Page 9 of Beautiful Distraction

“Why were storm force winds mentioned then? What is this ifnot a hurricane?”

Mandy casts me a short side-glance. “A little storm orhurricane won’t stop us from having the adventure of a lifetime. For all weknow, it might not even hit Montana. They said so on TV. We both know theweather newscast tends to be a little overdramatic.”

There, she just said the word.

Oh, my frigging God.

The wind howls louder, the trees whip back and forth in awild frenzy, and the car trembles with the force coming sideways. Mandy triesnot to show it, but I can see the whites on her knuckles as she holds ontightly to the wheel, forcing the car to stay on course.

I try to calm my thumping heart, but it’s hard. Hurricanes areunpredictable. Mandy might even be right about the last part, but I don’t wantto be outside, in the middle of frigging nowhere, to find out. I sigh and slumpinto the passenger seat, keeping my eyes focused on the road ahead, prayingwe’ll reach our destination soon—a hotel near Madison Creek.

The tickets couldn’t have come at a more fortunate time.Mandy had been a fan for ages. She had also been talking about looking forwardto a last adventure together. With my career as a journalist really taking off,Mandy figured we might as well see more of the world before we end up stuckbehind a desk in an air-conditioned office in stuffy New York City. Not that Idon’t like NYC; I’ve lived there my whole life and couldn’t imagine livinganywhere else in the world. But lately, it’s been oppressing…filled with peopleand memories I want to push into the proverbial filing cabinet deep inside mybrain.

That was the only reason why I agreed to trudge along.

“This kind of wind rarely lasts more than an hour,” Mandysays, resuming the conversation.

“I hope so,” I mutter and close my eyes, slumping deeperinto my seat. “So, where are weexactly?”I ask for the umpteenth time.

“It’s a road trip, Ava. The beauty of it is that youdon’tknow where you are,” she saysdryly, leaving the rest open to interpretation.

I watch her in thought.

Her lips are pressed together, and her grip on the steeringwheel has tightened.

“Basically, you have no idea where we are,” I saymatter-of-factly.

She shrugs. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m so not wrong.”

I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she hasn’t thought abouta stopover to get dinner either.

I should have known better than to leave the planningdetails to her. Now, with thick rainclouds roiling and twisting over our heads,and the wind picking up in speed, I can only hope the satnav will guide ussafely to the nearest town.

I groan audibly to communicate my displeasure. “You said youwere taking a shortcut, but this shortcut is taking longer than the estimatedtime to arrival. How do you explain that?”

“Fine. If youmustknow.” Mandy shoots me a disapproving look. “We sort of got a bit off track,but don’t worry, we’ll get there eventually.”

I sit up, suddenly alert. “What do you mean by ‘off track’?”

Warily, I peer at the satnav, which is a palm-sized blackdevice attached to the windshield, its screen turned to Mandy. Given thatneither I nor Mandy are particularly adept at reading road maps, the wholepurpose of buying the thing was to get us from A to B without the need for amap. I realize it’s been at least two hours since we last stopped at a petrolstation. It’s been even more than that since we last drove past a city.

With a strong sense of foreboding in the pit of my stomach,I turn the screen toward me and realize in horror that all it shows is acountry road surrounded by a huge patch of green and a message stating ‘noservice available at this time.’ There’s no street name, no information on thenearest highway, no sign of a petrol station or motel. Wherever we are, it’snot on the freaking map.

Shit!

We probably left civilization behind a few hours ago.

“We’re off the grid,” I say, mortified, as I stare at thescreen. “Mandy!”

“It’s not a big deal.” She shrugs again.

“How can you say it’s not a big deal? We’re lost.”

“We’re not lost,” Mandy protests feebly. We’ve been friendsfor ages, which is why I know she’s lying. She catches my glance. “As soon asthe storm calms down, the satnav will start working again. I’m pretty sure we’reheaded in the right direction anyway.”

“How do you know?”

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