Craig hadn't even planned to stop.
He was just trying to get back on the main road, maybe grab something warm. A greasy burger from the roadside diner he'd Googled twenty minutes ago. The kind with milkshakes served in tin cups and fries that came in paper-lined baskets.
Maybe even figure out when to ask Merlina out again. Privately. You know, when she wasn't surrounded by a bunch of watchful relatives and freezing weather that felt straight out of a disaster movie.
The roadblock changed all that.
He eased his car to a slow stop behind a line of stranded cars, snow crunching under the tires. He tugged on his gloves and got out, heading toward the cop who still looked mildly amused by the whole mess.
Craig pulled out his translator app and asked in butchered Spanish what was going on. The officer replied with something like, "Blocked pass, plows delayed, sit tight."
