The wind howled like a wounded beast, dragging sheets of snow across the desolate country road. Amelia Reynolds tightened her grip on the steering wheel, squinting through the windshield. Her luxury sedan groaned as it skidded slightly on the icy surface before sputtering, then down. The dashboard flickered, silence. No, no, not now, she muttered, tapping the wheel in frustration. Her phone had no signal. The storm was worsening by the second.
She opened the car door and was met with a blast of wind, so cold it stole her breath. Pulling her coat tight around her, Amelia stepped out into the blizzard. Her black boots sank deep into the snow.
She had been driving to a fundraising summit three hours outside the city, but her GPS had rerouted her through this rural back road. Now she was lost, alone, freezing. A faint glow caught her eye across the field.
A house, maybe. A barn? She could not tell. It was her only hope.
Stumbling forward, snow clinging to her lashes and soaking through her coat, she made her way toward the light. By the time she reached the front porch of the farmhouse, her hands were stiff, her lips numb. She pounded on the door, hoping, praying.
The door creaked open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man in a flannel shirt and jeans. His face was weathered, but striking, with a jawline that hadn’t softened from years of manual labor. He didn’t smile.
I, I’m sorry, Amelia stammered, her voice barely audible through chattering teeth. My car broke down. I’m lost.
I need somewhere warm to stay. The man blinked slowly, his blue eyes cautious. I don’t usually get visitors, especially not during a blizzard.
Please, she whispered, shivering. If you don’t help me, I will freeze to death. There was a long pause before he opened the door wider.
Get in. Amelia stepped inside, her body instantly grateful for the warmth. The farmhouse was simple.
Wooden floors, a stone fireplace, a worn leather armchair, but it radiated comfort. She inhaled the scent of pine and smoke. Take off that coat, he said.
You’re soaked. She hesitated, but did as instructed, revealing a silk blouse, now damp and clinging to her skin. He handed her a thick wool blanket from the couch and gestured toward the fire.
Sit. Warm up. Amelia collapsed into the chair, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself.
Her eyes met his as he knelt to toss another log into the flames. I’m Amelia, she said, her voice trembling. Thomas, he replied curtly.
Thank you, Thomas. I… I didn’t know where else to go. He studied her for a beat.
What were you doing out here? I was driving to a charity conference, she explained, in Pine Hollow. My GPS took me this way. I didn’t think… It’s not safe during storms like this.
These roads shut down fast. I figured that out too late, she said with a small, helpless laugh. Thomas returned with a mug of something hot, tea or cider, she wasn’t sure.
She took it gratefully, cupping it between her hands. You live here alone, she asked, glancing around. Yeah.
She nodded. It’s quiet. That’s how I like it.
The fire crackled between them, filling the silence. I didn’t mean to barge in, she said, her voice softening. I just didn’t want to die in a snowbank.
His eyes flicked to hers. For the first time, there was a glimmer of something else. Not suspicion.
Not caution. Something warmer. No one should be left out there alone, he said.
She exhaled slowly, letting herself relax just a little. Later, Thomas brought her dry clothes, an old sweatshirt and flannel pants. Too big, but warm.
She changed in the bathroom, her designer clothes abandoned in a heap. When she returned, he had prepared a modest meal, soup and toasted bread. She ate in silence, grateful.
I’ll set up the guest room, he said. You’ll be safe here tonight. Amelia looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time.
There was something in his posture, something guarded, heavy, like a man who had carried too much for too long. Thank you, she said again, quieter this time. He nodded and left the room.
Alone now, Amelia sat by the fire, staring into the flames. Everything felt surreal. Just hours ago, she had been a powerful CEO, heading to another event, another polished speech.
Now, she was a stranded stranger, wrapped in a stranger’s blanket, sitting in the quiet heart of nowhere. And yet, she felt oddly at peace. In the hallway, Thomas paused, watching her silhouette from a distance.
She looked completely out of place, too refined, too polished for this world of wood and ash. But somehow, it suited her. Or maybe, it was the stillness in her eyes that mirrored his own.
Outside, the solitude, ambition, and stillness collided quietly, without fanfare, and something had begun. Neither of them knew it yet, but the storm outside was nothing compared to the one that would soon stir inside their hearts. The next morning, the wind had eased, but the world remained blanketed in snow.