Drake and Ashley
The Complete Story
Noelle Stevens
Contents
Note to Readers
Book Description
Snowbound
What I Want
Ever After
Love Me Forever
Note to Readers
Noelle Stevens is a pen name used by author Christine Kersey. Where Noelle Stevens’ books are PG-13, Christine Kersey’s are PG.
Christine has a number of FREE books available for download. To learn more, click HERE.
Christine also offers her two standalone suspense novels for free when you join her VIP Readers’ Club. To join, click HERE.
Book Description
DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT?
New college graduate Ashley Spencer has big plans. Now that she has her degree, she's ready to conquer the world, but while driving to a new city she gets caught in a blizzard. Not used to that kind of weather, and on an unfamiliar road, she slides off into a snowbank and gets stuck. Lucky for her, Colton Drake comes along and rescues her. The only trouble is, he's used to getting what he wants, and what he wants is Ashley, but she's not so sure she wants him.
Stuck in his cabin until the blizzard ends, will they drive each other crazy--or will their forced confinement drive them into each other's arms?
Snowbound
Drake and Ashley, Book One
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Snowbound (Drake and Ashley, Book One)
Copyright © 2014 by Christine Kersey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
eBook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.
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One
ASHLEY
I drive forward, my gaze ricocheting between my speedometer and the snow-covered road, my fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel in the ten and two o’clock positions. With virtually no experience driving in the snow, it’s just my luck that my drive from Las Vegas to Reno has coincided with this unusual, late spring snowstorm. Still, I’m determined to reach my destination in the timeframe I’ve planned.
The GPS assures me I’m going the right way, but with the whiteout conditions I can’t tell for sure. I try to convince myself that this is all just part of the adventure—leave all that I know and move to a new city to start a new life. Isn’t that what most new college graduates want?
I look in my rearview mirror, but when I see no headlights behind me, I feel very alone.
What if I get stuck in a snowbank? How will I get out? Who will help me? I’m a girl from Las Vegas. Why on earth did I think I would like moving north where it snows?
If I’m honest with myself, I had a romanticized picture of this type of weather—curled up in front of a blazing fire reading a novel, and when I get chilly, a handsome man will tuck a soft blanket around my legs. And then he’ll fix me a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top.
Thinking about chilly legs makes me realize that my feet are cold. Despite turning up the heat, only cold air blows out. I make sure the temperature is set to hot, but the cold air continues to blow. It’s like my car is protesting being out of the sunshine.
“Dang it.” I hit the dashboard like that will change my car’s mind and make it shape up.
Shape up or ship out.
The words I learned from my dad come to mind—words that I repeated to my most recent boyfriend the week before, after he started treating me like dirt. He shipped out all right, dumping me without a second thought.
Frowning, I remind myself that I’ve decided to put men out of my life while I focus on jump-starting my new career. No men equals no distractions.
With a grimace I realize my toes have gone numb. I turn the fan off—no point in speeding up the freezing process—and focus on the road.
Maybe there’s a hotel around here where I can spend the night and wait out the storm, I think.
Peering into the whiteness that surrounds me, I see nothing but desolate wilderness stretching out on both sides of the road. Not even a house in sight.
Sighing, I continue onward, but slow as I begin to fear that I will slide off the road. It doesn’t look like a snowplow has come through recently. In fact, it’s getting hard to tell where the road is. My car isn’t really meant for this kind of weather.
Occasionally I hit a patch of ice and the wheels slip, just a bit. My heart races as the realization dawns on me that I’m in trouble. I don’t know where I am, and the weather is just getting worse. I glance at the GPS on my phone, but it is no help. It insists I continue on for another eighty miles and it doesn’t show any approaching side streets.
Hardly daring to take my eyes from the road, I hold my cell phone, trying to decide how to do this. Though I’m pretty good at dialing while driving, I really want to keep both hands and both eyes on the road.
I know I could stop, but that presents problems of its own. One, I can’t pull over since all I see next to the road are deep snowbanks. And two, I don’t think stopping in the middle of the road is a great option either. With my luck, even though I can’t see anyone behind me right now, if I stop, a semi is sure to come barreling down the road and crush my car like a gnat against the windshield.
No, I will have to do my best to keep driving while I dial. I pick up the phone and punch in 911, but don’t press the dial key. What am I supposed to say? Hi, my name’s Ashley Spencer. I’m not from around here, but the heater in my car just went out and I’m getting really cold. Can you help me?
I’m not so desperate that I’m willing to make myself look like an idiot. At least not yet.
