soon? I mean, for other than the holidays?" he asked, adjusting me in his arms.
"Not with the rate I'm going," I muttered, keeping my face averted from his.
He started to answer until we both heard a vehicle approaching in the distance. Grant gently stood me up and we waved our arms to get the driver's attention.
Chapter 7
A pickup truck much like June had suggested we needed slowed to a stop on the side of the road. "You folks need some help?" the driver asked after opening his door.
"Yes, sir," Grant answered, walking toward him.
The large burly bear of a man stepped from the truck. He stood easily at six and a half feet tall. Grant was tall, and even he looked miniature next to this stranger. The nickname "Refrigerator" would have suited him well. Dressed in a flannel shirt that was rolled up to reveal massive forearms, he looked like a lumberjack, or in my mind, a serial killer.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked under my breath. "He might be some crazy mountain-man killer."
"Nah, he has to be cool. He has a Pittsburg Steelers flag in his back window."
"Even more reason not to trust him. Everyone knows the only people you can trust are Bills fans."
"You know football?" Grant asked.
"Um, hello? I was born in Woodfalls," I joked. Football and Woodfalls came as a package. With not a whole lot else to get excited about in a town the size of Woodfalls, football was practically a religion. To say you didn't like football was pretty much sacrilegious, and were considered fighting words. Fridays were spent traveling to high school games since our school didn't have a home field. Saturdays we watched college ball, and Sundays, of course were all about the Buffalo Bills. Even after almost five years away from Woodfalls, football was still in my blood.
"I'm Tim," the stranger introduced himself. "My wife, June, thought you folks might need a hand. She said you had it in your heads to drive some Barbie car in this storm," Tim said, opening the passenger door so Grant could set me down on the seat. My misgivings were put to rest. Of course June sent him out to check on us.
"Barbie car. Ha, that's not far off," Grant laughed, sliding in beside me. I sighed with pleasure at the warm air coming from the vents.
"How long you folks been walking?"
"Just over an hour. I think our car is about three miles up. We slid off the road. Then poor Jamie here stepped in a hole. I'm not sure if she broke her ankle or just sprained it, but we had to leave the bag I was carrying. I'd sure appreciate it if you would let me collect it."
"Not a problem at all. We'll also check on your car."
"That would be wonderful," I said. It would be great to have a change of clothing. I pulled my gloves off so I could hold my hands in front of the vents. I had been so preoccupied in Grant's arms I didn't realize how cold I was.
It took Tim less than two minutes to spot our bag on the side of the road where we had left it. Grant jumped from the vehicle to retrieve it. He brushed off the snow and handed it me to hold on my lap with my purse. When he climbed back into the truck, he was careful not to bump my ankle, which had started throbbing now that it was no longer elevated over his arm.
"Our car should be pretty close from here," Grant said, closing his door hard.
"How's your ankle feel, missy," Tim asked, shifting the truck from first to second gear.
"I'm not sure to tell you the truth, but I know it hurts," I admitted, grimacing.
"I'll bet. Don't worry. Doc Jones will get you fixed up."
Grant and I both burst out laughing. Tim shot us a look like we'd lost our minds.
"Sorry," I said between giggles. "We have a Doc Jones in the town we grew up in. We were just saying how much Whisper Hollow reminds us of home."
"I'll be darned. Small town, huh? Nothing wrong with that," Tim said like we had just declared we were all members of the same secret society. "Would you look at that. She was right. I think my grandkids have remote
"Not with the rate I'm going," I muttered, keeping my face averted from his.
He started to answer until we both heard a vehicle approaching in the distance. Grant gently stood me up and we waved our arms to get the driver's attention.
Chapter 7
A pickup truck much like June had suggested we needed slowed to a stop on the side of the road. "You folks need some help?" the driver asked after opening his door.
"Yes, sir," Grant answered, walking toward him.
The large burly bear of a man stepped from the truck. He stood easily at six and a half feet tall. Grant was tall, and even he looked miniature next to this stranger. The nickname "Refrigerator" would have suited him well. Dressed in a flannel shirt that was rolled up to reveal massive forearms, he looked like a lumberjack, or in my mind, a serial killer.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I asked under my breath. "He might be some crazy mountain-man killer."
"Nah, he has to be cool. He has a Pittsburg Steelers flag in his back window."
"Even more reason not to trust him. Everyone knows the only people you can trust are Bills fans."
"You know football?" Grant asked.
"Um, hello? I was born in Woodfalls," I joked. Football and Woodfalls came as a package. With not a whole lot else to get excited about in a town the size of Woodfalls, football was practically a religion. To say you didn't like football was pretty much sacrilegious, and were considered fighting words. Fridays were spent traveling to high school games since our school didn't have a home field. Saturdays we watched college ball, and Sundays, of course were all about the Buffalo Bills. Even after almost five years away from Woodfalls, football was still in my blood.
"I'm Tim," the stranger introduced himself. "My wife, June, thought you folks might need a hand. She said you had it in your heads to drive some Barbie car in this storm," Tim said, opening the passenger door so Grant could set me down on the seat. My misgivings were put to rest. Of course June sent him out to check on us.
"Barbie car. Ha, that's not far off," Grant laughed, sliding in beside me. I sighed with pleasure at the warm air coming from the vents.
"How long you folks been walking?"
"Just over an hour. I think our car is about three miles up. We slid off the road. Then poor Jamie here stepped in a hole. I'm not sure if she broke her ankle or just sprained it, but we had to leave the bag I was carrying. I'd sure appreciate it if you would let me collect it."
"Not a problem at all. We'll also check on your car."
"That would be wonderful," I said. It would be great to have a change of clothing. I pulled my gloves off so I could hold my hands in front of the vents. I had been so preoccupied in Grant's arms I didn't realize how cold I was.
It took Tim less than two minutes to spot our bag on the side of the road where we had left it. Grant jumped from the vehicle to retrieve it. He brushed off the snow and handed it me to hold on my lap with my purse. When he climbed back into the truck, he was careful not to bump my ankle, which had started throbbing now that it was no longer elevated over his arm.
"Our car should be pretty close from here," Grant said, closing his door hard.
"How's your ankle feel, missy," Tim asked, shifting the truck from first to second gear.
"I'm not sure to tell you the truth, but I know it hurts," I admitted, grimacing.
"I'll bet. Don't worry. Doc Jones will get you fixed up."
Grant and I both burst out laughing. Tim shot us a look like we'd lost our minds.
"Sorry," I said between giggles. "We have a Doc Jones in the town we grew up in. We were just saying how much Whisper Hollow reminds us of home."
"I'll be darned. Small town, huh? Nothing wrong with that," Tim said like we had just declared we were all members of the same secret society. "Would you look at that. She was right. I think my grandkids have remote
Similar Books
