Every road the hired car tried to take was blocked off. The driver didn't seem to mind— he was paid by the mile, after all. With each jerk and shudder of the car moving too fast on the icy roads, Natalie saw her life flash before her eyes.

After a particularly jarring incident of almost sliding into a guard rail after the driver missed an exit, Carter dared to put his hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay? Anything I can do to help?" he asked, his voice low.

She narrowed her eyes at him as she jerked away. "I'm fine. I just wish we had someone who knew how to drive."

The driver glanced up in the rearview mirror to meet Natalie's glare. "I'm riskin' my life for you here, ya know." His accent was heavy with misplaced vowel sounds and drawn out consonants. A Boston native if she'd ever heard one.

Carter leaned forward over the center console. "And we are very grateful. I think she's just a little nervous, so please excuse her."

"I don't need you to speak for me," Natalie said under her breath, just loud enough for Carter to hear.

The last thing she wanted to do was admit to Carter that he was right, especially when nerves and fear weren't emotions she was generally comfortable with. If she was being honest, almost all emotions were not emotions she was comfortable with. Feelings were usually icky or cold and terrifying.

In all, it took almost two hours to drive the twenty miles to what looked to be the cheapest motel in the entire state. The building itself might as well have been plucked straight from the1970s. The wooden siding had been repaired and repainted multiple times, making the sides of the building look like a patchwork quilt. The rusted and peeling metal guard rails lining the top floor landing matched the disintegrating concrete of the parking lot that sent everyone in the car falling in multiple directions as they hit pothole after pothole before sliding to a halt outside of the motel's office.

Natalie gripped the car door's handle so tight, the whites of her knuckles showed. She glared at Carter as he sat there with what looked to be an amused smile on his face, just shrugging in response. She wasn't sure how this man could be so accepting of their current circumstances. Even if they survived the night, it would undoubtedly be with bedbug bites and who knew what else.

"Stay here, I'll check us in," Carter said.

A blast of frigid wind slapped Natalie in the face as Carter opened the door. Although she was glad she didn't have to venture out in the icy tundra to secure their room, she reminded herself that they would not be in this situation if it wasn't for Carter. She considered it his penance for his poor trip-planning decisions, and it served him right having to be the one to deal with the cold and ice because of it. Maybe next time he'd think about booking direct flights to the correct airport and preemptively checking the weather forecast.

The moment Carter closed the door, an uncomfortable silence settled between her and the driver she had recently insulted. She shifted around in her seat and stared out the window, searching for anything to pass the time to avoid a strained conversation with the driver. But all she could see outside was the dilapidated, old motel, cars covered in blankets of snow and ice, and the cavernous, broken pavement of the parking lot.

The driver's attention was focused solely on this phone, the reflection of his expression in the rearview mirror growing more and more frustrated by the second as he scrolled. His thick eyebrows knit together fiercely and a scowl deepened the lines of his face. "Seems the storm has knocked out service here. I can't get anything to load."

Natalie pulled out her own phone, which she realized had been eerily silent since they left the airport. Much to her dismay, the driver seemed to be correct. Normally alerts would be plastered across her home screen, but now only a picture of her hyperactive chihuahua, April, glared back at her. She'd almost forgotten she'd set it as her background; usually, there were so many notifications the dog's entire face was covered.

She tried to open her emails, but nothing would load. She attempted to check her Twitter account, but still nothing. Instagram was no better, stuck in a constant loading screen. She dialed Carter's number, appropriately labeled 'Coffee Guy,' but the phone beeped twice before showing a screen saying the call had failed.

She was already dealing with enough, stuck in some hellhole motel literally across the country from everything and everyone she knew. Which, when she really thought about it, wasn't an extensive list. She'd spent her college days at Stanford beating the curve and the remainder of her twenties getting ahead of the competition. None of which left much time for social interaction outside of April. So really, aside from missing her dog, being trapped during a snowstorm in Boston wasn't much lonelier than her daily life in L.A.

