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"You saw my car crash?" I ask.
"I saw your headlights veer off the road."
"Oh." I watch him. "It was really scary, could have been a lot worse though."
He nods once.
I twist my hands in my lap as I think of the right thing to say. "How far away is town?"
"About twenty miles."
I nod as I listen. "And you live out here?"
"Yep." His eyes stay on the road.
Okay, it's quite clear he doesn’t want to talk, but for some reason I feel like I need to. "Thank you again, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come."
His eyes flick over to me. "That was a good plan."
I frown, not understanding.
"The sticks under the wheels, that was a good plan."
I smile, feeling proud of myself. "Thanks."
"It wouldn’t have worked in these conditions," he continues. "But a good plan, just the same."
"Oh." I shrug. "I had to try something at least."
He remains silent.
"I'm Holly, by the way."
His eyes flick over to me. "Hi Holly."
"Do you have a name?"
"Jack."
"Hi Jack." I twist my fingers some more; his lack of polite conversation is unsettling. The rain is really coming down hard and I think about what could have happened if he hadn’t come along. "This weather is horrendous," I say.
He keeps driving.
"If you hadn’t come along..."
"I did though." He cuts me off.
Okay, shut up. Shut up now. We drive in silence until we get to a sign that says:
Welcome To Cantwell
Thank God, civilisation.
"If you could just drop me at a hotel, that would be great."
He drives without saying a word. Unbelievable, he borders on rude. It's just awkward.
We turn a corner and then he pulls into a parking lot and I see the hotel sign. Relief fills me and we both peer through the windshield at the deserted looking hotel. No lights are on and nobody seems to be around.
"Is it open?" I frown.
He shrugs and gets out of the car. The rain is blowing sideways from the wind and I stay put as I watch him approach the front doors. He reads a sign and turns back and gets in and starts the car. "What are you doing?" I ask.
"It's closed."
"What?"
He pulls out onto the road.
"Okay, just take me to another hotel."
"That’s it."
I frown. "What do you mean, that’s it?"
"There's only one hotel here and they are closed all month, I remember now that they went interstate."
"Well…. what will I do?"
"You'll stay with me."
"What?"
"You'll stay in my cabin."
"No." I shake my head. "That’s not a good idea, no offence, but I don’t know you and I don’t feel comfortable doing that."
"Okay." He turns the corner.
My eyes flick between him and the road. "What do you mean …. okay?"
"Okay, I'll just drop you back off at your car."
"You want me to stay in my car in the forest?" I gasp.
"No. You want to stay in your car."
"I didn’t say that," I snap.
He turns his attention to me; his eyes are hard and cold. "I'm not in the mood for this shit. You stay at my cabin or you go back to your car. Make your decision because I'm going home."
"Well…. where will I stay at your house?" I stammer.
"In my bed."
My horrified eyes hold his.
He rolls his eyes. "I'll be on the couch, don’t flatter yourself."
2
Holly
"Oh," my eyebrows rise in surprise. Don’t flatter yourself. What the hell?
"I wouldn’t," I snap. "I simply didn’t want to be an imposition." I cross my arms angrily. This guy is an asshole. A bona fide asshole. And he's full of himself, too.
"I'll take the couch," I spit.
"You are an imposition, so that suits me fine," he mutters.
"You're a real knight in shining armour, you know that?"
His face crinkles into a smirk and then a broad smile.
"You find this amusing?" I squeak.
He smiles as he watches the road.
"For your information…. Jack," I snap. "I'll have you know that I would not flatter myself by thinking you wanted to sleep with me. I would be flattering you."
He raises an eyebrow as if surprised. "Is that why you’re wearing stripper clothes?" He pauses as if searching for the right words. "To… flatter me?"
"What?" I gasp. "Stripper clothes…you must be joking?"
He glances down at my tight skirt, stockings and high heels all covered in mud and raises his eyebrow once more.
I inwardly cringe. Oh Hell, what must I look like? "I don’t know what strippers wear in Alaska, but I can tell you that they must be very different from the strippers in New York. And actually…this work suit is Armani," I announce.
"Are-who -ee?"
I roll my eyes and fold my arms in a huff. Please shut up, you cave man.
"There is no way in hell that you would wear that to work," he replies casually as he drives. His voice is deep and husky.
"And why not?"
"How would you get any work done?"
