Snowbound (2 page)

A quick glance at the gold watch on her wrist
revealed it was five until six, so she slipped out of the room and
down the hall. Pausing at the door, she took one more deep breath
for courage before opening it to enter the common area.

She let her gaze dance around the interior,
finding it was more paneled wood, rustic timber supports, and some
type of white stone accents. There was a large fur on the floor
near the fireplace, and she frowned at it. She knew Reed ran a
guide business, and that included taking clients out to hunt, but
she didn’t approve. Thankfully, her daddy wasn’t one of those idiot
outdoorsmen, preferring to do his shooting with a camera instead of
a gun. He was here to make a documentary on the wildlife of the Far
North.

The small great room led right into the
kitchen, which held a dining table big enough for eight. She paused
to admire the raw log legs before running a hand over the smooth
wood. “This is pretty. Where’d you get it?”

He looked up from the stove for the first
time since she entered the room, though she was positive he’d seen
her the moment she opened the door from the guest quarters.

“I made it myself. Pretty much have to if you
want something out here.”

So, he had skilled hands. That thought made
her tingle between the thighs, and she pressed them together
discreetly. “Can I help with anything?”

He looked surprised by the offer, along with
more than a tad disbelieving. “Nah, I got it. Just some stew and
cornbread.”

She nodded, taking a seat beside the chair at
the head of the table, which she correctly assumed would be his. He
didn’t seem to like her proximity, and she had a moment of doubt.
Could she really get this man to see her as a woman, not just an
inconvenient adolescent?

He set a big bowl of stew down, along with a
basket of cornbread. She was a little surprised to find he’d
wrapped the bread in a red-checked cloth. He was so male, so raw
and rough, that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d served the
stew in the pot and the cornbread still in the pan.

She helped herself to some of both and
spooned up a bite of the stew. “Wow, this is good. What brand is
it?”

He blinked. “Brand?”

Beth arched a brow. “You know, like what
company put it in the can?”

Reed made a scoffing sound. “Ain’t no can,
girl. I made it. Like I said, you want something in this
environment, you gotta know how to make it.” He gave her an
unreadable look. “Lot of folks like comin’ here for trips and such,
but they ain’t got what you need to survive out here.”

She bristled at the implication she wasn’t
tough or able to make do. Just because she never had didn’t mean
she couldn’t. Still, arguing with him seemed counterproductive to
trying to seduce him, so she bit her tongue. Her seduction plans
were looking less likely with every passing minute though. Her dad
and the film crew would be joining them tomorrow, and she doubted
there’d be any opportunities after that.

“Well, it’s delicious. What’s in it?”

If he found the question as stupid as it was,
he was nice enough not to be too obvious. “Potatoes, carrots,
onions, garlic, gravy, and caribou.”

She frowned, putting down her spoon.
“Caribou?”

He nodded. “You got a problem with that? You
seemed to be enjoyin’ it a moment ago.”

Beth grimaced. “I don’t approve of hunting
when there’s food in the grocery store.”

Reed laughed, and it was more than a bit
mocking. “Where’d you think that food comes from, girl? The cow
fairy?”

She frowned. “I’m not a girl, and I know
where it comes from. Those animals are raised in captivity. They
wouldn’t know how to survive if you set them free, unlike the
wildlife.”

He snorted. “So you’re doing a favor by
killing them?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Have you ever seen a
concentrated animal feeding operation, Beth?” When she shook her
head, he said, “I have. I worked one summer at a pig company. It
was brutal. Those animals are mistreated from the moment they’re
born until they’re finally put outta their misery—and half the
time, that’s done half-assed too, so they suffer ‘til the very
end.” He took a big bite of his stew, as though for emphasis. “I’d
rather know the animal I’m eating lived the life it was supposed to
and was killed humanely. I don’t let them suffer.”

She hated to concede, but he had a point, and
a way of making her look at it that she hadn’t considered before.
“Okay, but what about the sport hunters you guide?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Some of them take the
meat, and some don’t, but I don’t let none of it go to waste. If
the hunters only want their trophies, they take whatever token they
think is important, and I keep the rest. Sometimes I eat it, and
sometimes it goes to folks that need it more. I usually end up
dropping off a couple hundred pounds of meat in Endline for the
town folks when I go twice a year to replenish supplies.”

