Snow Falls

chapter Thirteen



Jen stood at the window, watching the first snowflakes fall lazily to the deck. The storm had rolled in quickly, the dark clouds hiding the sun, bringing an abrupt end to the day. The stew was simmering and the aroma was filling up the cabin, making for a cozy evening. Ryan had taken the dogs out on a short hike before dark, leaving Jen alone with her increasingly unsettled thoughts.

She didn’t quite know what to make of it all. Her growing attachment to Ryan was one thing, but something else, just under the surface, was clamoring to be heard. She’d felt it for days, if not weeks, yet it wasn’t until the sled ride that she truly understood it. And if she’d had the energy to hike up the hill again, she’d have requested just one more ride, just to feel that thrill. Not the excitement of speeding on the snow, but the thrill of being cushioned in Ryan’s arms, held tight against her body.

She turned away from the window, her face flushed, embarrassed by her thoughts. She wasn’t comfortable around most people, and she wasn’t one for touching or being touched. She wasn’t a hugger. At first, she hadn’t grasped the concept of sledding. When Ryan had beckoned her to sit between her legs, she should have objected. Their personal space would be blurred. Turns out, not only was it blurred, it was totally erased. The pleasure she felt as those arms snaked around her waist was immense. And she wanted to try it, she wanted to be the one in the back, she wanted to know what it felt like to touch someone that way.

She smiled shyly. She had been so distracted by holding Ryan against her the way she had, she had completely forgotten about sledding and ended up toppling them over. Which was fun in itself.

Fun. Yes, the day had been fun. And full of surprises. And now a blizzard was approaching and they were safe and warm inside. Ryan had said they needed to conserve their power usage so they didn’t drain the batteries, but she did turn the TV on long enough to catch a weather forecast. The high mountains could get five feet or more of snow, certainly enough to cover their solar panels and bury the satellite dish.

She glanced at her laptop, fully charged. They still had Internet. She supposed she should catch up on her e-mail, but she ignored that task, as she had been doing lately. She e-mailed Cheryl at least once a week, just to let her know she was okay. She and Brad had exchanged only a few short notes. And Susan, her agent, she’d e-mailed twice. But yesterday when she’d checked her mail, she had ten or twelve that needed her attention and it was just too overwhelming. She’d closed her laptop and ignored them, including one from Brad she had yet to even read.

She heard a bark outside and knew they were back. She went into the kitchen to stir the stew, stirring her own thoughts as well.

“It’s started,” Ryan said unnecessarily, as the evidence littered her dark hair. “The wind’s picking up too.”

Jen’s gaze followed her to the stove where she held her hands out to warm them. There was only one small lamp on, making it appear even later than it was.

“Has the temperature dropped?” she asked. It had been almost spring-like during their sledding.

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, the front is definitely here.” She made a show of sniffing the air. “Smells great. I’m starving.”

“Must have been all that sledding you did,” she teased.

“Must have been.” Ryan joined her in the kitchen, lifting the lid and sniffing again. “Mmm. Can I help with something?” Ryan offered.

“No. It just needs to simmer another half hour or so.”

“Was that the last of the potatoes?”

“Afraid so.”

“So it’s on to rice then, I guess. When Reese comes to get you, I need to request a care package.”

Their eyes met briefly, then they both pulled away. Yes, she knew their time together was coming to an end. She’d known it when they’d been out playing. The snow was melting so fast. Yet there would be a reprieve, thanks to the blizzard. Jen turned away, shocked that she was actually thankful for the storm. No doubt Ryan was more than ready for the spring thaw.

“What do you think? Another couple of weeks?”

Ryan nodded. “If the temperature pops back up, I’d guess another week to ten days.”

Jen forced a smile to her face. “See? I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Yes, but I’m getting spoiled by your cooking. I’ll have to fend for myself again.”

Jen followed her movement as Ryan walked to the windows, looking out into the darkness. Jen wondered what she was thinking about. She saw her take a deep breath, then let it out heavily. As Ryan moved, Jen looked away, making a show of stirring the stew.

Conversation lagged as Ryan settled in her recliner with her laptop. The dogs were sprawled out on the floor beside her, creating a scene Jen would remember fondly, she was sure. She let her eyes travel over them, landing on Ryan, noting her disheveled hair, her nearly flawless skin, hands that were both soft and strong, fingers long and limber, the nails neatly trimmed. Jen’s gaze drifted back to her face, Ryan’s brows were drawn, her lips somewhat parted, moving ever so slightly as she read. She was disarmingly attractive, and Jen wondered again why she was alone. She wished Ryan trusted her enough to divulge more about her past. Jen had talked freely about her life, yet Ryan had revealed so little.

“What thoughts are running through that pretty head of yours?”

