Three Swedish Mountain Men by Lily Gold EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Authors: Lily Gold
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Action & Adventure
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
DAISY
I swear to God, the moose appears out of thin air.
One second, I’m minding my own business, driving up a winding road
through a frosty, glittery pine forest. It’s my first day in Lapland, and I
arrived at my Airbnb a few hours before my check-in time, so I decided to
explore the area. It’s a beautiful afternoon; the roads are clear and empty,
the mountains are towering around me, and the snow is falling in big flakes,
fluttering peacefully down from the sky.
And then I turn a corner, and come face to face with a fucking enormous
moose.
It’s huge, twice as tall as my car, with long, branching antlers that look
sharp enough to spear me. Its body is blocking the whole road. There’s no
way around it, so I smack my horn to scare it out of the way.
Which is a bad move.
As the noise of my horn blares out into the forest, the moose jumps, spins
almost a full circle, and charges right at my car.
Swearing, I yank the steering wheel to the side and slam into reverse,
sending the car spinning off the road and into the copse of trees. For a
second, everything feels out of control as my tyres skid across the snow. I
squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact—
And then a shockwave rocks through me. I hear the sound of breaking
glass, and feel freezing air against my skin as my back windows shatter
inwards. My seatbelt locks and cuts into me as I’m slammed forward.
Before I can go flying through the windshield, the airbag explodes in my
face, shoving my head back. My skull cracks against my seat. Pain rips up
the back of my neck, and I scream as the car spins to a stop, creaking and
groaning.
For a few seconds, I sit there, panting. Adrenaline is rushing through me in
waves. My hands are still clenched on the steering wheel, my knuckles
bleached white. Everything is eerily quiet. I can hear trees rustling outside,
and the tiny pittering of thick snowflakes falling and melting against my
windshield.
I try to move, but I’m pinned in place by the airbag. It hisses, deflating
slowly in front of my face.
Closing my eyes, I take stock. I don’t feel wet anywhere, so I don’t think
I’m bleeding, and nothing hurts enough to be broken. My neck burns as I
try to turn my head, but hopefully, that’s just muscle strain. I exhale slowly,
feeling tears prick at the back of my eyes.
Not to be dramatic, but this has definitely been the worst week of my life.
Just seven days ago, I was in a high school art classroom, happily teaching
seventeen-year-olds about charcoal smudging techniques.
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