03

Her cardigan hadn’t fared much better than his t-shirt, nor had the cami she wore beneath. The light knit was plastered to her body, molded to her breasts. Pebbled with cold, her nipples stood out like beacons. Beneath Donovan’s gaze, they hardened a little more.

Damn her traitorous body. Seven years meant nothing to it, apparently. Donovan had to be radiating pheromones or something. Why else was she standing there like some bimbo in a wet t-shirt contest instead of the professional woman she’d felt like when she’d left New York with a graduate degree and an internship under her belt ?

Maybe coming back to Willow Heights had been a bad idea. After less than an hour inside town limits, she felt like a teenager again.

« I’ll dry off in my car. » Finally, she opened the door. « Bye, Donovan. »

She almost choked on the farewell, but she had to get away, fast. Feeling eighteen again had her heart racing, her head pounding. A lot of time had passed since then and she’d relished that fact, taken comfort in it. This – these feelings – were unbearable. Feeling as if she were moving deep underwater, the air forced out of her lungs by pressure on all sides, she slid into the driver’s seat.

As soon as she settled her hands on the wheel, she remembered something important : she was trapped. With Donovan’s truck blocking her in, the only way to get back onto the road would be to drive over his lawn. Rain was falling so thick and hard that water was collecting on the ground’s surface – her tires would carve trenches in the soft earth, in the grass he’d obviously taken pains to keep perfect. Her grandmother’s grass.

As rain poured down even harder, she was a prisoner to loyalty, to a horror inspired by the idea of desecrating any part of her grandmother’s estate, even the lawn. Agonizing moments ticked by, each filled with the roar of a thousand pelting raindrops against her windshield.

The sound of a closing door reverberated through the noise, and her gaze was drawn to the rearview mirror. Through a screen of rain and dark glass, she could just barely make out Donovan in the cab of his truck, slowly backing out of her way.

When the driveway was clear, she backed out, leaving him behind.

He’d been right – she didn’t give a shit about the leaves. All she cared about was getting to her new residence and retreating to the sanctuary provided by four walls. Four walls of her own. For the next three months, anyway.

The weather was uncooperative. The rain worsened so much that she could barely see a few yards in front of her car. Thunder rumbled overhead, a roar even louder than the rain. If lightning followed, it was too far away to be seen through the dense clouds overhead. Rain fell so thickly she felt as if she was underwater, driving on the ocean floor.

Forced to move along at a crawl, she persevered. Willow Heights was small – her destination was only a few miles away. A little more time on the rural road circling town and she’d be there, ready to claim her place on the outskirts.

Or maybe not. She clung to the wheel for dear life when she hydroplaned, her tires – shit, how overdue was she for a new set ? – sailing across the pavement like she was in a boat instead of a car. With a groan, she clenched her jaw, setting her teeth against the impact that would be sure to come if she veered off either side of the tree-lined road.

When it finally happened, it came from below her vehicle instead of from one side. Bouncing in her seat, she squeezed her eyes shut as she pumped the break, her overworked calf quivering with desperation. When she finally came to a stop, it rattled every bone in her body.

Pouring rain drummed against the roof and windshield, drowning out the sound of her breathing. She could feel her heart pounding in every pulse point her body possessed. Swallowing, she unbuckled herself and stepped out of the car, grateful that the airbags hadn’t deployed.

Water immediately filled her shoes, and she nearly lost her balance.

« Damn it. » Gripping the open door for support and shielding her eyes against the rain with a hand, she surveyed the recently-purchased three year old coupe, which she was still making payments on. The right front wheel had careened into the overflowing ditch that lined the road – she hadn’t even realized it was there, the water was so high.

Just a few yards ahead, the road was completely flooded, muddy water roaring up from a stream that was supposed to run under the road and exit through a pipe that stuck out the other side.

Getting back into her car, she turned the key in the ignition and gave backing out of the ditch her best attempt.

It didn’t work. If anything, she could actually feel the car sinking lower, the spinning wheel entrenching itself in the ditch’s muddy interior. Breathing a curse, she stopped, grabbed her purse and fished out her phone.

Minutes ticked by as she stared at the screen, reality setting in. She had no one to call. This wasn’t New York City – Willow Heights’ only cab company had maybe three vehicles in its fleet, and it wasn’t like she could expect any of them to come out in the flash flood that had wrecked her car.

As for friends … seven years had a way of making them disappear. And family was a definite no now that her cousin had moved out of the area.

Stuffing her phone back into her purse along with her keys, she stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind herself. She’d just have to make it back to town on foot.

What the hell did it matter, anyway ? She was already soaked, already had liquid squishing inside her shoes. What difference could more rain make ? Her car was stuck – that was the real problem. Teeth chattering, she walked as quickly as she could in the direction she’d come, kicking up a constant spray of dirty water as she went.

Swearing helped a little. Completely alone and surrounded by the noise of pounding rain and rumbling thunder, she cussed up a storm that would’ve put a sailor to shame. It gave her a channel for her anger and kept her lips from going numb as cold water ran over them, getting in her mouth.

Spitting out rainwater as she went, she made it all of a quarter of a mile before light cut through the premature twilight cast by storm clouds, harsh and yellow.

Headlights. Her heart leapt, torn between hope and alarm. Should she try to flag the vehicle down, to stop the driver before they reached the flooded section ? Maybe he or she would give her a ride back into town – she was desperate enough to ask. On the other hand, she didn’t want to be run over if the driver didn’t see her. Remembering how low visibility had been when she’d been driving, she stepped off the road, slogging through flooded underbrush at the edge of the woods.

The vehicle crept along at a snail’s pace, gradually coming into view. She walked as far from the side of the road as possible until she could make out more than just headlights. Then she froze.

It was a truck – a big black pick-up. She didn’t have to see the driver to know it was Donovan’s. Crossing her arms over her midsection and trying to retain some trace of body heat, she stood still as the truck stopped in the middle of the road.

« Clementine, » Donovan called, opening his door and settling his boots on rain-slicked pavement. « Are you hurt ? »

« I’m fine, » she called, hurrying toward his truck, embarrassingly grateful to have a perfectly rational reason to rush toward him.

He walked around the truck, re-soaking his still-damp t-shirt as he opened the passenger door for her. « I was afraid you might be stuck in a ditch somewhere. » He arched one dark brow as she settled into the cab. « You get stuck in a ditch somewhere ? »

« Yes. » Her cheeks heated a little, fighting the chill. « I hydroplaned into a ditch. Couldn’t get my car out. »

He shut the door and climbed into the driver’s side.