“La-roo would be miserable,” she said. Even if Ian didn’t answer, at least her voice made some noise.
“Who?”
“My friend Larissa. She hates cold weather. Put her in a storm like this and she’d never stop complaining.”
“Lucky me I’m not with Larissa then. I prefer your attitude.”
He was giving her points for not complaining, nothing more. Still, Chloe warmed from the inside out. “How are you doing?” She hadn’t forgotten the real reason for their trip: to see his son. All these setbacks delayed their reunion .
“Me? I’m dandy. Nothing I like better than crawling along a country road behind the slowest drivers in America.”
“Really? I’d never guess,” she said, biting back a smile. “If you like we can switch places. I’ll drive and you can be the passenger.”
“You’re kidding.”
The look on his face was priceless. Half horror, half utter disbelief. Chloe let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m completely fine with you fighting the roads. I’ll just curl up here and enjoy the scenery.”
“Such as it is.”
She smiled again. Petulance and impatience worked to make his voice rougher. “Are you kidding? Have you looked outside?” She pointed to where the same tree branch continued waging war on the same roadside sign. “Where else would you see an advertisement for a place called the Bluebird Inn and—” Ian had flung his arm across her chest again, cutting off the rest. “What...?”
“Another rear end collision. Four cars up. We’re stuck while the drivers check out the damage.”
“Oh.” She’d take his word for it. At the moment, all she could think about was the forearm pressed against the underside of her breasts, and whether or not Ian could feel her heart racing. “What do you want to do?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t move his arm, either. Too deep in thought to notice, probably. Taking a slow breath, Chloe gently lowered his hand to her lap. The new position wasn’t much better—she’d stupidly let his fist rest between her knees but it beat being wrapped in a faux embrace. “Ian?”
Finally, he shook his head. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What isn’t? The trip?” He wasn’t turning back, was he? After they’d come this far?
Rather than answer, he pulled to the right and began inching his way along the side of the road. Ice crunched beneath his tires as they moved up and over frozen mounds of dirt. “Sign back there says there’s a restaurant two miles from here.”
The Bluebird Inn and Restaurant, the sign she’d been reading before they stopped. “You want to go to lunch?” Whatever plan she expected, stopping at a cozy country inn didn’t come close. “What happened to the no side trip rule?”
“That was before we got stuck in the highway death march. I figure we’ll grab something to eat, and if we’re lucky, by the time we’re finished, the traffic will have eased up.”
“And if it hasn’t?”
“Then hopefully the inn has internet service so we can look up an alternate route.” He flashed a broad grin. “See, I can roll with the punches as well as the next guy.”
No quick answer came to mind. Chloe was too busy recovering from his smile.
The Bluebird Inn and Restaurant turned out to be a large stone farmhouse atop a hill. It took Ian two tries before their rental car made it up the wooded drive to the parking lot. “Guess we’re not the only ones with the idea,” he said, pulling next to an oversize pickup truck. Sure enough, there were several other cars in the lot. A few, like the truck, were covered in ice, indicating they’d been parked for a while. But the others looked like more recent arrivals.
“Ready to brave the storm?” he asked.
“I thought that’s what we’d been doing?” Chloe replied, reaching for her ankle boots. The insides were warm from being near the heating vent, causing the rest of her body to shiver in comparison. “These shoes might have been a mistake, though.” The stylish heels were made for city walking, not ice storms. “Do you promise to catch me?”
“Why, you planning to fall?”
“I’ll try not...” What was that about falling? In the gray of the rental car, Ian’s eyes shimmered like icicles on a sunny day, the pale blue bright and beautiful. Far warmer than their color implied. Chloe found herself thrust back to the other night, as the familiar warmth wrapped tightly around her, the closeness sending her pulse into overdrive. She felt light-headed and grounded at the same time.
Ian’s eyes searched her face. Looking for what, she didn’t know. Whatever it was, the inspection caused his pupils to grow big and black. A girl could fall into such eyes.
Falling. Right. She blinked herself back to reality. “We—we should probably get moving,” she stammered. “Waiting won’t make the storm go away.”
“No. No it won’t.” Must have been the left over brain fog making Ian’s voice sound rougher than normal as he backed up to the driver’s side door.
Snatching her scarf, she tied the square into a makeshift head cover. “I’m ready. And don’t worry, I’ll do my best to keep my feet on the ground.”
A sign on the building said the structure was over one hundred years old. In better weather, Chloe would have been more appreciative of the building’s old-world charm. Things like the bright blue storm shutters and matching farmhouse door. As it was, she was too busy trying to keep her promise to Ian. An icy crust covered everything. Only the fact that the parking lot was loose gravel saved her from wiping out completely. Chloe managed to keep her balance by jamming her heel through the crust into the stones beneath. Her shoes would be ruined, but at least she wouldn’t land on her bottom.
They were halfway to the door when Ian’s arm wrapped around her. “You look like you’re going to topple over any second,” he said, his breath warming her dampened skin. Chloe fought the urge to curl up close and wind her arms around him in return. Funny, but if she’d been with Aiden or someone else, she wouldn’t have thought twice about holding tight.
The front door was painted a vibrant blue. A pair of potted pines decked with white lights stood sentry on either side. Thanks to the overhang, they were the only three items not covered in ice. Ian opened the door and guided her inside.
It was like stepping into another time and country. With its exposed beams and stenciled walls, the room reminded Chloe of an alpine cottage, or what an alpine cottage might look like in her fantasies. The high-back chairs near the window were made for drinking hot cocoa and sketching the world outside, and the aroma...spiced pumpkins and pine. Who knew a room could smell perfect?
A fire crackled merrily in the nearby fireplace. Drawn by the warmth, Chloe walked over and held out her hands. Ian joined her, his leather-clad shoulder brushing hers. “This place is amazing,” she whispered, unable to keep the enthusiasm from her voice if she wanted to.
“Certainly beats fast food,” Ian replied.
“Tell me about it, although part of me feels like I should head out to the barn to milk the cows or something.”
“Well, you do kind of look the part.” He fingered the edge of her scarf, which she still had tied like a kerchief.
Chloe ducked her head, afraid to look him in the eye for fear she’d get light-headed again. As it was, his touch was having way more effect than it should. Every brush of his hand, every moment of contact brought with it a wash of sensations. Comfort, attraction, closeness, wariness...so many feelings she was beginning to have trouble naming them.
“I thought I heard the door.”
They turned around to find a man standing at the top of the stairwell. “I am Josef Hendrik. Welcome to the Bluebird Inn.”
If the lobby was her old-world fantasy, thought Chloe, then Josef was her fantasy grandfather. Portly and gray-haired with a cherry-colored nose, he wore a beige cardigan sweater that barely buttoned across his torso. He leaned on the banister as he worked his way down to the landing, all the while speaking in a faintly accented voice. “I am afraid, thanks to the storm, both of our king-size rooms have been taken, but we still have a couple nice queen rooms available, one with a view of the field....”
“Actually,” Ian said, “we’re only here to eat. The sign on the corner said you served lunch.”
“Only Sunday through Friday.” Josef, who was in the process of sliding his round frame behind the front desk, paused. “I am afraid the dining room is not open to the public until five on Saturdays. You have several hours to wait.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Ian replied. “You sure you can’t make an exception? We’d really hate to have to go back outside in this weather.”
“I am sorry, son,” the man replied. Chloe found the idea of anyone calling Ian son rather amusing. “I wish I could, but thanks to this storm, we are understaffed. It is only my wife tonight, and she has her hands full getting dinner ready for our overnight guests.”
“Did the overnight guests get lunch?”
“Of course. The kitchen is always open for them.”