Page 7 of A Snowy Escape

Her hand is frozen, and I fight the urge to ask her to come inside the gym while we talk. I’m already pushing my luck by having her this close.

I have sisters.

I remember all the times my mom beat it into their heads to never allow themselves to be taken to a secondary location.

The logic behind it is sound, if not fucked up that it’s necessary to teach women that lesson.

I’m not sure if the building twenty feet away counts as a secondary location, but I’m not trying to frighten the poor woman off. If I do that, she might chance it on the unsafe roads.

My nostrils flare, picking up something sweet and fruity. Raspberry with hints of lemon zest.

Damn.

Abby is an omega.

There’s no doubt in my mind about that.

She smells delicious, but there’s something even more intense that my nose is having trouble picking up on.

What the hell is that?

It’s shocking and stormy.

Almost electric.

That doesn’t make any sense, but it’s true.

Is it that she’s a scent match?

Nah. I’ve met two of those before, and I could immediately tell what was happening.

She’s a super scent match.

Jesus.

What a way to start the morning.

How the hell did she end up out here, sleeping in my parking lot? We don’t run into many omegas up here, and when they do pop up, they’re almost always bonded and surrounded by their packs.

Omegas are meant to be coveted and protected.

Did she run from a bad situation?

Is she just one of those omegas who doesn’t want to conform with society’s expectations of her designation?

If so, more power to her, but she should be careful. While things aren’t as bad for unbonded omegas as they used to be, life is more dangerous for them than it is for alphas or betas.

“This is Echo,” Abby says, gesturing to the German shepherd.

I picked that up when she spoke to the beast earlier, but pointing it out might scare her.

Omegas are skittish.

I’m now even more on edge about not startling her.

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, bringing my phone up to show her the radar. “We’re here.” I point. “Right in this valley between the mountains. The main problem is, the roads that will bring you back to the interstate are here and here.” More pointing. “It’s going to send you right toward the storm. The overpasses and bridges freeze first. Are you from around here? Am I mansplaining?”

Abby shakes her head, making her long brown hair fall around her face. “I’m from Georgia. I moved up here at the beginning of summer, but I started in Rochester. How the hell did I get all the way up here?”