Page 18 of The Route to You

“Yeah, no problem.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Feel free to get as close as you want. The stove doesn’t have boundaries.”

Her lips didn’t even twitch.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to process the fact that Sloan was in his cabin, the night before her wedding, in a snowstorm, without a coat. Among the realities he had not mentally prepared for, this ranked high.

“You . . . uh . . . you want a cup of coffee or something? Or soup—I’ve got some ramen. And by ramen, I mean the kind that’s somehow still under a dollar, wrapped in plastic, and tastes slightly like regret.”

“Okay.” Her voice was thin. Exhausted. Like she’d just about given up hope before she’d come to his door, and she wasn’t quite sure this was real either.

Or maybe he was projecting his own sense of disbelief about the turn of events. He hadn’t wanted or anticipated company . . . but she clearly needed help and he wasn’t about to begrudge her that.

She didn’t speak as he went over to the duffel bag he’d packed with supplies and pulled out a packet of ramen. Then he grabbed the kettle from the brick beside the stove and set it on the flat top. He didn’t have anything other than his camp mess kit with the one fork, knife, and spoon combo but it was clean.

He couldn’t ignore her obvious distress.

“So . . . everything okay?” he asked as he tugged open the ramen package.

She didn’t look at him, staring at the stove, long pretty lashes blinking slowly.

Her eye makeup was sort of smudged.

His heart beat faster. Did that bastard fiancé of hers hit her or something?

“No,” she said softly. “I just didn’t know where else to go.” Her eyes flicked up at him. “I’m sorry. I remembered the name of the place you said you were staying, and I just . . .”

He slipped the dried noodles into the bowl and then set it down on the small table where he’d been eating his meals, his shoulders growing taut. He gave her a minute to finish what she’d been saying, and when she didn’t, he ground his teeth. Something must have happened. Something bad enough to make her run.

But why come to me?

“What about your dad? Or your sister? Weren’t they at the hotel?”

“Yeah.” She shook her head, as though clearing her thoughts, then tugged his parka closer around herself. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to intrude on your space. Actually, I rented a cabin around here, but the driver who brought me here couldn’t make it down the road, so he left me up at the top of the street. A-and then I couldn’t find it and he was gone and . . . I’m sorry.”

She stood abruptly, like she was getting ready to take flight. “I didn’t know what else to do but call you.”

“You’re fine.” He held a hand up. “It’s okay. It’s dark and it’s snowing out there. If you show me the reservation information, I can grab a flashlight and see if I can’t find where your cabin is and help you get there.” He gave her a closer look. “But, uh . . . why don’t you have a coat?”

She shook her head. “I forgot it.”

He stared at her. “In January.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m not an idiot.”

He raised his hands. “Didn’t say that you were.”

“You implied it.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I implied Colorado was cold,” he said, dead serious. “Which is the one fact I’m willing to stake my life on.”

She huffed a breath that was almost a laugh, then looked away.

“Sorry.” He didn’t mean the chuckle that escaped him, but it came out anyway. “I’m not trying to make light of it. You just seem like you might be in trouble.”

“I just . . . forgot it. I was in a hurry when I left. And then when I realized I didn’t have it, I couldn’t go back for it.”

In a hurry to get away from what?

Or better yet . . . who?