Instead I press 411, ready to ask for the nearest motel, but when I press the dial key, nothing happens. And that’s when I notice that I have no service. I stare at the phone for a second, willing it to connect with a cell tower, but not only does that not happen, but when I look back up, a fence is racing towards me. Or maybe I’m racing towards the fence. It’s hard to tell in the state of panic that overtakes me.
I don’t have time to react, and even though the airbag deploys as I hit the fence, my head hits the driver’s side window, knocking my head painfully against the glass. I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment as I try to regain my equilibrium.
The snow continues to fall and soon it is piled on the windshield and I know I’m stuck. At least my car is stuck. The engine is off, and when I turn the key, the engine refuses to start. It doesn’t even make a clicking sound. It is completely dead.
Which is what I will be if I don’t find a way to get some help.
I pick up my phone again and give it another try, but where it should show four tall bars, it shows a circle with a line through it. No service.
“Great,” I say out loud, noticing a plume of frosty breath leaving my mouth.
I take off my seatbelt, then reach into the back seat and grab the coat I threw back there earlier.
Good thing I did or I’d be even more screwed.
Awkwardly, I pull it on while sitting in my seat, then open the glove box and find my brand-new gloves. I never needed them in L
as Vegas, but boy am I glad I splurged on a good pair for this move.
I wiggle my toes, but they feel funny—almost like they have no feeling at all. I move my seat all the way back, then put my left foot across my right knee and pull off my shoe. I wrap my hands around my icicle-like toes and try to get the circulation going, then put my socks and shoes back on. I do the same for my right foot and feel marginally better. Trying to peer through the windows, I frown. Not only are they covered by snow on the outside, but they are completely fogged up on the inside.
Sighing, I know I have no choice but to get out and walk. I hope—oh, how I hope!—I’ll be able to find a house or a car or something to help me.
I put my cell phone in my purse, sling my purse crosswise across my body, pull on my gloves, then tug on the door handle. My door hits the snowbank and doesn’t want to open more than a few inches, but after some wrestling I’m able to open it enough to climb out.
The moment I step out of the relative warmth of my car, the wind-driven snow—that phrase sounded so idyllic up until now—makes me squeeze my eyes closed in protest. I throw my arm up to protect my face, but that does little to stop the tiny crystals of ice from pelting me.
After a moment I’m able to look around without cringing and I see nothing but white. The road is a perfect blanket of pristine snow, although the snow has bunched up in places where drifts have formed. My toes tingle and I look down to see my feet buried to my ankles, but the boots I wear keep the snow from falling inside to my feet. Yes, they are boots—but the stylish kind, not the warm-in-the-snow kind. I briefly consider getting a pair of tennis shoes out of my trunk, but I know if I wear them, the snow will quickly fall into the edges and soak my socks.
Guess I didn’t plan so well in the shoe department.
I step out of the snowbank and onto the road, then look at my car, which is now perpendicular to the road but completely off of the road. The front end is wedged against the fence, but even if I’m able to start the engine, I won’t be able to get my car back onto the road.
I look down the road, back the way I came, but see nothing. Then I look into the distance to where I’d been headed. Again, nothing. It’s like I’m in some post-apocalyptic nightmare and no one else exists. It is eerie and unsettling.
Jamming my hands into my coat pockets, I start walking in the direction I came from. Even though it’s been at least forty-five minutes since I’ve seen civilization, at least I know civilization exists in that direction.
Trudging forward, I duck my head, trying to avoid the majority of the snow that’s falling in ever-larger flakes. Even so, my nose feels painfully cold as the freezing wind bites it.
Desperate for a warm and dry place to stay, I listen intently for the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Two
DRAKE
It’s been a long day and I’m eager to reach my cabin. As much as I love my job, I can’t help but look forward to getting away from the hustle and bustle as often as possible. I don’t even mind the snow all that much, and I’m prepared for an extended stay if necessary. My truck can manage the roads, so I try to relax as I focus on not sliding.
I find my mind wandering a bit—to the projects I’ve been working on at the office, to my decision on whether I should continue my relationship with Rachel, to what it is that’s missing in my life.
My mind sticks on that last one. As much as I love coming to my cabin, it seems like even there my work intrudes and I end up not unwinding so much as getting wound up as I work undisturbed on my consulting projects. I like being able to work without interruption, but it seems I’ve lost the ability to let go and have fun.
Ever since Dad retired and handed the reins for the business he started over to me, it seems as if I’ve been hyper-focused on not only keeping up with all that he’s created, but trying to exceed it. I don’t know what I’m trying to prove—he’s always told me he’s proud of me, and I know he thinks I’m doing just fine with his legacy. But still, I can’t seem to stop myself from putting my work at the center of my universe.
