Page 8 of Mistletoe Detour


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I shot Blaze a look. “We should probably get moving if we’re going to stay ahead of it.”

He nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Agreed.”

We hustled to pay, and with one last look at our picture on the wall—a testament to our shared journey—I followed him out into the snowy night.

Back on the road, the car’s heater blasted against the creeping chill as we pushed forward into the vast expanse of America’s heartland.

“So,” I ventured, tapping my fingers against my knee, “what’s the strategy for outrunning a storm?”

Blaze glanced at me with mock seriousness. “Speed and cunning,” he said. “And your impeccable choice in travel companions.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Modesty clearly isn’t your strong suit.”

He grinned that half-cocked smile that did funny things to my insides. “I left that back at the diner with half our fries.”

We sped through Iowa and into Nebraska, pausing just for gas and to switch drivers so Blaze could catch some sleep, having not slept yet. Whether we were chatting, singing to the radio, or sitting quietly, the spark between us lingered—an electric jolt when our eyes locked, a longing in my fingers to reach for him.

Once he dozed off, I could freely steal looks without the fear of him catching me ogling him.

I hadn’t planned on disturbing him, but as we neared the place where Route 80 passed near the Colorado border, traffic slowed to a crawl. Blaze jolted awake as I hit the brakes for the umpteenth time. “What’s the holdup?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes like he could scrub away the gridlock.

“Some kind of snafu up ahead. No clue why; we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Let’s see if the radio’s got the scoop.” He turned the dial just in time for the bad news.

“Christ, a sixteen-car circus act,” Blaze groaned, killing the radio. “Did we miss the 76 exit yet?”

“Nah, it’s up the road. We could reroute through 76 to 70,” I suggested, “though it’ll tack on a good three hours.”

He let out a grumble. “Fantastic. I guess that beats rotting here.”

“Yes, I’d rather not risk being stuck if we need gas or a bathroom.” I grinned at him. “Not all of us can just use an empty bottle.”

Blaze rolled his eyes and ignored my jab, his fingers dancing over the GPS, desperate for a magic path through the chaos.

“I’ve heard Colorado is just as stunning as Wyoming,” I remarked. “It would be cool to visit the Mile-High City. Once, I had a layover in Denver, but all I saw was the airport interior.”

He sounded annoyed as he replied, “This was simply the quickest way. I told my aunt when I’d get to the house based on that.”

“They’ll understand,” I reassured him. “Let’s take 76, stop at the first rest area, and update everyone. We don’t want them worrying, and we’ll still make it back before Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, sinking into his seat with a sigh. “I just hate when plans get disrupted.”

“I notice that,” I said with a smile at his irritation. “But maybe there’s a different way to view this.”

“Like how?” he inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Think of it not as an inconvenience but an adventure,” I suggested, stealing a glance his way and feeling that familiar warmth in my stomach. “Like the canceled flights. If it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t have met, and I’m really enjoying our journey together.”

For what felt like a long minute, his gaze rested on me, and I fought the urge to fidget.

“Fine,” he finally conceded, not concealing his hesitance. “I’ll try to see this as another adventure.”

“Good.”

“Still, I’m crossing my fingers for no more surprises.”

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