason’s country club had a turkey dinner for members. It was lovely, but so many delicious things to try. Stuffed mushrooms, salmon, melon wrapped in prosciutto. You’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I imagine.” Willow waited for her mother to ask what she’d done for the holiday, and wondered at her disappointment when the question didn’t come. She pushed the resentment aside. Her mother had worked more holidays than she’d been off so they didn’t have the significance for her that they had for other people. “I’m glad you had a good holiday.”
“It was lovely.” Her mother went on about the centerpieces and how lovely Vermont was this time of year. Willow began to wonder what Cam would think if she stayed too long in here.
She waited until her mother took a breath. “Mom, I need a favor.”
She could almost see her mother’s shoulders snap with tension from across the country. “What is it?”
“I can’t get to my bank and I need you to wire some money to Helena, Montana.”
“Helena, Montana? Why?”
“I’m…heading to Seattle with Cam and I forgot my debit card and there aren’t any branches of my bank on our route—at least, they won’t be open at the times we can get to them.”
“Why are you with Cameron Trask in Montana?” her mother asked.
“We’re going to Seattle. He has a big job interview.”
“I thought you were spending the holiday in Wisconsin.”
“Plans changed.” Willow glanced at the display. Cam would definitely think something was wrong if she stayed in here much longer. “I’ll pay you back Monday, as soon as I can get to a bank.”
“I don’t know.”
She knew her mother had the money. Her alimony from her last marriage was more than generous. Brenda had earned it, Willow knew, and deserved it, but it wasn’t as if Willow was asking for a gift. She knew what the issue was. Brenda didn’t know how to wire money and she didn’t want to expose her ignorance by asking.
“You can just go to the supermarket and they’ll tell you what to do. Mom, please. I don’t ask for many favors.” In fact, she hadn’t asked for anything for years.
“How much do you need?”
“Five hundred. I’ll pay you back Monday, I promise.”
“All right.”
“Can you call me when it’s done? I’ve got to go. Cam is waiting on me.”
“Of course. It may be a couple of hours.”
“Okay. Just give me a call with the info, okay?”
“I will. Willow—be careful.”
“We will. Thanks, Mom.”
Cam was sitting in the car, engine running, when she exited the coffee shop. “You okay?” he asked.
“Mom called. Sorry.”
“No problem.” He put the car in reverse and they were off. “She doing okay? Your mom? This man treating her better than the last?”
“Couldn’t treat her worse.”
“I never understood how a woman as strong as your mother would put up with that.”
“I think it all has to do with her expectations. She would rather be in a relationship—that is, not alone—than assert herself and be called a bitch. Which he did whenever she asserted herself.”
“I get the not wanting to be alone bit, but your mother’s gorgeous. She could have any man she wanted.”
“Most men her age want women my age. It’s a sad truth. And the men who don’t, well, they want more of an ‘old-fashioned’ woman. For that matter, so did Jerry. I think they’ve been watching too much Mad Men.”
Cam laughed. “I never did get the appeal of that show.”
“It’s back when men had it all.”
“Yeah, but why women go along with it? Especially a woman like your mom, who’s been through so much. I hope this guy is better to her.”
“She seems happy. Though she’d acted happy with Tucker too. So I can’t really tell if she’s putting on a front.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Judith’s wedding. Before that, my birthday.”
He glanced over at her. “Maybe it’s time for you to slow down some.”
“I like my job.”
“Yeah, but you need to think about family too.”
“She’d be the first one to tell me to do what I love.”
“Like you said, you can’t believe everything that comes out of her mouth. And you know her well enough that she’s not going to ask you to visit. Hell, you’re just like her there.”
Oh, ouch. “You’re right.” She tucked the phone in the side pocket of her purse, where she’d hear if it rang. She wouldn’t relax until she heard from her mother that the money had been sent. “I will be a better, more understanding daughter.” She shifted in her seat. “Why don’t you have any faults we can pick on for a while?”
He glanced over, eyes calm. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
She rolled her shoulders and looked out through the windshield. “Just feeling conscious of my failings today, I guess.”
He reached over and rubbed his hand over her thigh—the inside of her thigh, because of the way her leg was turned. Heat raced up her body, both at the sensation and at the sight of his big hand covering her leg. “Don’t forget,” he said. “You’re perfect.”
He removed his touch, seeming oblivious to the fire he’d ignited, and she rested her head against the back of the seat. If only she was oblivious to it too.
Chapter Six
Willow woke from a doze when she heard Cam swear. She blinked and straightened in her seat, looking from Cam’s tense jawline to the windshield and whiteout conditions. The wipers tried to keep up with the snow but couldn’t.
“How long has this been going on?”