“Oh.” She didn’t look up at him again as she
took another tentative bite of the meat. “What about if you have a
hunter who just injures the animal?”

He sighed. “That’s happened a few times.
Usually, it’s some pansy-assed stockbroker, or somethin’, who
couldn’t keep up with me for miles, so I end up tracking the animal
and finishing it off. If it’s not too bad, I try to save it and let
it go back to its life. And I never accept those incompetent
assholes as clients again.”

“Oh,” she said again, nodding. “That’s very
decent of you.”

He rolled his eyes, as though she had
insulted him instead of complimented him. “Thanks, girl.”

“I’m not a girl,” she said again, more
firmly.

With an ambiguous look, he turned his
attention back to his bowl. “I know that,” he mumbled, saying
nothing else throughout the meal.

Of course she wasn’t a girl. Stripped of that
parka and wearing those tight jeans—were they called skinny
jeans?—and a snug sweater in that same sort of some material as her
hat, there was no mistaking her for a girl. She had nicely rounded
breasts, long legs for her frame that seemed built to wrap around a
man’s waist, and curvy hips that could take the pressure of a man’s
hands holding them while he pounded into her.

Fuck, she was definitely not a girl. He
stirred the fire with the poker as he listened to her sing softly
while she put away the dishes she had insisted on washing. He’d
half-expected to have to redo them himself, but after watching her
for a couple of minutes, he’d realized she could handle the task.
It might be the first time she’d ever done them, but washing dishes
wasn’t exactly brain surgery.

Not that he’d count her out of that
profession, or any other. She was obviously well educated and came
from money. Smart and sassy, only a fool would underestimate her
prospects.

Only a goddamn fool would be imagining what
it might be like to taste the honeyed skin of her neck, or cup her
ass in his hands, knowing the kind of man he was. He’d left most of
his past behind when he’d come to Alaska eight years ago, but he
was smart enough to know a woman like that was out of his league.
Never mind the fifteen years separating them. His past and her
future would never mesh, so fantasizing about touching that
luscious woman was plain foolishness.

When her daddy and crew arrived tomorrow,
he’d have to be damned sure he hid any hint of attraction he felt.
The Wyndam group was paying enough for him to be able to take a
season off and have some personal space again. After a few months
of people, he always got fed up and had to have a breather. He
couldn’t risk alienating such clients, and hitting on the teenage
daughter, even if she was technically legal, was a surefire way to
do so.

What was wrong with him anyway, that he was
feeling lustful for a teenager? Dammit, he should have stopped by
the whorehouse the last time he was in Endline. In a region where
men were far more common than women, it was about the only sure
thing a man could find in these parts. Most women were already
partnered up with someone, and since he wasn’t the partnering-up
type, whores were a viable option. The last couple of trips though,
he’d passed on by the nondescript house on the edge of the city,
finding the idea of meaningless sex that he paid for was no more
satisfying or appealing than his own hand.

Now, he wished he’d dipped his dick in all
six of the whores working there, with the appropriate raingear, of
course. Apparently, his body was feeling the itch for feminine
companionship, and if he’d scratched it three months ago, he
wouldn’t be stifling back a groan at the sight of that sweetly
rounded ass in those tight jeans as she bent over to put the
stewpot into the drawer under the oven.

She joined him all too quickly, and he was
equal parts disappointed and relieved when she sat down on the same
couch as him, instead of heading on to her room. At least she left
a cushion between them. Damn, didn’t the girl have any common
sense? She was alone with a man she didn’t know, and he could take
advantage of her without her consent, if he was a different sort.
Hell, didn’t her daddy have any common sense? Who sent their
teenage daughter to a strange man’s home alone? Without thought, he
voiced his opinion. “What kind of stupid is your father that he
just lets you travel alone and sends you wherever without a proper
escort?”

