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He yanked me into his arms, pressed me against his hard length, my cheek chilled by the nylon of his coat. “Shh,” he whispered in my ear, calmly stroking my back. “It's okay now. Shh.”
As the adrenaline started to dissipate, I noticed how comforting it was to be wrapped in Jack's arms. How good it felt to have him make it all better.
“I have to say, Miller, next time you want me to cop a feel, let's keep the snake out of it.”
I pulled back and swatted him on the arm, chuckling. His attempt at lightening the mood worked.
As we stood there in the freezing cold, Jack making good work of soothing my frazzled nerves, the Oldsmobile drove by. We saw the brake lights, and then watched as the car fishtailed on the packed snow and slid into a ditch. Clearly, Lorraine wasn't skilled at driving in wintery conditions. The car was well off the road, but not far enough for me to panic for the woman’s safety, but the car would be stuck without some people to help push it out. Knowing it was most likely rear-wheel drive, a tow truck would be required.
Loosening his hold, Jack pointed at the car, exhaust coming out in a white cloud. “She knows you.” He stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. Snowflakes stuck to his dark cap. “She's sure of it. She's been following you around for how long?”
I thought for a moment, quirked my mouth. “Um...three days maybe?”
“She's persistent, I'll give her that,” he replied, dryly.
We watched through the falling snow as Lorraine pushed open the driver door, stuck a leg out to stand up. Since the car was angled toward the passenger side into the drainage ditch, the door swung shut, right on her leg. Jack and I both winced.
It was like watching a slapstick comedy routine. After several attempts in her non-winter boots, she got the door to stay open by kicking at it, was ultimately able to climb out and carefully limped over to us. I tucked my scarf around my neck better, keeping the snowflakes out, trying not to imagine what I looked like to Jack freaking out over a loose snake. Thankfully, there wasn't any video footage.
“Are you all right?” I asked, looking at her leg. No blood showed, but it must hurt terribly.
“If you hadn't slept with my husband, I wouldn't be here right now, freezing my ass off.”
Violet. Had to have been Violet.
“I think you're looking for her sister,” Jack said, pointing to me. He lifted his shoulders against the snow.
Lorraine shook her head vehemently, thick flakes getting lost in her bleach blonde hair. “Nope. I'm looking foryou. I saw you driving together. I recognize you.”
“I'm an identical twin.”
Lorraine snorted. “Yeah, right. And I'm Cindy Crawford. I've heard that before. Good one.” She looked to Jack. “So Romeo, is what she says true?”
Jack shrugged his already raised shoulders. “Trust me, she's a twin. I couldn't keep them straight either.” He turned to me, gave me the eye. “See, I'm not the only one who can't tell you apart.”
I gave him a withering look, although it had no effect on him.
“Let's go get thistwinof yours and I'll be on my way,” Lorraine said, rubbing her hands together.
Crap. “She's at a teacher's conference in Salt Lake.”
“Sure, she is. Until she gets back from this so-called trip, I'll be on you like a fly on shit.”
I cringed at the lovely metaphor. She and Goldie should get together.
Jack threw an arm around my shoulder and leaned in close so only I could hear. His breath was warm on my ear. I smelled his skin, manly and spicy and dark. Goose bumps rose and it wasn't from the cold. “Remember the saying, 'Keep your friends close but your enemies closer?' We might just want to go along with her here. I think she's one step away from losing it.”
We both looked at her. Bandaged hand, shot out coat, gimpy leg. The woman was not having a good day. And as far as she was concerned, I'd slept with her husband. Jack was right. It wasn't a good idea to mess with a woman scorned.
“Lorraine, do you need help getting your car out of the ditch?” I asked in my sweetest voice. If we were doing the whole metaphor thing, then I wanted to be the honey, not the vinegar.
“Hell, no. Let that piece of shit rot, for all I care. I'll take your van.” She stalked past us toward the van.
“What? No way! It has all my tools, my entire business in it,” I said, outraged.
“Tough,” Lorraine said, running faster than I figured considering her injuries. I made a dash for her, slipped on some ice, but Jack was there to grab my arm and keep me from falling on my ass. Unfortunately, that small window allowed Lorraine to hop in the driver's seat and smack a hand down on the lock.
I was winded, full of adrenaline from my near slip. I pounded on the window with my palms, but the sound was muffled with my mittens. “Lorraine!”
