Snow Bound
Authors: Dani Wade
SNOW BOUND
BY
DANI WADE
Copyright 2012 Katherine Worsham
KINDLE EDITION
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Cover Art Design by Scott Carpenter
Editing by Ella Sheridan
Formatting by Hot Damn Designs
This book is dedicated with my abundant love and appreciation
to my twin sister. Your
encouragement and belief in me
has made all the difference in my life’s journey. I couldn’t
have done this without you.
The last thing Damon West wants is a trip to his bookish neighbor’s house in the midst of the worst snowstorm Cadence, TN, has seen in a decade. Still, his military instincts warn him that Miss Priss could use a little help. His arrival is met with an attack by an unknown assailant and the sight of Miss Priss in a sexy wisp of nothing-much, confidently wielding a double-barreled shotgun.
Tori Anderson carefully portrays herself as a responsible bookstore owner and capable young woman to anyone willing to look twice. But two men grappling in her backyard called for speed more than decorum. That’s how the guy she’d been secretly lusting after since he’d bought the house next door sees her in a silky robe and panties—with nothing in between. Damon’s sudden interest thrills her, but she can’t help worrying about the unknown threat scared off by her shotgun blast.
Trapped in her house, snow blocking the roads and no way to reach the outside world, Tori finally has the chance to indulge her wildest fantasies. But she isn’t sure which is more daunting—the abusive boyfriend back to punish her for helping convict him of murder or her desire to have more than one night with the town’s most unavailable bachelor.
.
With a sudden snap, t
he
room went dark.
The transition from soft
ly lit home office to the pitch-
black that can only occur living in t
he back of beyond
took a little adjustment
for Damon
, but before his eyes cleared of squiggles and
colored lights
,
he had his
oversized flashlight
palmed
and on
. Like his eyes, he let the rest of his body adjust to the new circumstances, which
he’d been anticipating since heavy
snow started coming down a couple of hours ago.
Now instead of the croon of Toby Keith, he was left with utter stillness and the sound of the wind rushing against the eaves outside. The kick of his heart
beat after the surprise had
automatically slowed, just as he’d done all the years he’d served his country in combat situations that required steady hands and complete focus.
Though a strong
snow
storm in the middle of February might not be a big deal for most parts of the country, the southern Tennessee
valley was looking at
complete and total shutdown for the next few da
ys if they received the
five
inches the weatherman had
been predicting since the day before. People here simply weren’t equipped or experienced with this kind of weather, which led to scary driving scenarios and a mad rush on t
he local Piggly Wiggly. Luckily
Damon had managed to grab enough beer and chips to get him through, despite the little white-haired lady that had stared
him down over the last bag of Nacho C
heese Doritos. Like a true Texas gentleman, he’d conceded and settled for Cool Ranch instead.
With a chuckle over the memory, he flicked
on the flashlight
a
nd made his way across the
landing to his bedroom. No more work tonight. Though he had a small generator for emergencies, he didn’t want to wa
ste any more gas than he had to
since there was no telling how long it would take the county to restore power this far from town. At
the best of times it could be
a day. If half the town was snowed
bound until roads could be cleared
, well, a week was the least
he could hope for.
He pulled out some heavier
socks and a pair of loose sweat
pants to add to his curre
nt cotton pajama pants and long-
sleeved
T-shirt
. No sense freezing. He already had the kerosene heater filled and waiting in the corner. This room was ideal to close up and heat for the night. Too bad he didn’t have something more feminine to keep him warm instead. A twinge of regret surfaced
. He could have swung by Rebel’s, the local honky-
tonk, and found a willing armful to pass the time
with, but he’d opted for winter-
weather preparations instead.
Damn shame.
His eyes beginning to adjust, he swi
tched off the flashlight and laid
it on the bed so he could dress. Yep, he was all set, if not working or watching television didn’t bore him out of his skull before too long. Good thing he had
the latest thriller on his bedside, not to mention
that software programming manual he needed to study for his computer repair and security business.
