Snowbound (7 page)

Setting the spoon back in the bowl, she put
the tray on the nightstand. Anger spurred her from the bed. “I
don’t need to finish my dinner first. You’re welcome to your bed
right now.” Waving at it, she added, “I don’t even know why
you
put me in it to start with, Reed.”

His cheeks took on a ruddy hue, and he
couldn’t seem to meet her eyes. “Was closer is all.”

She scoffed and marched past him, trying not
to show she was a bit intimidated to be clad only in the satin
camisole and matching white panties. Her pants were MIA, and the
sweater had a hole in it. Since she was too angry to even consider
asking him to borrow a robe, or go get some of her clothes, she’d
just have to make do with her underwear and be grateful she wasn’t
bare-ass naked.

“You forgot your food.”

Beth was too annoyed to feel even a bit
hungry right then. With a rude gesture in his direction, she
stalked from his room, slamming the door behind her, and hurried to
the room she was using in his house. If she hadn’t been surrounded
by snow and darkness, she would have packed her bag and left right
then. He could go screw himself. That was as close as he was going
to get to any action while there were just the two of them in the
house.

She didn’t bother to change as she slid into
bed. Huddled under the thick covers in the guestroom, she stared at
the screen of her e-reader without actually absorbing any of the
words. The harsh sound of the wind gusting outside only deepened
her misery and left her feeling more alone than she’d ever been. A
peek out the window showed snow coming down so thickly that she
couldn’t make out anything but a blur. It seemed like a blizzard
out there.

Disappointment left a bitter taste in her
mouth. She’d really misjudged Reed, thinking there was a softer
side to him. The flashes of sweetness that occasionally shone
through his surly exterior had misled her. That, and her own
hormones, which still clamored for him—though she was so angry that
her mind wanted nothing to do with him.

She glared at the foul weather, guessing it
would keep her father and his film crew from arriving for at least
a couple more days. Beth planned to get on that plane when it
headed back to Endline, or whatever hole-in-the-wall it went to
next. If she had her way, the wheels would barely touch the landing
strip before she’d be on it, waiting for takeoff. The idea of
spending some time with her dad while he might be a semi-captive
audience was already a bust, and she sure wasn’t sticking around
when the opportunity to escape presented itself. It wasn’t as
though Blair Wyndam would notice her absence anyway. He’d barely
masked his impatience at having to deal with her unexpected
arrival.

A tear streaked down her cheek then, and she
swiped it away. By now, she should be used to his brusqueness and
lack of attention. Her mother had tried to gently dissuade her from
the “surprise,” but Beth had ignored her advice to wait for a
better time. There was never a better time with her father.

Maybe that’s why she was taking Reed’s
behavior so badly. It was just another rejection. God, did she have
Daddy Issues that she was trying to work out by getting attention
from an older man? The thought turned her stomach, and she quickly
shook her head, knowing that wasn’t true. Whatever drew her to
Reed—and it sure wasn’t his charming personality or sunny
disposition—had nothing to do with him being remotely
father-figure-like. She wanted him in a purely female fashion, the
way a woman wanted a lover, not a father. There was nothing muddled
about her feelings. It was lust, pure and simple.

How could it be anything else? Reed would
clearly never open up to her, and she was done extending overtures
toward him. She would move on, consign this interlude to a distant
place in her memory, and keep looking for a man who made her body
sing the same way he did. She squashed the voice at the back of her
head whispering that no other man had ever made her feel this way
before. Of course they hadn’t. She was only eighteen. There was
plenty of time to find someone who came close enough.

That thought was dissatisfying, and she tried
to clear it, and all the other thoughts, from her mind. Putting
aside the e-reader, she turned off the lamp and lay down. There was
still some light from the alarm clock on the nightstand, enough to
reassure her she wasn’t in total darkness, so she closed her eyes,
breathed deeply, and halfway mediated herself to a light sleep.

