Summer Romance Box Set: 3 Bestselling Stand-Alone Romances: Weightless, Revelry, and On the Way to You

by Kandi Steiner

  I was kicking myself for that choice now.

  “Just a little farther, old girl,” I said, rubbing the steering wheel as my truck wheezed against the effort. I was the only vehicle on the road — the road which was now nearly impossible to see. I took a calming breath, gripping the wheel tight as I slowly maneuvered through.

  Another hindsight vision I had was that I should have asked Adrian to bring me the cushions when he finished them last week. I had been so busy at the shop and helping Wren with things around the cabin that I didn’t have the time to run into town. I told him I’d come this week, not even thinking of asking him to come out to us. Wren would have loved to have seen him.

  But, I also knew Adrian had his hands full. Ever since Wren sold the Revelry line and, subsequently, several more thereafter to Nordstrom, Adrian had come on as her full partner. He ran everything at the boutique, including taking on some of the design work, and Wren worked exclusively from our cabin. She only went into the city once a month, so for all intents and purposes, Adrian was running the show.

  He was busy. And so was I. But, he was doing the favor for me, and therefore, I went to him.

  In an hour, none of it would matter. The cushions would be safe and sound in the cradle I had made and I’d be holding Wren as we curled up on our couch in front of the fire for the evening. I’d driven these roads a thousand times, in all conditions, and as long as I stayed patient, I’d get home safely.

  Still, I was going to be later than I’d told Wren, and I knew if I didn’t call her, she’d panic.

  I reached for my phone in the cup holder with my eyes still firmly on the road. I knew this road well enough to know service was shitty, but sometimes, you could get a call to go through. So, I unlocked the phone with the press of my thumb, and I glanced at the screen only long enough to click her name. Her beautiful face filled my phone screen, and I smiled, waiting for the call to connect.

  But it never did.

  The steering wheel suddenly went slack, the control loosening, my tires losing grip on a patch of black ice. I held the wheel straight, working against the panic in my chest as I started to swerve. And then, even though I knew better, I did the worst possible thing.

  I hit the brakes.

  And that was the last thing I registered before the phone fell from my hands to the floorboard, and my truck fishtailed off the road.

  FRENETIC

  frih-NET-ik

  Adjective

  : marked by excitement, disorder, or anxiety-driven activity

  : frenzied, frantic

  The snow was still coming down outside as the last of the sun slipped away, and my husband wasn’t home.

  My stomach had been a mess since he’d left, and though I knew it was anxiety, I couldn’t do anything to soothe the pain or discomfort. It’d been so bad around lunch that I’d thought, briefly, that I was going into labor. The abdominal tightening I was feeling was intense, erratic at first, but then coming more and more steadily as the morning progressed. I ate some soup and drank part of a Sprite, but nothing seemed to help.

  I missed him. And I was worried about him driving in this weather.

  After lunch, I sat down at my desk and sketched. If my body was going to be a mess, I could at least do something to take my mind off Anderson. I figured that would help, throwing myself into work, into creating my next line instead of wondering about all the awful, possible reasons why he hadn’t called yet. The stomach pain hadn’t gotten better, and by the time the sun went down, I’d had it with the Braxton Hicks contractions.

  “This is ridiculous,” I groaned, gripping the edge of my desk with one hand and my pencil in the other as another fake contraction rolled through me. I completely understood now why some women would drive to the hospital when these mock contractions hit. It felt like the real deal, even though I knew it wasn’t. I still had two weeks to go.

  When my stomach settled a little, I let out a groan, shaking my head against the pain as I reached for my phone. I called Anderson again with no answer, sighing as I typed out my seventh unanswered text.

  I knew it was likely that he didn’t have service. He was probably on the last stretch back, and with the roads being covered in snow, he had to take it slow. The logical part of me knew he’d walk through that front door any minute, but the anxious part of me was fully in control of my brain.

  And my body.

  Another pain ripped through me as I lifted myself from my desk. I needed to get ready for dinner at Momma Von’s, but the weather made me just want to stay inside. Combined with my lack of appetite from the current state of my stomach, and I knew it was better to just call it off. But when I stood, before I could reach for my phone again to call Momma Von, all the blood rushed from my face down to the hardwood floor.

  The cushion on my work chair was wet.

  I was wet.

  “Oh, no,” I murmured, shaking my head in disbelief. It couldn’t be. We still had two weeks. The contractions I’d been feeling were fake, they were Braxton Hicks. They weren’t getting stronger, or closer together.

  Were they?

  I balanced my weight on the back of the desk chair as I thought over the day, the way the pain had started. Had it gotten worse once I sat down and started sketching? I’d been uncomfortable, and in pain, but I thought it was mostly the anxiety. I’d grunted through it all, focusing on my drawings to take my mind off the constant tightening in my cervix.

  I was still working through it all when another contraction ripped through me.

  I doubled over from the pain, letting out a scream that rivaled any I’d ever heard come from my mouth before. This one lasted longer than I remembered any of the others, and my heart picked up instantly, panic setting in.