W
ith a lazy stride to
the window, he flicked the blinds apart just a touch and stared at the white sheeting outside. The snow came down in large, glob-like clusters, racing to the ground as if weighted. He stared for long moments, absently rubbing his p
alm in
a
circle
on his chest, trying to reconcile the sight
with the fluffy, feather
light snowflakes he’d seen ove
r the years. Yep, this
was gonna be a doozy
.
Squinting in an attempt to see clearer through the darkness and little white bombs, he studied the distance between his yard and his neighbor’s place. Unsure at first, his brain finally registered the sweep of light in the backyard, near the tree line of the woods that covered most of the property surrounding them. A flashlight beam probably, since the illumination was low to the ground, obviously portable, and concentrated in a straight line. Not a particularly powerful one, like his
Maglite
.
Now what was Miss Priss up to?
The light was pretty far away from the
farm
house she lived in—
by herself, the last he’d hear
d. Had she forgotten to store
wood on the back porch for the fireplace? Hell. Looked like he’d be making a trip over there in this god-awful weather. As much as he’d like her to learn a lesson by havin
g to deal with it herself, his m
ama would be sorely
pissed
if she were still alive.
Thoughts of his mother and Miss Priss together hit a bit too close to home. Both southern. Both sporting the innocent and vulnerable look. His sorrow over the pain his mother had endured throughout his childhood bloomed in his chest.
Luckily
his bastard of a father had died soon enough to give her a few years of peace before losing her battle with breast cancer.
Exchanging the sweat
pants for jea
ns and adding his work boots, Damon
headed downstairs to top off with his heavy coat. Miss Priss was one woman he’d avoided since the first time he’d met her. He co
uld spot the type a mile away—
manicured nails, s
kirt
s and sweater sets, never a
blond
e
hair out of place. She had the fragile bone structure of a Southern Belle and the perfect fa
c
ade of a
beaut
y queen. When one of the guys in town mentioned she’d been head of the cheerleading squad in high school,
Damon
hadn’t been a bit surprised. But a
ll that femininity usually went hand
in
hand with neediness. And he needed a helpless woman calling him at all hours like he neede
d another bullet wound i
n his body.
He much preferred the hardier, earthier stock that hung out at Benji’s on a Friday nigh
t. Sexy in a straight
forward—okay, blatant—
way and sturdy enough for him to ride all night. Not about to take crap from any man. No strings attached. Just the way he liked it.
Nope. Miss Priss was not his type.
It didn’t matter that those eyes were bluer than blue and that mouth was made to wrap around his— He shook his head. Nope. Not for him.
He might muss her hair if he got too raunchy with her, he thought with a grin, only to have it snatched away a
s he stepped out the back door.
The sting of freezing air and wet snowflakes, in contrast to the warmth of the house, took his breath. He didn’t bother with the flashlight. The land between
the houses
rolled gently
but was clear of trees and brush. With a coating of snow already
crunching under his feet
and white clouds of it surrounding him, what little light there was reflected exponentially. He’d spent enough time on covert ops to make his way without wasting battery life, so his strides were smooth and purposed, eating up the distance despite the less than ideal weather conditions.
The bitter cold
had him breathing heavier by the time he breached the yard area
,
and he noted a soft glow that was probably candlelight in the upper window on this side. Miss Priss’s bedroom? That thought
prompted a spark of heat he firmly squashed, since this was one woman whose bedroom he would never let himself visit.
Pausing near the edge of the
covered
porch, he surveyed the darkness, trying to separate the swirl of the snowflakes on the air with human movement. Not
detecting anything, he moved fa
rther across the
crackling
surface
away from the house
, this time focusing on the ground in search of footprints that might have survived the rapid downfall. The muscles along the back of his neck tensed, sensing something wasn’t right in the empty space, when just minutes before he’d seen a
flashlight
. With a last glance
he turned toward the house, deciding he’d check in and see if Miss Priss had somehow managed to hightail it back inside since he’d stood at his bedroom window.