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“You said—” She trailed off as she likely played back my statement in her head. I moved my hand in a circle to goad her, and she continued. “But you said—”
“I said if I wasn’t so arrogant, I would offer my suite for you to crash in. But as you said, I’m arrogant.” I opened the door and hopped into my truck, starting it. She stood in front of it and wasn’t moving. I rolled down my window. “Are you going to get out of the way?”
She nodded and stepped back before her face fell.
I cursed under my breath. “Hop in,” I said, and tapped the outside of my door to urge her on.
Fuck my life. She looked up with such a forlorn expression, I almost felt like an ass for not getting out and helping her in on the other side. That was before she spoke.
“I shouldn’t.”
It was cold as hell outside, and my truck took time to heat up. Having the window down wasn’t helping matters. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re here,” I said.
“Why is that?” she moved closer.
“When you get hypothermia, they may be able to bring you back to life.” I flashed her a grin just as light snow began to fall as if on cue.
I inched the truck forward as she held up a hand. “Wait.”
“Come on sweetheart. Either you’re coming or not... Don’t you have friends that live here whom you can couch surf with?”
“I’m not even sure why I’m telling you this, but I’m a traveling nurse. This is my first day in town. So no, I don’t have any friends to couch surf at their place.”
I cursed. Why couldn’t I drive away? “Then sounds to me like I’m your only option.”
“I thought you weren’t offering?” she said, with a smug crook of her lips.
“Yet you’re not letting me go either. I’d like to get to the hotel before the roads get bad. Make up your mind,” I prodded.
“I don’t know you.”
I held my hands up in the air—one inside and the other one outside the truck. “I don’t know you either.”
“Okay, can I take your picture?” I sighed and she came over. She was a tiny thing and standing next to my truck we still weren’t eye to eye. She angled her phone’s camera up to get the both of us in a picture. She stepped back and took a picture of my truck. When she walked around front, I thought she was coming to the other side. Nope. She got a picture of the front license plate with me in the cab if I guessed right. Only then did she come back over to the driver’s side and said, “Can I see your driver’s license?”
I probably should have told her to fuck off and drove away, but something had me reaching in my back pocket, and I pulled out my wallet. I held out for her to inspect.
She rubbed her arms, and I knew she was freezing her ass off as she looked at it. Her jaw dropped. “You’re from Clinestown?”
That was unexpected. My small town wasn’t known by many. “Yeah, why? Heard of it?”
“No freaking way. I’m from Hart’s Falls.”
We stared at each other another second. “Small world,” I muttered, trying to conjure my brain for any recollection of her. We could have gone to the same high school depending on where she lived in Hart’s Falls. But she didn’t look familiar.
As if to prolong this, she asked, “Why are you doing this? Only a serial killer would offer a perfect stranger to share a hotel room.”
I’d almost reached my limit of bullshit as I was doing her a favor. “You know where I’m from, people help other people out. My mother would kick my ass if I didn’t offer to help someone in need.”
She shook her head, and I was that close to giving up. “What are the odds?”
I didn’t answer because I’d already asked myself that very question. “It’s up to you. You can stay out here and freeze or you can go into the hospital and wait until you figure it out what you’re doing.”
“Waiting inside isn’t an option. The last thing I need is for my new boss to find me sleeping in the waiting room…”
That was it. I was done debating helping her. “I’m about five seconds away from leaving you here.”
“Fine.” She didn’t get into the car. She brought out her phone and began typing on it.
“Are you coming or not?” I snapped.
“Just a second.” Next thing I knew she was video chatting with someone.
“I’m bumming a room with…”
When she waited, I filled in the blank. “Liam Taylor.” Though she’d seen my license. Legally, Taylor, not King was my surname. It was mother’s name as my father hadn’t accepted me and Mom hadn’t legally pursued the issue.