Another shock of cold air jarred her from her thoughts. Carter jumped into the car and shook the snow out of his shaggy, brown hair like a dog stuck in the storm. His teeth chattered as he frantically rubbed his hands together. "Okay," he said in labored breaths, "We're in room 224. Right over there."

He pointed at the second floor that was barricaded by a railing that looked as if it was one gentle nudge away from collapsing onto the ground below it. The numbers on the door were too far away for Natalie to make out, and she wasn't willing to trust Carter's sense of direction. "Are you sure?"

He rolled his eyes before adjusting in the seat to pull a map of the hotel from his jacket pocket. "Yeah, I'm sure. It's the one the girl in the lobby put a star on," he said as he pointed to the star drawn in hot pink ink over the room block labeled with the number 224.

Natalie peered at the map, the motel's blinking neon sign her only light source. "This says it's the honeymoon suite." She looked up at Carter, her throat starting to feel dry. "Are you sure she starred the right room? Check the keys, the receipt—"

"Natalie, I'm sure," Carter said firmly. "It was the only one they had left. Can you just trust me on this? For once?"

Her jaw dropped at his ridiculous request. He had to know that they were in their current predicament precisely because she'd made the mistake of trusting him.

Instead of acknowledging his request, she turned towards the window as she flicked her hand in his direction. "Go see if the key works."

Carter took a long slow breath, and in the reflection of the window, she watched as he angled his head from one side to the other as if stretching out a cramp in his neck before reaching for the door handle.

"Hold up, kid." The driver looked into the rearview mirror. "I'll drive closer to the stairwell so you don't have to walk as far. It's the least I can do." His eyes shifted to Natalie. "Don't underestimate the power of a Boston snowstorm, hun."

Natalie rolled her eyes, biting her tongue as they shifted out of park. The sooner she was out of the car the better, and her decision was solidified as they drove closer to the stairs. The car slid and bucked like an unbroken horse the entire way until the driver slammed on the brakes and they skidded to a halt five feet away from the stairway.

She watched from the back seat as Carter made his way outside and towards the trunk. The driver remained in his seat, hospitality apparently ended when it came to stepping outside himself. After what sounded like a brief struggle opening the hatch, Carter loaded their bags onto his shoulder and their suitcases into his hands before taking a tentative step up the slippery, icy stairs. He was almost at the second-story landing when she watched as his foot slipped out from underneath him. He reflexively grabbed onto the loose railing with both hands while sacrificing his grip on her laptop case. It landed with a sickening crack on the ground below so loud she could hear it from inside the car.

. Her stomach churned at the thought of the damage the precious piece of machinery just took and thanked herself for backing everything up before the trip. Still, she had to hold herself back from outwardly exclaiming her frustration that he'd, for the second time that day, dropped the ball. Losing her laptop, her last hope at still getting some work done despite everything, was really the cherry on top. The day was already one of the worst on record, and with everything going on, her emotions were running high.

It was an unwelcome and disturbing state for her to be in.

Movement outside brought her attention back to Carter as he held tight to the railing while he made his descent to retrieve the fallen laptop. She watched as he clutched it under his arm as if he was trying to protect it from the elements before climbing back up the stairs like he was scaling Mt. Everest. When he finally reached the top, Natalie found herself letting loose a deep breath as she breathlessly watched him.

Despite her prior concerns, the key, it seemed, did work. As the door opened into room 224, Carter spun around to face the car, throwing both hands over his head in a celebratory pose before nearly losing his balance again.

"Well, it's been wonderful," the driver said as he turned to face her. "Have a great trip." His words were dripping with sarcasm, and Natalie plastered on the fakest smile she could muster as she pushed open the door.

No sooner had she closed the door behind her than the car sped away as fast as its bald tires and the snow-covered pavement allowed. Casting the miserable driver one final scowl, she turned her attention to the icy task before her.

