Page 9 of Mistletoe Love Match
He’d never seen her like this before. “Do you need medical attention?”
“I need a mobile that isn’t at one percent. I’ve got to talk to my sister. I’ll just charge it while I drive.”
“Are you sure you should be driving?” he asked as she pushed the button to start the car. But just like when she’d tried to unlock it with the fob, nothing happened.
“No, no, no,” she lamented. “Just bloody work.”
He shielded his eyes from the snow. This storm would only intensify, and there was only one option. “We’re both going to Rickety Rock. You can ride with me. It’ll be dark soon. We need to get on the road.”
She pounded the steering wheel again and emitted a piercing yelp.
This tantrum wasn’t helping.
He glanced at the darkening clouds. This storm was nowhere near over, and they didn’t have time for screaming and abusing car parts in a parking lot. “Do you want to come with me, or do you want to keep assaulting the steering wheel until you succumb to hypothermia or break your wrists? My car’s right there, for Christ’s sake,” he added and pointed toward his Jeep.
She banged the steering wheel again. This woman made him wish he were trollied.
“Calliope, I’m offering you a ride. Take it or leave it.”
She rested her head on the steering wheel. “I’ll take it. But I’m not happy about it.”
No shit.
He sighed. “Where’s your bag?”
“In the back,” she answered, then reached behind the seat and manually unlocked the back door.
He retrieved her suitcase and caught sight of the luggage tag. It was a custom plastic label with a photo of Calliope and Callista making kissy lips. He smiled at the image. He couldn’t help it. If anyone could understand the connection between twins, it was her.
“Maybe you’re right,” he began gently. “The Dagbys might have misconstrued the situation with our siblings. Callista and Anders could have asked about opportunities in Denver . . . for the future,” he said, offering her his hand and helping her out of the car.
“What do you mean?” she asked, cooling off a bit as she shut the door and manually locked the vehicle.
“At some point,” he replied, leading her to his Jeep, “Anders and I want to return to Denver to set up a medical practice. And in your case, your brother and grandmother have made Colorado their home. Maybe Callista and Anders were simply researching opportunities—for the future,” he emphasized.
She didn’t answer.
He opened the passenger side door for her. She sank into the seat, simmering with anger.
Or maybe she wasn’t angry.
As he put her bag in the back with his, he caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. The fury in her expression had quelled, and heartbreak registered on her face. She was hurting. The muscles in his chest tightened. Yes, they went back and forth, tossing verbal barbs at each other, but he hated to see her like that. He got in the car and turned to her, but before he could speak, she huffed and started rooting around the console.
“Where’s your charging cord? My mobile is officially dead,” she barked just as his phone pinged. “Is it Anders?” she asked, practically vibrating.
He retrieved his cell from his pocket and stared at the screen. “Yeah, he’s texting me.” He held the phone, so she could read the message.
Anders: I need you to do me a huge favor. Tell me you’re still at Helping Hands. I tried to call but got a message that they’d shut down early.
“Text him back and ask him if he’s brainwashed Callista,” Calliope demanded.
Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m just going to answer him like a non-lunatic.”
Alec: I’m still at Helping Hands. Just getting into my Jeep to head to Rickety Rock. Calliope’s car is giving her trouble, and she’s riding me.
Riding me?
Jesus, what a typo.
