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It’s already snowing.
Thick sheets plummet, occasionally colliding against the spanning windows. Snow piles along the cabin’s foundation, four or five inches already, with no signs of stopping.
Like hell are any flights taking off.
My hand goes to my phone in the pocket of my pants and lingers there. When did Julia leave? If she left a couple hours ago, she outran the weather. But if she’s still on the road…shit.
I take the stairs two at a time, heart thudding as I go.
***
My truck rumbles down the highway, speeding recklessly, but I can’t seem to ease off the gas. The worst could have happened. Hell, I shouldn’t even be out here, and I’ve got 4WD and huge ground clearance. The snow is practically flowing in a murky wall; visibility is shit.
It takes me ten minutes to stumble upon it: a black spot in a sea of white dotting the ominous blue of the rising morning. Immediately, unbridled urgency strikes me, but I resist the urge to slam on the gas any more than I already have.
My heart pounds when I approach and finally see the angle of the car—how it has tilted off the road and into a dip alongside the highway. The hazard lights flash, barely visible until I’m less than ten feet away.
No. God damn it, no.
“Please be okay. Please be okay.” I spring out of my truck, barely remembering to shut the door behind me.
Ankle deep in snow, I trudge over to the driver’s side of Julia’s car and am about to wrench it open when the door swings towards me. Julia emerges, her cheeks pink and her face contorted into a look of anguish. She doesn’t hesitate to fling herself into my arms, and I catch her.
Relief strikes me when I hold her, wishing I could check her for injuries, but her grip tells me she doesn’t want me to let her go. Panting, she buries her face into my chest and clenches the sides of my jacket in her fists.
“Are you okay?” I’m practically spitting the question. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
She doesn’t answer. She just tightens her hands around my jacket like she wants to hold me tighter, even though it would be impossible.
“I’m so glad I found you,” I finally admit, allowing myself to relax when I realize she’s fine—physically, at least.
I kiss the top of her head. It’s an impulsive decision, and the cold sensation of her hair against my lips is a brutal reality check: She was running away from me.
But Julia isn’t running now. On the contrary, she squeezes me tighter before she cranes her neck to look at me. Her lips find my chin first. My jaw. My cheek. My own lips.
We kiss briefly; it’s too blisteringly cold to be anything but brief. Her body shivers, and I force myself to pull away so I can lead her to my truck.
I help her into the passenger seat before I return to the driver’s side. Once we’re both seated, the silence in the vehicle cuts through the moment and brings me back to reality. Wordlessly, I increase the heat a notch before I look over at Julia. She concentrates on the abandoned Corolla, like she’s cursing it for ending up in a ditch even though she was the one who drove it there.
“My luggage,” she mentions.
Still without a word, I brave the cold once again to retrieve her suitcase and carry-on from the car. She doesn’t thank me when I place them both in the truck’s back row, but her attention lingers on me when I return to my seat.
We remain in silence again. The words aren’t coming to me, and Julia should have nothing to say but an apology—which she’s incapable of offering.
“Look,” she finally begins, breathing out and facing me, “I get it. It was a deal.”
“Doesn’t make it less shitty.”
Her face tightens and she narrows her eyes. “How am I the shitty one? If you wanted hugs and goodbyes kisses, you should have put them in the contract.”
“I thought…” I trail off, the rest of it dancing on the tip of my tongue. But then I look at Julia and see how furious she is to be in the passenger seat—like being here with me is so unbearable.
“What did you think?” she presses, tired of waiting for my response.
Nice. I want to say, I thought it was nice. It’s a simple, stupid word, but it’s true. Last night was nice. Taunting each other. Kissing without planning to. All of it was so different from my experiences with women over the last twenty years. Once I became a billionaire, women started tiptoeing around me like they were so afraid of fumbling their one shot with me. They never disagreed or played hard to get or even told me how to please them in bed. Then Julia came along—a woman who doesn’t give a shit about my money and power. Last night, she reminded me what it feels like to be myself with someone. And it was…nice.
In her defense, she was clear though: She’s been with a lot of men—and she’s proud of it. What was a meaningful, rare night for me was likely par for the course for her. After all, she didn’t bat an eye when I grabbed her. Tied her hands. Choked her. Fucked down into her so hard that her body slid up the mattress.