  Oh, God.

  Black dots invaded my vision as I gripped my phone like a brick in my hand. I blindly dialed Anderson again, panicking and re-dialing over and over. I needed him here. We had a bag packed and a labor plan in place. We needed to get to the hospital.

  But he wasn’t here, and the snow still falling outside told me our labor plan was shot.

  After the eleventh failed call, I cursed, tears pricking my eyes as I dialed a different number, instead. Momma Von answered on the third ring.

  “I was just about to check on you,” she said cheerily. “Beau’s about to take the chicken out of the oven now.”

  “I’m in labor.”

  There was silence for one, long moment before Momma Von told me she’d be right over. And within five minutes, she was bursting through the front door of our cabin, calling out my name.

  “Back here!” I called. I still hadn’t sat back down, or even moved an inch from where I gripped the back of my office chair. Momma Von swung into the room, our eyes locked, and as if she cued it, another contraction ripped through me.

  I doubled over as she rushed to my side, helping balance my weight as I groaned through the pain. This one lasted longer, at least a minute, and when it passed, I was sweating, panting.

  Having a child.

  “Where is Anderson?”

  “He’s not back yet. And he won’t answer his phone.” My bottom lip trembled. “I’m worried about him. I thought I was just anxious, I thought the contractions were Braxton Hicks.”

  Momma Von’s face crumpled at the sight of me, and when her eyes fell to the damp cushion on my chair, she blinked. “When did your water break?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure. I’ve been sketching since lunch, trying to take my mind off Anderson and the pain of what I thought were fake contractions.”

  Momma Von didn’t respond, just helped me slowly over to our couch in the living room. She propped me up with pillows all around me and rested my feet on the ottoman…and she was quiet the entire time. Too quiet.

  “We have to go,” I said once she had me seated. “The bag is by the door. Can Beau drive us? We can tell Anderson to meet us at the hospital.”

  Momma Von swallowed then, lowering easily until she w
as on bent knees by my feet. “Wren, I don’t want to worry you, but if you’ve been having contractions all day and you don’t know when your water broke, I’m afraid we might be too late to even try to drive to the hospital. It’s dark, and the roads are terrible.” She took a breath. “Do you feel comfortable if I… can I…”

  She glanced between my legs, and without a second thought, I ripped down my leggings and spread them wide so she could tell me what the fuck was going on down there.

  She laughed. “Well, that was easy. No wonder you got knocked up.”

  “Hush,” I said, but my lips curled into a smile through the anxiety.

  Momma Von took one look between my legs, and everything about her paled. She gave me a look that asked if she could check my dilation, and I nodded.

  Without a word, she rose off the ground, making her way down the hall to our bedroom.

  “Where are you going?!” I called after her.

  “To get towels,” she called back, and a moment later, she was walking back toward me with a pile of the towels we’d received as a wedding gift balanced in her arms. “Call 9-1-1 and let them know you’re in labor, but that the roads are too bad for us to leave. And that you’re at least six centimeters dilated.”

  “Six?” I breathed, and my eyes darted back and forth between hers as I did the math, trying to remember everything from the baby books, from the doctor, from everything I’d prepared for. “But that… that means…”

  Momma Von nodded, plopping the towels down on the floor before she lowered herself next to me once more.

  “It means we’re having this baby here.”

  OCCLUSION

  uh-KLOO-zhun

  Noun

  : the complete obstruction of the breath passage in the articulation of a speech sound

  I knew I was being stupid.

  I should have stayed in my truck. I should have kept trying to call for help, should have waited until I spotted another car on the road. I couldn’t get the truck out of the snow I’d plowed into when it slid off the road, but I could sit in it with the heater on, sleep in it if I had to. I could have waited.

  But something had told me to get out and walk.

  I was only about fifteen miles from Gold Bar, if I had my bearings right. If I kept a steady pace, I could make it home in four hours. I was already two hours in.

  Halfway there.

  Of course, my actual plan wasn’t to walk the whole way — just until I saw someone on the road, until I could flag someone down to pick me up. The problem with my theory was that no one was on the road, not now that it was dark and the roads were covered and the snow was still falling. Everyone was inside and keeping warm, just like they should have been — like I should have been.

  But I couldn’t sit still.

  Something in my gut felt off, and I couldn’t fight against that urge that told me I needed to get home, to get to Wren. I was tied to her, bound in a way I could never explain even if I tried, and though I couldn’t reach her, I knew she was in trouble.

  Something was wrong.

  And for the first time in my life, I found myself using the survival knowledge I’d gained from my time traveling with Greg in my own life.

  With him, it had all been for show. We had a crew. We had an escape plan. If things really did get dire, we could get out, get somewhere safe. But right now? I was on my own.

  I tried to keep a manageable pace, reminding myself that if I exerted too much energy, I could risk a heart attack. It was freezing cold, and my lungs wouldn’t keep up if I pushed them too much. I’d also bundled up in every piece of clothing I had in the truck, in addition to my Carhartt jacket, thick beanie, work gloves, and work boots. I’d lined my feet with three pairs of my thickest socks, too, knowing they would be the first to go numb, to ache from walking in the thickening snow.