She awoke sometime later from a nightmare she
barely remembered. Instinctively, her eyes sought a source of
light, but found none. Beth fumbled for her phone or e-reader,
knowing either would give her some illumination, but couldn’t find
them in the dark. Her hand brushed against something on the
nightstand and sent it crashing to the floor.

Still somewhat caught up in her dream,
combined with the total darkness and the fierce sounds from
outside, she panicked. Beth thrashed around in search of her phone
or e-reader, irrationally fearing getting out of bed to try to feel
for whichever she had dropped on the floor. Her hand connected with
the lamp and sent it flying. It hit the wall with a crashing sound
that made her cry out with surprise.

Torn between the need for light and the need
to hide, she huddled back under the blankets and tried to calm her
racing heart. Cautiously, she extended a hand from the covers,
groping on the nightstand until she finally recognized the shape of
her phone. Clutching it like a lifeline, she swiped the screen just
as her door crashed open.

Beth screamed, pressing herself against the
headboard, while holding the phone out as though it would ward off
her attacker.

“It’s me,” said Reed, sounding gruff.

Her thundering pulse slowed, and she dragged
in a deep breath. A second later, she was vaguely aware of the bed
dipping as he sat down beside her, but she was still too caught up
in the aftereffects of fear to either welcome him or tell him to go
away. With bald honesty, she admitted she didn’t want him to leave.
The presence of anyone soothed her frazzled nerves, but she had to
acknowledge that having him beside her brought a greater measure of
comfort than anyone else she could think of at the moment.

His hand was gentle on her upper arm. “You
okay?”

Beth nodded, not sure if he could see the
motion in the dark room. His flashlight, added with her phone,
still provided only meager lighting. “Why’s it so dark?” The
pathetic tone made her cringe.

“The storm probably knocked out the main
power. The genny should kick on soon. It’s programmed to start if
primary power don’t come back within forty-five minutes.”

She trembled, imagining being without lights
for that long. “Why the wait?”

“Conserve fuel.”

Beth swallowed, her throat feeling arid. “So,
you just sit in the dark for all that time, waiting?”

“There’s candles and such.” He leaned closer,
and though his expression wasn’t visible, his tone sounded gentle.
“You don’t gotta be scared of the dark, Beth.”

She nodded again. “I know, but it’s a bit of
a phobia.” Biting her lip, knowing he probably didn’t care, she
found herself sharing anyway. “I played hide-and-seek with some
friends when I was about six. I sneaked up to the attic and found a
great hiding place in an old trunk.” She shivered, remembering the
fear of being in that small box that had let in only a tiny sliver
of light. “The problem was, the latch was broken, and it didn’t
open from the inside. I was trapped in there for a long time.”

He exhaled loudly. “How long?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Hours,
maybe a day. No one even realized I was missing until my mom came
home from a shopping trip.” Beth’s mouth curled. “Dad was home, but
he was too busy with something to notice. Probably my nanny.” He
took her hand in his, and she squeezed gratefully. “That’s just a
guess, but I know I had a new nanny two days later, so she was
either fired for incompetence or for being one of my dad’s affairs.
Or both.”

Beth took a couple of deep breaths before
loosening her hold on his hand. To her surprise, he didn’t release
her, even when she tried to tug away. “Anyway, I’m fine now. I woke
up from a bad dream to all this darkness, and it made me panic.
Needlessly.” Her voice wobbled just a bit when she asked, “I
wouldn’t say no to one of those candles, if it isn’t too much
bother, before you go back to bed?”

He let out a ragged sigh. “Of course it ain’t
too much trouble, Beth.” The bed shifted as he stretched across
her, his chest pressing against her shoulder, to reach into the
drawer of the nightstand. Holding up his flashlight, he showed her
the two candles and the lighter he’d retrieved from the drawer.
“But I ain’t leaving you like this. You’re clearly still
scared.”

Another shiver ran through her, as though to
prove his point. “I’m not scared, Reed. Just a little rattled
still.” She didn’t exactly encourage him to leave as he lit the
candles, providing more light, though shadows still dominated the
room. She shivered again when he returned to an upright position
beside her.