I think about Rachel and wonder if that’s the motivation for wanting to end things with her—wanting to spend less time on our relationship and more time on work—but deep down I know it’s more than that. We have many similar interests, but there are a lot of things I like to do that she has no interest in.
Ah, well. I’ll figure it out eventually. There’s no rush. She’s busy with her career and I’m busy with mine.
A small frown pulls down the corners of my mouth as the face of my mother fills my mind.
If she was still alive, she would definitely disapprove of my laid-back attitude regarding relationships.
My mother always had great hopes for me—taking over Dad’s business, yeah, but getting married and having babies was high on her list of things she wanted me to achieve.
Nevertheless, I like the freedom I’ve always enjoyed and I don’t have plans to get tied down anytime soon. Especially with the time I’ve needed to put into the consulting firm Dad’s entrusted me with.
The falling snowflakes thicken and I turn my attention to the road, grateful I’ve almost reached the cabin. The road is getting worse and I’m ready to be off of it.
On the lookout for my turn-off, I almost don’t see the woman jumping up and down in the middle of the road, her arms waving like she’s cheering on the winner in a stock car race.
Three
ASHLEY
Frantically waving my arms, I’m beyond relieved that a car has finally appeared along this deserted road. I’ve walked well over a mile and I think I’m on the verge of hypothermia.
The headlights grow brighter as the truck approaches and I jump up and down, desperate for the driver to see me. The truck is suddenly too close, and I throw myself backwards into the snowbank as the truck nearly hits me. The truck passes me and I see its brake lights come on, then the truck begins to fishtail and slide out of control. When it finally comes to a stop, it is facing the wrong direction.
The wet snow begins seeping into my jeans and I begin to shiver. A door slams, then a tall man walks over to me.
He stares down at me for a moment, then he begins yelling. “What do you think you’re doing? Trying to get yourself killed?”
I glare at him in disbelief. He is the one who almost hit me. Feeling miserable, I begin pushing myself up, but after only a second I grimace as a jolt of pain stabs at my ankle, and I sit back in the snowbank.
“Are you hurt?” The man peers down at me, his anger seeming to abate.
I wipe snow from my cheek, which seems to emphasize the numbness of my face. “I think it’s my ankle,” I manage to say through frozen lips and chattering teeth.
The man steps into the snowbank and helps me stand. I hold on to his arm but bend my right leg to keep from standing on that foot. I feel like I’m freezing to death, but even so, I notice that my head barely reaches the man’s shoulder.
Even though I hold onto his arm, I struggle to get up the snow bank. We’re making very slow progress, and I guess he gets impatient, because he scoops me right up like I weigh nothing.
A sound of surprise escapes my mouth, but he just carries me out of the snowbank and over to his truck. He never even sets me down—he just reaches over and opens the passenger door, then deposits me inside and shuts the door. Then he goes around to his side of the truck and slides behind the wheel before turning to me.
“What are you doing walking around out here in this weather?” A scowl fills his face. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk along this road when no one can see you?”
What kind of a stupid question is that? I want to ask, but I’m shivering so much, and my teeth are chattering so hard, that I can’t form the words, so instead I just glare at him.
The man sighs. “You don’t have to speak. We need to get you warmed up first.” He glances behind him, in the direction he’d been driving before he spun around. “My cabin isn’t far. We’ll go there and get yo
u warmed up.”
After a moment he’s gotten his truck turned around and we head down the road. As he drives, he glances at me, which makes me suddenly wonder if I’ve been rescued by a serial killer.
He turns up the temperature on the heater, then turns the fan on full-blast, but I’m still not getting any warmer and I’m sure my damp clothes have something to do with it.
Five minutes later he turns off of the road, although I never saw a road to turn onto. Nevertheless we keep on going, and when the truck starts to slip on the icy road, I see him do something with his truck—I guess turn on his four-wheel drive—and we’re able to move forward.
After another ten minutes a house comes into view. I wonder if this is the cabin he mentioned, although I’d pictured a small wooden structure. This is no cabin. This is a large two-story house.
He shuts off the engine and turns to me. I stare at him, then look at the house, then turn back to him. The heat of the cab has helped my shivering some, but I still don’t seem to be able to get warm.
“We’re here,” he says.
Though glad his cabin is more than a one-room hut, I don’t know what he expects me to do. I feel like I’m on the verge of hypothermia, not to mention that I can’t walk on my bum ankle. Especially in the deep snow.
“Do you want me to carry you?” he asks.
Hating that I feel so helpless, I say, “I don’t think I can walk.”
“I can help with that.” He smiles, and that changes the whole look of his face. Where before he looked like he had a permanent scowl, when he smiles, his straight white teeth are framed by perfectly shaped lips, and he even has a dimple on one of his cheeks.
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