“It just started. We’re going to have to find a place to pull over but there isn’t any place that I can see.”
She adjusted her seat belt. How he knew where the road was, she had no idea.
“Maybe we should just pull over.” Terror gripped her—they appeared to be the only people in the world out here, no lights of other cars, nothing.
“Not sure where the shoulder is, and I don’t want to risk being hit by another driver.”
She noticed then that his hazard lights were flashing, and that he was creeping along at just over thirty miles an hour. Hard to gauge speed in the whiteout.
“Does Brian have a survival kit in the trunk?”
“Yeah. I checked back at the coffee shop. Snow chains and everything, if we can get them on someplace. This wasn’t on the weather site when I checked, by the way.” He lifted a finger to point to the snow smacking down on the windshield, then returned his grip to
the wheel.
As they rolled forward, Willow focused her attention on the side of the road, on the lookout for a place—preferably an establishment—to pull over. God, there was a lot of nothing out here.
Cam swore again and jerked the wheel. Willow barely had time to protest as an eighteen-wheeler blew by them with a blare of its horn. Cam braked and the car skidded sideways as a shower of snow dropped over the hood of the car, halfway up the windshield. The car jerked to a stop, listing to the right, apparently off the road. He released the steering wheel to curve his hand over her thigh for a moment. To reassure himself or her, she wasn’t sure.
“You okay?”
She nodded shakily and held her breath as he waited for the wipers to clear the windshield. As Cam gently pressed the accelerator, the tires spun, caught, spun, caught. The back end fishtailed, and Willow gripped the dash until the tires found purchase and they were able to move forward again.
Cam let out a breath on a laugh. “At least now we know where the road is.”
Half an hour later, they found a truck stop and squeezed Brian’s precious car in between two of the dozens and dozens of eighteen-wheelers already taking shelter in the enormous parking lot. Cam peeled his stiff fingers from the steering wheel and sat back with a sigh.
“Mind if we sit here a bit? Not sure my legs will hold me after that.”
“Who lives in a place where it snows like this in November?” She reached over and linked her fingers through his. “Thanks for getting us here. I’m glad I wasn’t driving.”
He squeezed her hand, then let go and shivered. “Let’s get inside and see if they have any coffee left.”
He grabbed his computer bag from the backseat, hefted it over his shoulder and met her at the hood of the car. He looped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his body as they hurried toward the glassed-in restaurant.
“Stay close,” he said, looking through the doorway before ushering her inside.
The place was packed, no booths available. Almost every customer was male, and turned to look at Willow as she tugged her hat off and shook out her blond curls. Great. Cam kept a possessive hand on the small of her back as they made their way to the rear of the restaurant, to two stools at the counter. Today, for once, he was glad of his size, though it didn’t deter the hungry looks sent in her direction. At least she had her coat on.
She was nervous too, he could tell, because she edged closer to him and sat on the stool by the wall, putting himself between her and the truckers.
The waitresses were running their feet off and about fifteen minutes passed before the woman behind the counter made her way to them. She didn’t have time for niceties, just took their order for coffee and sandwiches, warning them it would be a while.
Cam glanced toward the fogged windows. “I think we have time.”
Her smile was without humor as she turned away. So much for his charm.
The restaurant was warm, with all the bodies and the kitchen not far away. Beside him, Willow slipped out of her coat and tucked her gloves into her purse.
The coffee was terrible, but warm. Cam’s attention drifted to the fuzzy television overhead playing a weather report. Someone had the foresight to turn on the closed-captioning, because no way could anyone hear over the noise of a roomful of truckers. The weary-looking weatherman gestured to the map of Montana and the blobs of white and pink, stretching into Canada. Cam’s heart sank as he watched the slow movement of the storm south and east. It would be impossible to drive any farther today, or maybe even until late tomorrow. And they still had six hundred miles to go.
He couldn’t let Willow see his disappointment, because he didn’t want another pep talk. Maybe fate was showing him he didn’t need that job, that he could stay in Illinois and have a future with Willow.
Only he wasn’t certain of her feelings. They’d been on the road together four days, had spent three nights alone together in hotel rooms and she’d given no indication she saw him as more than a friend. His ego was taking a hell of a beating. But he wouldn’t risk what they had without a signal from her.
“Is there a motel around?” Willow asked the waitress when she delivered their sandwiches, with only crumbs of chips on the side.
“Two exits down.” The woman didn’t make eye contact as she poured the dregs of the coffee into Cam’s cup. “Rooms are probably booked, though, even if you could make it. You two are the ones in the classic car, right?”
“Right.” Cam looked toward the window but was unable to see the car through the steamed glass.
