“Driving? For three days? Ten of you in a van? I thought you ruled that out.”
“Casper is worried about the wedding—”
“I got this, Owen. Really. I’ll swing by the place and make sure everything’s fine. The guests are all tucked in, the wood is cut, the place is plowed—calm down. I might even try and throw some lights on the big tree.”
A sigh on the other end suggested that maybe Owen was more worried than he let on.
“Seriously, boss. Nothing is going to burn down. No guest will perish. I promise, everything will be fine.”
“Okay. Just keep the guests warm and happy. We’ll be back as soon as we can. I knew I could count on you, Romeo.”
He didn’t know why those words heated him to his core as he hung up.
Maybe because it wasn’t easy being the outsider, wannabe, tagalong of the Christiansen clan.
And maybe that’s why it had hurt, being left behind. Because no matter how much he wanted it, how much he tried, he’d never really belong.
He had climbed the hill out of Deep Haven and was coming around the curve when the sun hit his mirror, cutting into his eyes. Shoot—he’d forgotten his sunglasses and now squinted, touching his brakes.
Wrong, wrong—the truck started to skid on the veneer of snow. He turned the wheel the opposite direction, and it spun the other way.
Shoot!
Then he spotted the other car, also careening his direction. He winced, bracing himself, everything moving in slow motion on the skating rink of the highway.
His truck landed with a poof into the ditch, a pillow landing, really, for such a big vehicle.
The other car, a mid-sized SUV that should have been able to grab the road, landed frontside in a snowdrift on the opposite side of the road.
Oops.
He got out, not quite as rattled as last night, but still buzzing. Probably the coffee. The lack of sleep. The—oh no. He knew this car. And the woman getting out of the driver’s seat, with the pom-pom hat and the angry set to her mouth.
Oh goody.
“Seriously?” she said as she came toward him.
He took a breath, schooled his voice. “Are you okay?”
She stared at him, her mouth opening, and in that moment, he noticed her pale-blue eyes, her blonde hair spilling out of her hat, and most of all, the way, suddenly, she looked terribly, even beautifully fragile.
And then, right there on the side of the road, she burst into tears.
Oh no, no— No. She wasn’t unraveling here, now, in the middle of nowhere, in front of a stranger who’d nearly killed her, again.
Except it hadn’t been his fault, not really. Stella had probably been driving too fast for the curve, and his truck had just sort of come out of nowhere, and the sun had hit her eyes, and— “I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.”
“Are you hurt?”
Yes. No. Yes—oh, what a complete mess she’d made of things.
So she put her hands over her face, trying to push the tears back, but, well, apparently her heart didn’t want to listen to her brain—as usual—and there she went.
Turning soggy on the side of the highway.
“I don’t know…what to…um…” The man came up to her, his hands out as if wanting to touch her but also not, and so he just stood there, worry on his face.
A handsome face, if she were looking. Same handsome face as last night, although she hadn’t really gotten a good look at it, what with the snow and darkness and—
“And I’m sorry for last night,” she said through her mittens. Wow, she was pitiful.
He took a breath. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m a jerk. And a disaster and…I’m fine. Really.” She wiped her nose with her mitten. “Just leave me here in the ditch.”
He laughed, something bold and thick against the morning. “Right. For one, yes, I see that you’re completely fine. And two, I regularly leave people in the ditch. Especially when they’re wearing the wrong footwear.”
She glanced at her feet. High top Cons. Her travel shoes of choice. Apparently, she hadn’t been thinking yesterday when she’d grabbed a few things from her packed bags and headed out the door for her unscheduled getaway in the woods. “I was supposed to be on a plane for Vienna.”
He made a face. “I’d cry too if I ended up in the ditch instead of Vienna.”
She looked at him. He’d sort of nailed the story of her life.
Then he smiled. Oh, he was cute. Sunshine and heat through her barren soul. She couldn’t help but laugh. “Right.” She wiped her face. “Truth is, it’s just…been a really bad couple of days. And now I’m sabotaging my parents’ second honeymoon.”
“Yikes.” He walked to the front of her car. “No dents in the car. I think you can just back up.”
“Sorry I fell apart.”
“I get it. Adrenaline. Going into the ditch is scary. Especially twice in twenty-four hours. Let’s get you back on the road.”
For some reason, she let out a laugh, and even to her ears it felt a little feral and crazy, and he looked at her, his green eyes wide.
“Sorry. It’s just…it’ll take more than a push to get me back on the road—”
“I don’t think it’s that bad.”
“Oh, it’s that bad. I promise.” She walked over to survey the damage. He was right—she’d barely bumped the sidewalls of snow. But she might need some traction to get the front wheel out.
But that wasn’t the real problem, was it? She turned, staring at the view—the glorious blue lake, the clear sky, the towering evergreens frosted with snow. Okay, she still wanted to cry, but she drew from her stage persona and exhaled. “Ever feel like you’re exactly where you’re not supposed to be?”
He said nothing, and she finally glanced at him. He was looking at her, his mouth a small bud of consideration. Then, “More than you know.”
“Right? I mean, one minute you’re driving along, the next you’re spinning, and snow is flying everywhere—”
“And you end up in Deep Haven instead of Vienna?”
She looked over at him. “Something like that.” She took a breath. “Stella.”
“Romeo.” He shook her hand. “My mother had a sense of humor.” He grinned again, and for a moment, she simply stared. His dark blond hair curled out under his wool hat, and he wore a green canvas jacket with an evergreen tree on the breast pocket and a pair of work boots. He hadn’t shaved either, and the sun picked up the hint of gold in his beard, and hello, his mother had probably known exactly what she was doing. But the last thing she should be thinking about was some random guy when, when—
Well, she just might be the worst judge of character—and currently of decisions—in the world. “It’s a great name.” She walked up to the driver’s door, opened it, and popped the trunk. He backed up, giving her room.
“It’s taught me a few things. Why do you think you’re sabotaging your parents’ second honeymoon?”
A bag of kitty litter sat unopened in the trunk. She made to pull it out, but he grabbed it, clearly familiar with the trick.