Page 111 of Scatter the Bones

Snow crunches under my boots as I step out of the truck. The wind hasn’t let up, but the flurries have slowed.

Paul stops and waves, hurrying over to me. “That was quick.”

I pull the can out of the back. “Didn’t stop to browse. Let’s get that beast going.”

We trudge through the powder to the machine, where I unscrew the cap and tilt the gas can, steady and slow. Fuel splashes into the tank with a satisfyingglug, glug, glug. Paul stands back, arms folded, watching like I’m performing surgery.

“Think it’ll start?” he asks.

“It better.” I set the can aside, prime the engine a couple times, then hit the electric start. The machine coughs, sputters, then rumbles to life like a pissed-off dragon. Runs rough. But at least it’s chugging along now.

Paul lets out a relieved breath. “Damn. I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Just needed to feed it.” I grab the handles. “This thing’s barely broken in.” I bet they didn’t winterize it last year, either. That’s something I can do at the end of the season.

I test the controls, adjusting the chute direction and speed. Tracks grip the snow like tank treads. Yeah, this thing’s a beast.

Before I can get started, footsteps crunch behind me. I turn to find Margot’s dad bundled up in a winter coat, holding out a pair of tan coveralls in one hand and a broken-in Carhartt jacket in the other.

“Here,” he says. “You’ve got more muscle on you, but I think these might fit.”

“Uh.” I glance down at my jeans and leather jacket, the cold sinking into my bones.

Pride begs me to refuse the offer, but he’s right.

“You’ll freeze in that.” He pushes the coveralls toward me.

“Okay.” I grab the clothes from him. “Thanks.”

He nods. “I appreciate the help. I don’t know what happened to Henry.” His frown deepens. “I hope he’s okay.”

“Maybe he’s stuck in the snow somewhere?” I suggest. “Cell service out here’s spotty. Worse in a storm. I’ve got a friend with a plow truck on the way, but I’ll finish the driveway that Paul started and work my way around the house.”

He studies me again with that quiet, assessing look of his. “Thank you, Jensen.”

I return the nod, solid and simple. No need to make it awkward.

What kind of asshole would I be if I just sat around and watched my girlfriend’s family struggle to do a task I can easily handle?

Now that it’s gassed up, I shouldn’t have a problem starting the snow blower again. I shut it off and follow Mr. Cedarwood up the front steps into the house.

Sweet, suffocating heat wraps around me as I step inside. Margot’s waiting to the side. Her dad stops to have a word with her, and she nods.

Someone laid thick, plastic runners over the carpet; even so, I don’t want to track more snow over the house than necessary. I quickly unlace my boots and pop them out on the porch, then step into the coveralls. I shrug my jacket off and Margot tugs it from my hands.

“Thank you,” she says. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Well, I can’t sit and watch your dad and cousin do it, when I know I can help them get it done quicker.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Besides, don’t you and your dad have to get ready for a consultation?”

She nods quickly. “We moved the time back an hour, but yes.”

“So, you do that. And let me worry about the snow.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Margot

The snow didn’t stick aroundfor long.

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