“You don’t want to spend the night in that thing. You’ll freeze to death.”
“No kidding.” Willow shivered and her arm brushed his, then lingered. “Even with body heat.”
What the hell? Why had she said that? Cam tried not to betray his surprise.
“Can we use your phone to call the motel? We’re not getting a cell signal in this weather.”
The woman inclined her head to the payphone in the opposite corner, by the cash register.
“Do you have the number?” Cam asked, pushing to his feet.
“It’s on the wall there. Hide-Away Inn. Not really an inn, though. Don’t get your hopes up.” She moved away.
Why would he, after their experience so far? “I’ll call now. The later we wait, the worse our chances,” he said.
“Good luck.”
Cam moved sideways down the aisle as more truckers filed in. When he reached the phone, he glanced back to see Willow talking to one of the newcomers. His instinct was to head back to her and claim his seat—and her—but they needed shelter tonight. They couldn’t stay here.
He picked up the phone and crouched to cradle the handset against his shoulder since the stiff line was so short. He’d forgotten how inconvenient payphones were. He found the number on the wall, dug for his coins and dropped them in, then dialed.
The phone rang and rang. Frustration built in his chest as he kept an eye on Willow, who was holding a conversation with the trucker. She was smiling and gesturing—what he thought might be the car sliding off the road—but even across the length of the restaurant, he recognized the strain. She motioned in his direction. When the trucker looked, Cam lifted a hand in acknowledgment and willed the motel receptionist to answer.
Four more rings and then a harassed woman’s voice answered. “Hide-Away Inn.”
“Any vacancies tonight?” Cam asked quickly.
“Only if you can get here soon.”
“Can I give you my credit card number to hold the room? We’re at the truck stop down the road.” God, he really hoped he was talking to the right motel. He cast about for the name of the truck stop. “Willy’s Truck Stop. In—what town are we in?” He scanned the pinned-up papers on the wall around the phone. “Bennett? Sound familiar?”
“Sure, I know where it is. Two exits down, about three miles.”
With deep reservation, he drew his wallet out and read off the card number and expiration date. At least he was close enough to his limit that no one could go buy herself a plasma TV or something. He completed the transaction, took the woman’s name and returned to Willow. The trucker had moved on, but Willow’s relief was palpable. She hadn’t touched her meal.
“I got the room.”
She straightened. “Maybe we could take this to go.”
He frowned. “Yeah, good idea. There’s a convenience store over there too. We could stock up for tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” she said as he signaled for the waitress to bring them a to-go container.
“Not Styrofoam, please,” Cam said. “If you could just wrap it in paper and put it in a paper bag, that would be great.”
The waitress rolled her eyes at him, but he was used to that reaction.
He turned to Willow. “Sorry about what?”
“About not getting to Seattle on time.”
He pressed his lips together as the waitress brought them the paper bag and Willow packed
them up. “Yeah. We’ll worry about that tomorrow.”
They walked to the register and Cam pulled out his card to pay. His stomach tightened when it was declined. “Seriously?” Had the woman at the motel already hit the online stores?
“How much was the room?” Willow drew out her own card.
He wanted to smack his forehead. He hadn’t bothered to ask, but because of the storm it was probably double, or triple, to desperate travelers. He hadn’t considered that.
Willow’s card went through, and they carried their dinner into the attached store for supplies. No telling when they’d get out again. She flinched when her credit card took another hit, then they braved the storm back in the car.
Cam turned the ignition and they sat in the car for a moment. “I need to find out how much that motel is. We might not be able to afford two nights. I saw you with the credit card. Not much wiggle room there?”
“I brought the wrong one. My new couch and my bridesmaid dress and other expenses from the wedding are on this one. I haven’t gotten the bill yet, so it’s pretty close to the limit. But I asked my mom to wire money to Helena.”
“Two hundred miles away.”
“When we get to the motel I’ll call her again. Maybe she can send it here.”
He nodded, then pulled forward between the two big rigs and through the parking lot, bouncing over the curb into the street, heading in the direction of the motel.
The storm hadn’t weakened while they’d been inside, but Cam felt more relaxed after the break. He didn’t have to tell Willow to keep her eyes peeled. She leaned forward, straining to see through the windshield.
After half an hour he thought they might have missed it. His stomach tightened with the thought that they would have to turn around, but then Willow said, “There!” and pointed to the left.
The dim neon sign read Hide-Away Inn through the snow. Again Cam bounced over the curb into the parking lot, scraping the undercarriage and wincing at what Brian’s reaction would be, before parking in front of the office. He left the car running and ran into the office for the key, half expecting the manager to say he was mistaken, they hadn’t taken his credit card information, or that the card had been declined here as it had been at the diner.