The fear had faded, and the realization that
he was in her room, with only a few layers of clothes and her
blankets separating them, hit her. Beth gulped quietly, torn
between anxiety, anticipation, and some of her lingering anger from
his earlier behavior.

A loud crash distracted her from all her
conflicting emotions, making her cry out and cling to him, just
like some dumb heroine in one of those old scary movies. Tears
rushed from her eyes, and she couldn’t completely identify why she
was crying. All she knew was the fear from being in darkness had
left her raw and exposed. Sniffing hard, she made an effort to rein
in her emotions, certain Reed had to be uncomfortable with the
display—though he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her
closer, instead of pushing her away or holding himself stiffly
aloof from her.

She swallowed and spoke as soon as she could.
“Sorry. I think the whole experience has left me freaked out. I’m
not the crying type.” Beth didn’t try to see his expression in the
gloom, not wanting to read skepticism in his gaze. She truly wasn’t
used to crying. With the exception of the traumatic experience of
being locked in the attic, the death of her favorite horse when she
was eleven, and the passing of her grandfather two years ago, she
couldn’t remember crying about much of anything.

“It’s okay, girl. Sometimes, you just need a
good cry.” He rubbed his palm over her back in a circular
motion.

She giggled, which sounded a bit wet, but
relieved most of her remaining tension. “Yeah, I’m sure you cry all
the time, Reed.”

A trace of amusement touched his words. “Hell
yeah. I get out the bonbons and pop in a
Lifetime
move at
least twice a month.”

She laughed harder. “You don’t have any
bonbons.”

“’Course not. I ate ‘em all.”

Before she could reply, the same crashing
sound jarred her again, and she jumped. “What is that?”

“Sounds like one of the shutters blew open. I
can go close it.”

“No.” She tightened her arms instinctively,
knowing if he left now, he wouldn’t be back. His version of common
sense would have a chance to take hold, and he’d talk himself into
staying away from her. “That’s okay,” she said more softly. “I
don’t want to be alone yet.”

“All right.”

Silence fell between them, but he didn’t move
farther away. His hand continued the same circuitous route across
her back, and she continued to cling to him. Beth realized he was
grasping her hip almost hard enough to hurt, but she made no move
to wiggle away. They were frozen in a single minute, and the wrong
move could end everything. The trouble was, she didn’t know what
the wrong move was. Or the right one. He’d rejected her overtures
too many times for her to feel secure enough to attempt to initiate
anything.

“I should go,” he whispered, though he didn’t
move.

“No,” she said again.

“You still scared, girl?”

“No,” she whispered, and she didn’t even
twitch when the shutter crashed against the house again.

“I am,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Beth stiffened, raising her head enough to
try to see his features in the gloom. “What? Why?”

“You’re dangerous.” He jerked his head in the
direction of the window. “Lot more dangerous than that storm out
there.”

Beth licked her lips, uncertain about the
right words, which was an unusual affliction for her. “I promise
not to kung fu you.”

“I wish you would.” His hand stopped moving
in circles and began applying pressure to her upper back, urging
her closer. “Knock some sense into me.”

Feeling a bit more confident, Beth tangled a
hand in his overlong hair. “I don’t want you to be sensible, Reed.
I just want to feel.”

“Feel what?” He sounded as uncertain as
her.

“This.” She put a hand over his heart,
finding it beating strong and steady against her palm. “You.
Everything.”

“You’re a virgin. You deserve better’n some
dirty old bastard for your first time, honey.”

Beth laughed softly, letting her hand slide
lower, to rest across his flat stomach. “You don’t feel old.” She
sniffed his chest, inhaling his heavenly masculine scent. “You
don’t smell dirty.” Leaning a bit closer, she rested her head on
his chest. “And I couldn’t care less if your parents were
married.”

He stiffened for a long second, and she
cursed herself for mentioning the obviously forbidden subject. Then
he relaxed and pulled her closer. “Guess I’m not a bastard in the
technical sense, in that case.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she whispered
against his neck.

“Too many to count,” he muttered. “Ah, hell,
math never was my strong point.”