Also by J. Saman
Wild Love Series:
Reckless Love
Love to Hate Her (Wild Minds Duet 1)
Hate to Love Him (Wild Minds Duet 2)
Crazy to Love You
Love to Tempt You
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The Edge Series:
The Edge of Temptation
The Edge of Forever
The Edge of Reason
* * *
Start Again Series:
Start Again
Start Over
Start With Me
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Las Vegas Sin Series:
Touching Sin
Catching Sin
Darkest Sin
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Standalones:
Just One Kiss
Love Rewritten
Beautiful Potential
Forward - FREE
Just One Kiss
Chapter 1
Unedited and subject to change!
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London
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“Dad, just stop. It can’t be helped,” I groan, leaning back in the seat of my two-door Boxster, heading up i-91 North through Vermont on the way up to my parents’ winter home through what appears to be the beginnings of a storm. “The Weather Channel mentioned some snow. Like three-to-six inches max. I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”
“When was the last time you checked that?”
I have to think about this for a second. It’s been a long couple of days. “I don’t know. Friday?”
“It’s Monday, London,” not so kindly points out, his tone growing shrill and agitated. “Monday. Weather changes in this part of the country on a daily basis. We’re supposed to get eighteen-to-twenty-four inches at a minimum and it’s expected to come down fast and hard with the added bonus of some ice mixing in. Hence why your mother and I have both been calling you non-stop for the last two days. The last two days that you’ve been ignoring us.”
I bluster out a frustrated breath. “I was on deadline.”
“I know. You told us that on Friday. At the exact same time we told you that you can work from anywhere.”
I roll my eyes like the petulant child he’s making me feel like. “Stop it with that. I can’t write in a house full of people screaming and watching old movies and shouting at me about decorating the tree or which color of tinsel works best.”
“Or making out like two horny teenagers,” I hear my sister grouses in the background, the ick in her voice unmistakable and loud, since my father always has to have me on speakerphone. Why? Who the fuck knows? That’s just how he rolls.
“Your mother and I have not been making out like two horny teenagers.”
“Liar,” she coughs. “They’re worse than me and Maverick.” Maverick is my eldest sister, Charleston’s–or Charlie as we call her–fiancé. That’s obviously not his real name, but since my sister’s favorite movie is Meet The Parents (Not Top Gun, as you would think) everyone calls him Maverick since she’s his Iceman. I don’t question the logic behind it, since technically it was Goose to his Maverick and Goose dies, but it’s really not worth the effort.
“You wanna talk about horny people going at it all the time, go pop in on Savannah and Royce. They’ve been like bunnies in heat since she got pregnant.” That’s my mother chiming in and I can’t help but growl into the phone.
“How do you think they got pregnant in the first place?” Charlie cackles into the phone.
“You know what?” I interject, my nose scrunched up. “Maybe I’ll turn back around. You’re right, the weather is getting bad.”
Being the only single in a house full of over-love and oversharing can get to be a bit much.
Especially this time of year.
My mother laughs, knowing I’m kidding. As much as I know my family is crazy, I love them to pieces and then a bunch more. And it’s Christmas. The universal time to be with family, crazy or otherwise.
At least that’s how we do it.
No matter what’s going on in our lives, we stop and get together as a family. It’s tradition. Evidently I’m a little late to the party.
“If you had tried to write from here, you’d already be here, safe and sound,” my father cuts in, hating my mother’s oversharing as much as I do. “But instead you’re driving into an area with blizzard warnings in a car that does not have front-wheel drive, let alone all-wheel drive. You could have stopped at the house and picked up one of the SUVs, London. I swear, sometimes you just love screwing with my sanity and blood pressure.” He sighs and I fall silent. “Where are you?” he asks, his tone softening. “Maybe you should just turn back or find a place to stay that’s safe. As much as I need you here to help me balance out your sisters and your mother, I’m worried about you driving in this.”
I glance over at my navigation screen and then quickly back to the road because the snow is falling so thickly, I can hardly see the road ahead of me that is so terribly plowed, it’s ridiculous. This is ski country after all, is it not? Isn’t plowing snow what these people live for up here?
“It looks like I’m close to i-89.” I think. It’s nearly impossible to tell, even on the navigation screen because every few seconds, it cycles like it’s lost. Not all that reassuring.
My dad starts cursing into the phone. “In this weather, that will take you a minimum of two to three hours. Find a motel, London. I don’t like you driving in this.”
“Dad, the day after tomorrow is Christmas Eve. The day after that Christmas. I just want to get there and be with all of you for the holiday. Who knows how long this storm could go on for?”
“That’s why we told you to come up three days ago!”
“Blood pressure,” I remind him. “And now is not the time for the I-told-you-so speech.”
“London, for the sake of my blood pressure and your mother’s, please. I’ll send Fletcher down to fetch you with an all-wheel drive truck, but I hate you driving in that Porsche.”
I look to my left and right out my foggy windows, but there is nothing but evergreens and snow. No towns. No signs. Not even a roadside gas station.
I bluster out a resigned sigh. “Okay, I’ll find something,” I tell him, hoping this weather abates a bit so I can just push on and make it up to the house.
“Call or text when you’re somewhere safe. We love you.”
“Love you too, dad.” I disconnect the call, wiping with my hand against my windshield that is fogging up despite the defroster I have going and the heat I have blasting.
I left New York at eight this morning and the snow started once I hit the Connecticut/Massachusetts border. It’s now noon, which means I’ve been driving in this mess forever, epically slowed down to practically a crawl since the roads are slick and visibility is shit. There are no other cars on the road, and this is what you’d call a major highway. No holiday traffic or ski warriors who are not deturbed by the treacherous white stuff.
It makes no sense to me unless they were smart enough to leave early and beat the storm. Obviously, I need to check my weather app more often or (shudder) listen to my parents more than I do.