Page 56 of Bullseye
“Well, you got a friend who can trailer your bike? Sweet ride by the way.”
“Thanks. And no.”
“Then, you’d better get yourself to a motel for the night. And fast. We’re expecting over two feet. Blizzard conditions. Whiteout.” He starts putting my things into a bag as he nods to the outside.
“No bag, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Turning the bag upside down, it all falls onto the counter. “I’m leaving here in ten minutes myself. If I were you, I’d get going.”
Careful of my cell phone screen, I shove the goods into my bag. “How close is the nearest hotel?”
“Forty minutes back that way.” He points in the direction I just came from.
Damn.
“How much do I owe you?”
Holding up his hand, he shakes his head. “It’s on the house.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Grab yourself a hot coffee, too. Gonna keep your belly warm for a bit.”
“Thanks.” Hurrying to the coffee machine, I pull the lever and fill a cup. Walking back to the door, I hold up the coffee. “Really, thanks again.”
“Ain’t nothing. Now go. I’ve got to close down and get out of here myself.”
Taking a few sips of coffee, and basking in one more moment of warmth, I gather my courage and step outside. Instantly, the wind and snow smack me, and it’s already miserable.
Tossing my coffee cup in a nearby trash can, I hunch my shoulders up and trudging forward against the wind, I try to stay upright. Thankfully, there’s nothing sticking to the roads yet, but it’ll probably be just a couple of minutes until that happens.
Pushing myself forward, I make my way to my bike. Placing a hand to my face, my cheek stings and burns in response. I’m already windburned. Damn, that short stay in the hot Arizona sun has thinned my blood and turned me into one hell of a wuss. Okay, I have two options: I can double back and find that hotel forty minutes in the wrong direction and lose ground, or I can push forward. But as the wind smacks against me, I wonder if that’s even possible.
One thing is for sure, standing here won’t do anything. Straddling my bike, I turn the key and roll forward, moving my bike to face the street.
Ahead, there’s a set of headlights bobbing in time with a car that’s rising and falling in and out of potholes. Another poor soul caught in this. The headlights grow brighter as the car comes nearer and nearer.
“Wait a sec,” I mumble. “That’s not a car, it’s a truck. And it… it looks a lot like Avery’s truck...”
Shaking my head, I know my mind is playing tricks on me. Yes, I would fall to my knees and kiss the snow in gratitude if that were truly Avery, but… it makes no sense. He has no way of knowing where I am, and considering the way I left things between us, even if he did know where I was, he probably wouldn’t care.
“Seneca!”
It’s him. His window is open, and he’s waving frantically as he calls my name.
Standing here, straddling my bike, shivering—freezing from the cold and drenched from the snow—I’m warm for the first time in days.
“Seneca.”
Parking the truck, he hops out and comes running toward me. Leaning over my bike, he pulls me into his embrace.
“Thank god. I didn’t know if I would find you.”
As he holds me tighter, I give myself over, pushing myself against him, breathing him in.
Pulling back, he looks me up and down. “Thank god you’re safe.”
“How?” I stare into his eyes. “How did you find me?”