She cocked her head, looking both amused and
angry. “He didn’t let me travel anywhere. I’m an adult, and I
booked my ticket. I’d planned to stay in Fairbanks and just meet up
with him for a few days in Edgeline.”

“Endline,” he interrupted.

She waved a hand. “Yeah, whatever. Except I
didn’t realize the distance, or the difficulty with traveling. I
thought I’d surprise him, but it ended up being an inconvenience.”
Beth shrugged. “Same as always, I guess.”

“Still, his solution was to send his little
girl on ahead to stay alone with a strange man?” He shook his head.
“Ain’t no way in hell my daughter would do such a foolish thing. I
could be all kinds of pervert, girl.”

She did grin then. “Really? What kinds are
you?”

That wasn’t the response he’d expected, and
he was disconcerted to have his cheeks warming. “That’s not the
point. I’m just surprised by how lax y’all are with safety.”

Beth’s lips twitched. “I guess Daddy figured
you’d be a professional, since you have a bazillion good references
from previous guests.” She shrugged. “Or maybe he didn’t think at
all. I’m not high on his list of priorities.”

His frown deepened. “Then he needs to reorder
his priorities.” At her careless shrug, his irritation softened,
and he warred with the urge to pick up her hand and offer comfort.
Only the knowledge that innocent comfort could lead to carnal
actions kept his hand firmly on his own leg. “What about you? Don’t
you have more regard for your safety?”

“I can take care of myself.”

She spoke with such conviction that he
couldn’t help scoffing, though it probably insulted her. “Look,
girl—”

“Beth,” she put in.

“Beth,” he repeated with gritted teeth. “You
couldn’t take on a wet kitten and win.”

She cocked a brow. “Challenge accepted.”

“Huh?” He frowned. “I don’t actually have a
wet kitten, you know,” he said drily after a moment.

Beth’s obstinate expression hardened further.
“Get up.”

“What?”

She got to her feet, moving lightly. “Come
on. Get off your ass and come at me, Mr. All Kinds of Perv.”

Feeling amused, and a tad indulgent, he stood
up. He wasn’t going to hurt her none, but a little lesson wouldn’t
be a bad idea. Ms. Wyndam needed to know she wasn’t as tough as she
thought, before she was actually in a situation that led her to act
with foolish overconfidence. “All right, little girl. I’m gonna
school you.”

She didn’t reply, just poising on the balls
of her feet as she waited for him to make a move. Something about
her stance annoyed him, and he found himself taking it more
seriously than he’d intended. His first plan had been a direct
assault, but he found himself drawing on the training he’d learned
in the Army. He came at her to the right, before switching to the
left at the last minute.

He’d expected to end up with her struggling
in his arms, so the knee she rammed into his stomach was a shock.
Reed let out a harsh breath and dropped to his knees from a
combination of pain and surprise. In two seconds, that little
hellcat kicked his shoulder, sending him reeling backward. She
landed on his chest with enough force to make him exhale loudly,
and her fingers hesitated within millimeters of his eyes. “Now,
this is the point where I’d blind you, or rip your balls off…” She
patted his thigh just an inch below his package. “If you were
really trying to hurt me.”

With a sunny smile, she bounded off him,
offering him a hand up that he disdained. She shrugged and returned
to the couch. “Poor loser.”

He wasn’t seriously injured, aside from his
pride, and he was on his feet quickly, glaring down at her as he
rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder. “How’d you learn all
that?”

She smiled breezily. “I was into those
martial arts movies for a while, so my mom got me private lessons.
I know a couple of formal types of martial arts, but my instructor
also taught me some dirty tricks.”

“I’ll say.” He was reluctantly impressed as
he sat down in his former spot.

“So,
kitten
,” she asked sweetly, “Do
you think I can take care of myself?”

“I sure hope so. After that kung fu shit, I’m
relying on you to take care of me too, if bad guys come.”

“No bad guys here,” she said with a grin.

With more seriousness than he’d intended, he
said, “Don’t be too sure, Beth.”

She regarded him for a moment, as though
peering deep into his soul. “No bad guys here,” she said again, and
then lightened the mood by patting his thigh. “But I’ll protect you
if they show up.”