Her three-inch heels were made for Los Angeles sidewalks and the shiny laminate floors of her office building, not cracked concrete and ice. With each step, she prayed that it wouldn't be her last. The stairs were as treacherous as Carter's journey made them appear, which was made worse when she realized she was being watched.

While he could have gone into the warm room, Carter instead stood in the doorway watching her. That alone made her even more conscious of every slip and slide as she grappled up the railing with the gracefulness of a baby horse.

"Go inside," she yelled as one of her feet betrayed her by refusing to stay on the next step. "Go turn on the heat or do something equally useful."

Carter grinned and did neither of the things she asked, but instead set the bags down inside the motel room and walked back toward her. "Not a chance."

He foolishly descended the stairs, a stupid move by Natalie's calculations based on the trouble she was having getting up them in the first place. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. "Here, I'll help you up."

She wrenched her arm free and glared at him. "I've got this," she said, taking another failed step that resulted in her sliding yet again. "I'm sure this will come as a shock, but I'll have you know I used to ice skate at the mall when I was a kid."

"In heels?"

Carter was far too amused for Natalie's liking. He was always amused about something, and it was exasperating, especially when she was anything but amused trying to walk up the stairs. Couldn't the man just be angry at something for half a second? Was that too much to ask?

Her annoyance at Carter's actions, or lack thereof, fueled Natalie's fire and gave her the extra push she needed to get up the stairs by herself. It was her own little way of proving to Carter that she was more than capable of handling herself and didn't need anyone's help, especially his.

As soon as she was safely on the top landing, Carter's amusement turned into a laugh and he shook his head from side to side, flinging flakes of fallen snow from his dark hair in the process. "You're really something else, you know."

The words drawled out with a hint of a Southern accent and she wondered if she'd ever noticed it before. Of course not, she realized as she straightened up. Their interactions were limited to meeting schedules and coffee orders, and even then more of them were handled via email. And in none of those interactions had she thought to ask where he came from or how he ended up in her office in Los Angeles. If they ever returned back to the office, he'd be gone soon as soon as they returned anyway, and there would be no point in finding out anyway..

Sooner, she decided the moment she stepped into the room.

While warm, it was far from a typical honeymoon suite. It was as disgustingly broken down as the outside of the motel. Though what sort of honeymoon suite had two full-sized beds, she wasn't going to ask as she felt her muscles loosen a bit. Figuring out their sleeping arrangements had been the farthest from her mind, and there wasn't much room to be picky.

The momentary relaxation was brief as she recalled her fallen laptop and mentally cringed remembering the thud it made as it hit the cement outside. Carter was busy trying to thaw out his hands by the heater while Natalie placed her laptop on the closest bed and slowly unzipped the case.

To her utter dismay, it refused to turn on no matter how many times she pressed the power button. The outside of the laptop seemed intact but even with her limited technical knowledge, she knew that a fall like that could have destroyed an inside component.

She muttered a curse word under her breath that caught Carter's attention. He walked over, leaning around her to see what was going on.

"It's shot," she said as she futilely pressed the power button again. "Nothing."

"Want me to take a look at it?"

"Not unless you have a degree in computer science. I don't need you making it any worse than it already is."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Well, it was my minor. Does that count?"

She gaped at him, astounded by how much she did not know about this man. "Why are you working at a record company then?" He started to answer but she cut him off. "You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know."

He took a deep breath and wordlessly reached for the computer. This time she didn't try to stop him. She still had work to do, snowstorm or no snowstorm, internet or no internet. "How long do you think this will take? I have things to do."

"Seriously?" He blinked.

"Yes, seriously."

"What do you think you'll be able to get done in the middle of all this?" He waved a hand in the direction of the dingy curtain-covered window, as though indicating the snowstorm and all that it brought with it. That he had brought with it. "Take some time to chill out."

"Our artists don't make money from us 'chilling out,' Carter. They make money when we work hard."

"Fine," he said with a shrug as he grabbed his army green backpack covered in patches of bands even she, given her occupation, didn't recognize. "You can use my laptop then."