6 PENELOPE“Maybe if I drive slow, it won’t be so bad.” I drag my gaze away from the disaster unfurling outside and give Wolfie a sideways glance, which he meets with one of his famous scowls.
“I can’t let you drive in this,” he mutters, gesturing toward the window. “You wouldn’t make it back to Chicago. Hell, you wouldn’t make it out of the driveway.”
When I left Chicago, a few gentle flurries were coming down, sure, but hardly anything to worry about. The snowflakes melted as quickly as they hit the pavement, nothing that gave me cause for concern on the drive. But now, the view from the window is nothing but white. It looks like a freaking blizzard out there.
“Maybe I can wait it out. It can’t snow forever, right?” I pat my pockets to locate my phone and pull up the radar. But one loo
