Page 4 of Rock with You
Twisted Branch Lane was on the other side of town, about a fifteen-minute drive from the bakery. It was a quarter to five now so she should be in good shape even with the weather. She pulled onto Main Street and headed east. This side of town boasted steep, winding roads with houses and rental cabins that had sweeping views of the Smoky Mountains.
She turned left onto Twisted Branch Lane and drove. And drove. She passed a handful of rental properties near the start of the road, but they grew more spread out—and bigger—the farther she went. She’d never been this far down the road before. It was about as remote as you could get inside Haven’s town limits.
And shit. That tap, tap, tapping on her roof sounded an awful lot like ice. She’d have to unload everything quickly and head straight home. Forget the sandwich supplies and batteries.
She rounded a turn, and Sam’s house came into view. Whoa. It was huge, a classic-looking mountain cabin with oversized windows and a deck overlooking the mountains and valley below. Cabin seemed like the wrong word for this place, though. It had to be at least two thousand square feet inside. Her own cabin would probably fit inside the living room of this house.
No cars were visible in the driveway. She’d arrived before the party guests, which was good because she had no desire to mingle with Sam’s fancy friends. She tapped her brakes as she glided down the hill to his driveway, and her wheels spun slightly on the gravel road.
Slush was gathering on her windshield now, and she might be in big trouble if she didn’t get out of here quickly. She eased the car into the driveway and turned off the engine. Gulping a fortifying breath, she got out of the car and walked toward the front door.
It opened before she got there. Sam stood in the doorway, wearing the same long-sleeved black T-shirt and dark-washed jeans he’d had on earlier. Without the baseball cap, she got the full effect of his tousled brown hair, and damn, he was gorgeous. He gave her a warm smile, then turned his eyes skyward. “Looks like you were right about the weather.”
“It wasn’t supposed to change over for another hour,” she said, stopping on his front porch with her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat.
“I’m sorry for bringing you out in this, although I’m not sorry for the chance to see you again.” Now his smile was flirtatious. He probably flirted with every woman he met, but try convincing her silly hormones of that. Her stomach was a massive swarm of butterflies right now.
“I’m afraid your party might get canceled,” she said.
He raised one shoulder, looking unconcerned. “Can I help unload your car?”
“Oh, um…well…” She definitely should not let Sam Weiss help unload her car, but the rain had turned to full-on sleet now, and as much as she’d love to stand here and chat with him, she really needed to get out of here fast if she was going to make it home in one piece. “I guess we need to do this as quickly as possible if I’m going to make it back up that hill.”
He nodded, grabbed a leather jacket from inside the door, and led the way to her car. She slipped on the driveway, and Sam’s arm shot out to catch her. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to stay until they’ve plowed the roads?”
She shook her head. “They aren’t going to plow this road. If I don’t get out of here right now, who knows when I’ll be able to.” Worry settled in her stomach. What if she couldn’t make it back out? Crappity crap crap.
“Do you have good tires?” he asked, his brows knitted in concern.
She nodded. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted. I hope I didn’t bring too much.”
He glanced into her car, piled high with delivery boxes, and laughed softly. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
She raised the rear hatch, and she and Sam grabbed as many boxes as they could carry. Five minutes later, they’d transferred everything to his front porch, where he’d insisted she leave it to get back on the road more quickly. He handed her several crisp hundred-dollar bills—at least one more than she had planned to charge him—and wow, if it wasn’t sleeting like crazy, she’d definitely stop on the way home for an expensive bottle of wine to go with her peanut butter and jelly.
“I don’t like this at all, Carly,” he said, kicking at the icy slush coating his driveway. “Even if you make it up the hill, how will I know you’ve made it home safely?”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted, even though she really wasn’t sure of that at all. “We get ice like this here in the mountains a lot.” And she always got home ahead of it and stayed in until it had passed, but it was too late to change things now.
“Hand me your phone,” he said, his voice quiet but with an authoritative tone that had her yanking her phone out of her back pocket and handing it to him. He typed something into it and handed it back to her. “Text me when you get home so I know you’re okay.”
She nodded, breathless. Sam Weiss’s number was in her phone.
He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he tucked a soggy strand of hair behind her ear, and holy crap, she couldn’t breathe. Maybe she’d always had a bit of a celebrity crush on him, but real-life Sam was way better. He made her heart race, and her belly turn into a big puddle of mush, and she really needed to go before the roads got so bad she killed herself on the way home, but…
“Drive safe. And text me. Promise?” His voice was hypnotizing, his blue eyes locked on hers.
“Promise.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, and this was getting ridiculous now. She managed a silly wave as she sloshed back to her car—grateful for her boots—and climbed inside.
Sam stood on the porch next to the pile of delivery boxes, watching. She backed up the car, turned, and started up the hill toward reality. Halfway up, her tires started to spin. Uh oh.
She glanced in her rearview mirror to see Sam still watching from his porch. Her tires spun again. The car was losing speed. She nudged the accelerator, knowing if she stopped now, she’d never make it to the top. The car fishtailed, and she let out a squeal as she careened toward the edge of the road.
2
Sam led the way inside. Carly stopped in the entranceway, staring at him with those big, brown eyes. Her blonde hair glistened with ice as damp strands framed her face.
“I should, um, I should call someone,” she said.