Page 14 of Beautiful Distraction

“Say again?”

“Our car’s stuck down the road,” I say and point behind mein a broad circle because suddenly I can’t remember which direction I camefrom.

His shrug is almost unnoticeable as he regards me insilence. I open my mouth to explain my situation, when he leans against thedoorframe, his posture hostile.

“What do you want?”

“Isn’t that obvious? A hurricane’s coming,” I say slowly incase he missed the countless weather and safety alerts. Or the pitch-black skyon an otherwise fine afternoon.

“There are no hurricanes in Montana. Only storms.” He eyesme with a frown, as though he suspects me of making up some bullshit excuse toget inside his home and then burgle him. Yeah, I watch the movies.

“This storm’s the reason we’re in trouble,” I mutter. Hisgaze travels to my umbrella. I hide it behind my back before he utters a snarkyremark and I won’t be able to hold my tongue, after which he’ll most definitelykick me to the curb.

“In trouble?” He sounds unconvinced.

Seriously?

“We got lost and need help.” Maybe even a hot cup of coffee,which I don’t mention because, judging from the deep frown lodged on hisstunning face, he doesn’t strike me as the welcoming type.

“The next town’s just a few miles down the road. Just taketwo right turns. You can’t miss it.”

I look at him incredulously. He can’t possibly have saidwhat I just heard, and yet his stony expression speaks volumes. The muscles inhis biceps flex, which is probably a sign that he’s about to slam the door inmy face.

For real.

He can’t do that; he’s our only chance at surviving thenight.

“Wait,” I say before he closes the door.

“What now?” he asks.

I inch forward and plant my foot right next to the doorframeso the door won’t close if he shuts it, and moisten my lips, suddenly aware ofthe wet strings of hair covering half of my face. I can’t blame him for notwanting to help when I probably look suspicious as hell.

“Look.” I grant him a tentative smile. “I had no idea youlived here.”

His brows furrow and his expression darkens, but he saysnothing.

“Honestly, I had no idea,” I add. “If I had known, Iwouldn’t have knocked, but we need help. We really do. My friend, Mandy andI—” I make sure to emphasize Mandy’s name in the hope he’ll be moreinclined to help once he realizes my traveling companion is female“—we’ve been driving for hours. We don’t know our way around this place,and our phone’s not working. Worst of all, the car’s stuck in the mud, and wehave no idea where we are. Is there any way we could use your phone to call forhelp?”

“Lines are down.”

Socially ineptandnota man of many words. What a fine combination.

I cringe inside, but force myself to smile again. I reallydon’t want to ask for what he should have offered five minutes ago, and yet Ihave no choice.

A strong wind tears at my hair, whipping wet strands of itagainst my face. The gust is so strong I tumble forward and almost stumble intohim.

“Would you mind if we stayed for a few hours, just until thestorm’s over?” I ask.

His stare turns a few degrees colder, if that’s evenpossible. Holding my breath, I almost expect him to say no and turn on hisheels, but to my surprise, he just nods and opens the door a little bit wider,though not enough for me to squeeze through.

“How long are we talking about exactly?”

“Three hours max,” I say.

“All right,” he says after a pause. “But only under onecondition: you don’t bring any suitcases. And you take off your shoes. I just hadthis place cleaned. Three hours. Not more. Are we clear?”

I want to point out that those are more than one condition,but now isn’t the time for petty mindedness. So I nod quickly before he changeshis mind.

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