  I could make it home, but I knew I was putting myself in danger if I didn’t think intelligently.

  My concern for Wren pushed me to walk faster, but when I did, I’d sweat, and I knew that would put me at risk for hypothermia. It seemed everything was working against me, and through all the chaos, I had to find logic.

  It seemed impossible.

  But I had no other choice.

  It was Wren’s face I saw as I walked through the cold, dark night. I saw her eyes brimming with tears on our wedding day, her dusty pink lips spreading into a smile as I removed that veil and kissed her lips. I saw her long, wild blonde hair splayed out on our pillows in the early morning light, her face lax, breathing easy as she slept. I saw her dancing in the kitchen as she cooked, singing along to whatever 90’s album she was obsessed with that current week.

  In all the cold, in all the pain, in all the fear — I saw her.

  Maybe that’s why I questioned the first flicker of lights that reached me through the black night, the red and whites starting as a soft, eerie glow before they caught the snow and barked to life. They grew brighter and brighter until I turned, finding the source of them.

  An ambulance.

  A mixture of panic and hope ripped through me, and I stood in the middle of the road, arms flailing. I didn’t know the protocol. I didn’t know if they would stop for me, if they could stop for me when their lights were on, when they were clearly on their way to an emergency.

  But I knew I wouldn’t let them pass without telling me whether they could help me or not.

  The ambulance slowed the closer it got to me, its siren fading until it cut out altogether. It stopped about ten feet away from me, and the EMT in the passenger seat hopped out, jogging over to me with the snow falling in bright flecks in the stream of their headlights.

  “Sir, are you hurt?” he called over the sound of the wind.

  “I’m okay,” I responded, meeting him in the middle. He was young, maybe twenty-five, with long hair that peeked out from under his all-black beanie as he assessed me. “My truck hit some ice, went off the road and got stuck in the snow. I’m trying to get home.”

  “Christ,” he murmured. “It’s freezing out here. You should have stayed in your truck and called for help.”

  “I did, at first. But my cell isn’t getting service, and I…” I swallowed, unsure of how to explain it. “I need to get home.”

  He gave me a look that I knew if he put words to it would equate to are you crazy? And I didn’t say anything further, because we both knew the answer was yes.

  “Where are you heading?”

  “Gold Bar.”

  He shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re in luck. We’re responding to a call there now. Hop in, we’ll give you a ride to where we’re going and you can call someone from there.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed. “Seriously. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

  “We can’t just leave you out here to die, otherwise you’d be our next call,” he said on a smirk, jogging alongside me back to the ambulance.

  I slid in first, taking the seat between him and his partner. They told me their names — Todd and Jeff — and then the siren was back on, the lights reflecting off the bare trees as we made our way as fast as we could toward home.

  Jeff, the driver, checked in with dispatch once we were moving. I didn’t make much sense of the numbers and jargon he spewed, my body too focused on the mix of pain and pleasure that came from my limbs defrosting in the warmth of the ambulance. But when the dispatcher said something about an emergency home birth, my eyes shot wide, heart stopping in my chest.

  “What did she just say?” I asked.

  Todd lifted a brow, Jeff ignoring me as he responded to the woman on the other end of dispatch. “Emergency home birth. Happens sometimes, especially in cases like this, with the storm and all. We probably won’t make it in time for the birth, but we can help after, and get them safely to the hospital if they end up needing to go.”

  My throat tightened, the next breath not coming, and I croaked out another sentence despite not being able to breathe. “Is the address you
’re responding to 112 E. Alder Loop Road?”

  Todd checked the address they had plugged into their navigation system, and his brows shot even higher. “Yes, actually.”

  I covered my mouth, blood draining from where my fingertips touched my skin as my heart picked up speed under my rib cage. It was like I was still walking in the snow, panting and sweating, but this exertion wasn’t from physical activity.

  It was from the most paralyzing fear I’d ever experienced in my life.

  “We have to drive faster,” I croaked, shaking my head, eyes blurring as I tried to focus on the road through the snow falling in front of us. “We can’t miss that birth.”

  “It’s okay,” Todd assured me as Jeff hung up his end of the dispatch. “This happens more than you think. As long as there are no complications, they should be alright.”

  I turned, making sure I was looking that young man square in the eye before I spoke again. “That’s my wife who’s in labor. That’s my child about to be born without me there.”

  The color drained from his face the same way it had from mine, and he eyed Jeff over my shoulder before he met my gaze again.

  “You heard the man,” he said, nodding once to let me know he understood. “Drive faster.”

  “If I go any faster, we’re going to end up in the same position he was in,” Jeff argued.

  Todd eyed him hard over my shoulder, and Jeff made some sort of noise before the ambulance sped up a little more. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to soothe me. I blew out an anxious breath, tapping my foot on the floorboard with my eyes fixed on the road again.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Todd said from beside me, but his voice was muted, fading out along with the siren and everything else.