Jen blinked, realizing that she had been staring. She shook her head and smiled. “Private thoughts.” She took two bowls out, pausing to stir the stew one more time. “Ready to eat?”

“Yes. Let me help,” Ryan said, getting up from her recliner.

“I’ve got it. What would you like to drink?”

“I’ve got a few bottles of wine saved back,” Ryan said. “Not sure how well they will go with stew, though.”

“I wouldn’t know the difference,” she said. “I don’t know the first thing about wine.”

And she didn’t, she thought, as she took a sip. The red wine was a bit dry for her, but Ryan seemed pleased with it. Ryan also dug into the stew, which in turn, pleased her.

“Very good,” Ryan said after another bite. “I’ve never really tried to cook a stew before. When I want soup or something, I usually just open a can.”

“Thanks. My grandmother was big on soup and stew. We had one or the other at least once a week.”

“You’ll have to give me pointers before you leave then,” Ryan said. “My cooking experience has been trial and error. It’s not something I learned to do growing up.”

Jen ignored the reference to her leaving and instead used Ryan’s brief statement to ask a question she’d been curious about. “Where did you grow up?”

Ryan was quiet for the longest time, and Jen thought she wasn’t going to answer. But finally, with an almost apologetic smile, she said, “The Hamptons.”

Jen’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

Ryan shrugged. “Mostly.”

Which, of course, brought more questions to mind, but the look on Ryan’s face told her to keep them to herself. Which she did. The rest of the meal was eaten in near silence with only an occasional comment about the weather each time a gust of wind rattled the windows. It was a bit exciting to know that a major blizzard was happening outside yet they were comfy and warm inside, with no worries of being stranded. Well, no more than they already were.

Ryan helped her clean up the kitchen after dinner, but again, it was a mostly silent affair. She wondered at Ryan’s mood. Even for her, she was being extremely quiet this evening.

However, their routine didn’t waiver as they both took their respective seats with laptops in hand. Ryan immediately began tapping away, and Jen opened up her journal. Feeling a bit shy as she wrote down her thoughts from earlier, recounting their adventure on the sled, she nonetheless went into great detail. Knowing she would be leaving soon, she figured she would delve into it all again once she was back home...and alone.

At nine, Ryan closed up her laptop and stood, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied sigh. Jen found her gaze traveling up Ryan’s body. She turned away quickly when she found her eyes glued to Ryan’s breasts. She felt the temperature in the room rise twenty degrees, and she reached for her glass of water, downing it in one gulp.

“Gonna take the girls out one more time before bed,” Ryan said.

Jen nodded. Ryan was already putting on her coat and gloves, both dogs dancing around her excitedly. She left without another word, and Jen finally released her breath. She leaned back, wondering what was happening to her.

She stared out through the dark window for several minutes, her thoughts still a jumbled mess. With a sigh, she stood, placing her laptop next to Ryan’s on the small desk. She went through her nighttime routine by rote, pausing to meet her reflection in the mirror a time or two but refusing to dwell on her thoughts, refusing to explore why her gaze had been fixed on Ryan’s breasts.

A strong gust of wind shook the cabin, and she involuntarily wrapped her arms around herself. She glanced at the clock, noting that Ryan had been gone nearly thirty minutes. While that wouldn’t cause a concern on most nights, it seemed an abnormally long time for them to be out during a blizzard.

Another ten minutes had her pacing with worry, her glance shifting between the clock and the back door. Her fear and apprehension increased with each tick of the clock. She tried to quell the uneasiness that settled over her, but she was barely able to keep panic at bay.

What if something had happened to them? What if Ryan was hurt?

Her fear overrode her good sense as she hurried to the door, pulling her coat on quickly. As soon as she opened the door, swirling snow enveloped her, the wind taking her breath away as she walked into the cold, dark night.

“Ryan!” she yelled, but the roar of the storm carried the sound away immediately. “Ryan!”

She turned in a circle, getting her bearings. The hulk of the cabin was barely visible in the blowing snow. She looked on the ground, trying to find footprints, but the drifting snow made that impossible.

“Sierra! Kia!” Her panic now had a firm grip on her, and she nearly choked on her own voice. “Ryan!”

A fierce gust of wind made her stumble, and she caught herself before she fell. She squinted through the snow, looking in all directions, but she could no longer make out the cabin. Now alarmed, she took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t be more than twenty or thirty feet from the cabin. Logically, she should be able to find it.

“Logically,” she muttered. “One, two, three, four, five,” she counted as she walked, stopping at fifteen. Still no view of the cabin. She turned, retracing her steps, then started all over again, going in a different direction. Still nothing.

She glanced up, hoping for a break in the storm, hoping for a little light from the moon. All she saw was swirling, blinding snow. She finally gave in to her fear, the weight of it settling on her chest and nearly choking her. She walked blindly into the night, hands held out as she waded into the white abyss.