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going to her own house just down the street. The thought was tempting.
    But then again, her dad may have had one of his episodes. If that was the case, he’d be sleeping in the living room recliner, and he was ashamed when company saw him that way. Not that she or her two sisters were company, but John Tilling was a proud man and not aging gracefully. Having him wake to find her there would be embarrassing.
    Besides, she wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened tonight.
    “No, I’d rather just go home,” Meghan said. “Take a hot bath and crawl into my pj’s. Plus Mr. Jingles will be hungry.”
    Deirdre laughed. “You treat that cat like a person.”
    “He’s good company when…” Meghan trailed off, not wanting to talk about her fiancé’s absences, especially with Deirdre.
    “Say it, Meg. Your cat’s good company when Peter’s out of town.” Deirdre scowled at her sister, the green lights of the dashboard making her features sharp. “And he’s out of town an awful lot lately, dear sister.”
    Meghan lifted her shoulder and stared out the side window. “Don’t go there, Dee. I’m not in the mood for another lecture.”
    “I’m just saying.”
    Deirdre pulled the truck into Meghan’s driveway.
    “I know what you’re saying, Dee. And it’s pissing me off.” Meghan flung the door open and jumped into the knee-high snow, grateful to get away from her sister’s disapproving stare. “Thanks for the ride.”
    Deirdre’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Meg, I’m sorry. Why don’t I come in and…”
    “No.” The word came out with more emphasis than Meghan intended. She inhaled calmly and continued. “ Dee, I’m fine. I appreciate the ride. Go home to Ayden and leave the plowing until the morning.” She slammed the door before her sister could respond. Meghan didn’t need to listen once again to Deirdre’s theory on how Peter had found another woman.

Chapter 4
    Meghan startled awake, her eyes immediately scanning the shadowed corners of her bedroom. For a moment, she lay frozen, unable to completely fill her lungs, the terror of her nightmare became a reality in the loneliness of her room. She wasn’t in the cooler. She was snug in her bed, still feeling the cold fingers of dread pressed to her throat. She hadn’t wanted to admit to Deirdre that the whole episode had shaken her to her core.
    The lamp next to her bed burned low, chasing the darkness from the space, but not easing the tension wrapped around her chest. Then it was there again—the tiny tic tic of ice pellets against her window, ratcheting her pulse up another notch. The wind howled and moaned, announcing the arrival of more inclement weather.
    The storm had burst through her unconsciousness, causing her to relive the nightmare of being frozen in the darkness. Raking fingers through her hair, she sat up and pulled the comforter up to her chin. She hadn’t been able to reach Peter, not on his cell phone nor at the hotel in Philly, where the desk clerk had said he’d checked out. Maybe he was at the airport searching for flights to bring him home to her arms.
    Oh, how she missed him. Cold winter nights were meant for sleeping safe in his arms, spooned against the wall of his chest, her bottom snuggled into his lap. But slumber was an elusive commodity when she woke in fear. She needed something to take her mind off her loneliness and despair. Her novel lay open on the bedside table, abandoned for the vibrator Peter had given her months ago when he’d begun traveling. The satisfying orgasm had been the only thing that had lulled her into sleep hours earlier. Perhaps it would work again.
    She lifted the toy, her body tightening at the thought of the pleasurable sensations it promised. Not as satisfying as Peter, but if you couldn’t have the real thing, this little gadget would certainly work in a pinch. Sighing, she set it down. She needed more than an orgasm to settle her nerves. Warm milk. Her sisters scoffed at her,