Romeo picked up the radio. “Still heading west toward the Cascade River. I’ll turn around there and head back.” He paused, wanting to ask just how long Sammy expected him to keep scraping the roads. Because he also had a business to run, and if he remembered correctly, he had a reservation coming in tonight. He couldn’t remember who, but at some point, he should probably be at the front desk to check them in. Show them some Minnesota-nice hospitality.
If Owen were here, he’d have his pretty wife, Scotty, to fill in for him at the desk, probably four-month-old Paxten on her hip. Or maybe his brother Casper would come over, although Casper had his own plowing contracts in and around town. In a pinch, Grace Sharpe, their sister, might come down, especially now that Max was back from Mayo Clinic, recovering from his latest Huntington’s trial.
But no, the entire family had abandoned Romeo without a glance behind.
“How are you doing on gas?” Sammy’s voice came through the radio.
Right. Gas. Romeo had barely looked at the tank, having filled up at the garage before the day started. He’d also done a walk around the plow, checking the lug nuts on the tires, the brakes, the plow blade, and even the windshield wiper fluid. Reminded him a little of his days as a smokejumper, watching the pilots do a preflight check.
“Less than a quarter tank.”
“Swing back in and fill up. Colleen and Jack brought in some chili. It’s going to be a long night.”
Romeo confirmed, trying to keep the groan out of his voice, and hung up the radio. He picked up his travel mug.
The coffee had turned to ice. He drained it anyway.
Outside, the late afternoon had turned to shades of deep gray, the whiteout still brutal—maybe thirty feet of visibility, just headlights cutting through the fog of snow. It didn’t help that the plow made its own storm, kicking up the powder both from the tires and the massive wave of snow that he dumped into the ditch. After ten hours of plowing, he could barely hear his own thoughts, the roar of the truck finding his bones. The wipers could lull him to sleep, and save for the heat blowing in his face, cold had turned his entire body numb.
He should have worn the padded coveralls, but he’d only pulled on a parka, a hat, gloves, his jeans, and boots this morning. He knew better, frankly, after living in Alaska the past two winters.
He tried not to think of Owen by the poolside. Instead, he was searching through his brain for one, just one, good reason why he’d said yes to Uncle John’s pleading missive to return to Deep—
Lights flashed in his side mirror, and he jerked at the sight of a car coming up alongside him, trying to pass.
What. An. Idiot.
He didn’t touch his brakes—sure, the blade might slow him down, but it also might spin him. Better to stay steady and let this joker pass—
Lights ahead cut through the fog.
An oncoming car.
He glanced at the passer, and his breath caught.
This was going to be ugly. And maybe even fatal.
The car seemed to slow, and Romeo pressed on the gas, hoping to give the guy room to slide back in.
The lights ahead grew bigger, the passing car still in their lane.
Oh—
And for a second, just one second, he was back in Alaska, watching through the smoke and ash as Disco’s chute refused to deploy, the recruit screaming as he drifted down on his own round, Romeo helpless as his recruit plunged to earth.
Then he was back, riding on instinct.
He touched his brakes and jerked the truck over, hoping the car might find room beside him.
The truck started to slide.
The oncoming driver also hit his brakes. The car skidded, took a brutal turn, then jerked back.
The car in the middle held course.
As Romeo sucked in his breath, the passing car sailed right between them, escaping the swing of the truck’s back end.
The other car somehow skated into the ditch. It bumped along the snowbank, sending up a plume of debris into the thick air.
Romeo dropped his blade, and it dug into the snow, slowing him. The truck shuddered, then jerked to a stop.
For a second, he just sat there, tasting his heartbeat.
The red lights of the passing car disappeared into the whiteout.
Romeo unhooked his belt, opened the door, checked the highway for lights, then jumped out, running across the highway to where the car—an older model Honda CR-V—sat against the snow. It didn’t look like they were badly stuck—probably a good push would dislodge them.
But honestly, he was shaking, his breaths thin as the driver rolled down his window.
“You okay, son?” Early sixties maybe, salt-and-pepper hair, concern in his eyes.
Romeo drew in a breath, still trying to find his voice, when the back, passenger window rolled down.
A woman, mid-twenties maybe, sat in the back seat, her blonde hair streaming out under a pom-pom cap, her eyes alight. “What was that? You trying to get us killed?”
Romeo stared at her, and maybe it was the cold, or the hunger, or the hours, or just the fact that he’d been dealing with road crazies all day, but he simply couldn’t help it.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I was trying to do. Because anyone out in this storm is already tempting fate, and I thought I’d give them a little push over the edge. Welcome to Deep Haven!”
Then he turned, looked both ways, and jogged back to his truck.
He was about to get in when he heard it—the unmistakable sound of tires spinning.
Shoot.
Turning, he spotted the old guy trying to back up, spitting out road slime from his tires.
Perfect.
He jogged back over and simply headed to the front of the car, got down and put his weight against the bumper. “Put her in reverse!”
The man waved out the window and gunned it.
Snow and dirt spat out from the front tires, coating Romeo’s jacket, wetting his jeans. But the car moved out of the snowbank and onto the shoulder, free.
He stood up, brushing himself off as the driver got out.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“Sorry about my daughter. She was just scared.”
“I get it.”
Snow fell on his hat, his eyelashes, and he shivered.
“Do you know how the roads are north of town? We’re staying at the Evergreen Resort tonight, but I’m afraid the road in won’t be plowed.”
He wanted to groan. “I plowed it this morning, but I’ll head up there and make sure the road in is clear.”
“Really?”
“I’m the… I’m with the resort. You’re Reverend Brown, Pastor Dan’s friend?”
“I am.” He held out a gloved hand for Romeo to shake.
“I’d like to be at the desk when you arrive, but I have a long night ahead of me, so—”
“No worries, son. We can check ourselves in. Where do you want us?”
Romeo’s brain simply went blank. He knew he had reserved one of the cabins for them, but— “I think cabin six is yours.” Yes, that sounded right.
“Perfect. Thank you.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll bet this place is gorgeous when the sun is shining.”
Romeo nodded. “It’s worth the trip, I promise. You’ll never want to leave.” He smiled his best Christiansen-family smile.
“Can’t wait.” Reverend Brown got back into his car as Romeo ran across the road again.