Jenna snagged her ski jacket from the back of the kitchen chair just as Dani and Allie burst into the room. They were laughing and giggling and racing each other up the stairs. “Can we have nachos?” Allie called over her shoulder, but didn’t wait for a response.
A second later, Travis slid through the open door. “You can tell that they’re all broken up about not going to school tomorrow.”
Jenna grinned. “I used to love it, too.”
“You had snow days in L.A.?”
“No.” She shook her head and laughed. “I grew up just outside of Seattle. I remember getting together with my girlfriends and sending up group prayers for snow.”
“Did it work?”
“Rarely, and never when a major assignment that I’d forgotten was due.” She heard the rumble of a truck’s engine and saw Seth Whitaker’s rig backing up.
“Did I chase away your company?”
“Nah,” she said, but wondered if she were lying. The passenger side of the big rig was visible, and Harrison Brennan was sitting stiffly inside while staring straight ahead. Or was he? He was too far away to tell, but she thought she caught him watching the house from the side-view mirror. Stop it! You’re imagining things! He’s just a nice neighbor trying to help out.
“Something wrong?” Travis asked, and Jenna was suddenly aware that he was standing near the table and staring at her.
“No…sorry…I guess I’ve been caught up in my problems.”
“Something I can help you with?” He seemed earnest, his blue eyes tinged with worry.
“Sure. How about conjuring up hot sand, aquamarine surf, lots of palm trees…and oh, yeah, don’t forget it should be ninety degrees in the shade.”
“Can I throw in a couple of margaritas?” he asked.
“Only if they’re blended and doubles.”
“Man, your fantasies are pretty damned specific.”
“Why dream if you don’t know what you want?” she tossed back and felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.
“Do you? Know what you want?”
“Mmm.” She nodded. “Most of the time. You?”
“I thought I did…a long time ago.” He lifted a shoulder. “Now I’m not so sure.” He seemed about to say more, but thought better of it, his smile fading and the warmth in his eyes suddenly chased by something cold and secret. “I’d better shove off,” he said. “Dani told me I shouldn’t overstay my welcome. Something about ‘letting her have her space.’ Call me if she’s a problem.”
“She won’t be.”
“Or if you feel stranded out here.” He looked out the window to the rolling acres edged in old-growth timber. “You’re a little isolated.”
“We’ll be fine,” she assured him, though his last words gave her pause. She’d chosen this place precisely for its remote location, but now, watching him walk to his rig, the snow slanting from the sky, the wind blowing wildly down the gorge, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. As he climbed into the cab she resisted the urge to run outside, flag him down, and beg him to stay, to admit that she wasn’t as strong as she appeared, that she liked the thought of another adult, a man, around when the forces of nature were so raw and threatening.
But she didn’t.
Wouldn’t admit that she couldn’t handle things on her own.
She felt a chill and rubbed her arms as he drove down the lane, his tires spinning in the rapidly piling snow, his headlights cutting across the white expanse of drifts.
The phone rang and she reached for the receiver.
“Hello?” she said, but no one answered. “Hello?” She heard the crackle of static, as if there were a bad cell connection, and something muted, something soft and melodic, like a song she should remember. “Hello? If you’re there I can’t hear you,” she said strongly. “Call back.”
She hung up and waited.
But no call came through.