Saving Kylie - Taryn Quinn

One

His nuts were going to freeze. Considering how long it had been since he’d required their services, the possibility was damn well worth going for a ride on the coldest night of the year.

Justin Norton slipped on his goggles and grinned at the snowy landscape. Even in the moonlit dark, the white blinded him, sparkling on the evergreens, glistening on the low-hanging branches he shoved out of his way. This trail was bumpier than some, but the exhilaration of flying through the night—silent but for the buzz-saw whir of his snowmobile—was worth every risk. Especially tonight.

He’d had a shitty day, complete with tears from his mother, cranky students, and a pisser of a headache that still throbbed at the base of his skull. But in a minute, none of that would matter anymore. He zipped his jacket and tugged on his thin lambskin leather gloves, anticipation already humming in his blood. Now it was all about snow and speed and wind. Out here, no one intruded.

Being alone had never felt so damn good.

He rolled his shoulders and started the engine. As he gripped the handlebars, he breathed deep. Fine shards of ice coated his throat, and he exhaled puffs of frosty air in front of his face. Both soothed him immeasurably. This was what he’d waited for all fucking day long. He didn’t have to watch the clock here, didn’t have to wonder what reaction he’d get from his mother the next time he phoned home.

Would she be happy to hear from him? Indifferent? Or would today finally be the day she didn’t answer the phone at all?

Shaking off the worry, he glanced up the trail. The dark swallowed it whole like a hungry mouth. Then he kicked the snowmobile into gear and roared into the deep woods.

Snow flew back into his face as he pressed the snowmobile into the first looping turn, but that was part of the thrill. Wind-whipped cheeks, chapped lips, stinging eyes—he craved the burn that came with doing battle with the elements and never knowing who might win. There was a symmetry to the chase. A rightness he’d never felt anywhere else.

He pushed for more speed as the trail opened up, his gaze alternating between the ice-encrusted, snowy ground and the pink-hued horizon. Nothing was quite as breathtaking as the winter sky in this neck of the woods. When the stars came out to twinkle amid the cotton-candy clouds, the rest of the world faded away.

It was just past five, and already dusk was imminent. Judging from the streaked sky, so was a hell of a lot more snow.

For once the forecasters weren’t blowing smoke out their asses. Late November in Turnbull, New York, usually didn’t yield this much accumulation, but he’d gotten lucky this year. Good thing, because he hadn’t gotten lucky in any other, more vital ways for months now.

And his frozen balls were feeling the strain.

His fingers tingled as he tightened his grip and whipped around a curve too fast. His skis shimmied on the ice before he backed off on the torque and adjusted his stance. Figured. Thoughts about his pathetic sex life were a sure path to ending up on his ass in a snowbank.

He squinted into the darkness. The light flurries had increased at a steady clip, and now he couldn’t see the gloves in front of his face. He’d yet to see another snowmobiler on the trail, so obviously people were taking the severe weather predictions seriously.

Smart money told him to turn back and head home. Thanks to the teachers who took pity on him every holiday, he had a basket with a loaf of crusty bread, a couple of kinds of fancy cheese, and a nice, chilled rosé waiting.

Somehow getting drunk on wine two nights before Thanksgiving—a holiday he’d long ago become accustomed to spending sans turkey and relatives—didn’t seem quite as lame as loading up on a twelve-pack of beer.

Right.

Shaking off the sudden tension in his shoulders, he decelerated and swung around slowly to keep from losing traction. He skidded again on a patch of ice, hard enough he nearly did a header over the handlebars.

Fuck.

Obviously he’d waited too damn long. He rode out the spin, and finally the machine shuddered to a stop.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Clearly tonight wasn’t the night for a nocturnal ride.

Just as he was about to turn around to head home to his cabin, he felt the vibration of his phone against his chest. How he felt it over the