Snowbound Snuggles

by T. F. Walsh

  Sam sidestepped just in time to avoid having his toes crushed by an overzealous Wynter wielding the vacuum. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. Was it worth this effort? Would stepping into a spotless home make the couple see their daughter’s situation in a different light? Unlikely. But it was something she had to do. And he understood this.

  “I’ll finish up in here. Why don’t you see what we need for groceries? I’ll make a quick run before I pick up your folks at the airport,” he said, the second she flipped off the vacuum.

  “They’re renting a car. I got a text this morning. They want to be able to come and go on their own.”

  “Okay.” He drew the word out.

  “They’re expecting to bring back a car seat, stroller, and a bunch of other baby supplies.” Wynter snorted. “Too bad they are spending a fortune on a huge rental for nothing.” She yanked the plug from the wall and coiled it around her arm before dragging the vacuum from the room, her spine rigid.

  She was still angry with him. And she was tense. Okay, she was beyond tense. He’d love to give her parents the benefit of the doubt, assume they had changed over the years. But watching Wynter prepare for their arrival was really putting a damper on any hope he might have had.

  Wynter’s brother, Grant, had been a college senior when he and his girlfriend found out they were expecting. He had been planning to go to law school, continue his education. But real life has a way of stepping in and rearranging carefully laid plans. Grant and his girlfriend were thrilled about the baby. But his parents? Not so much.

  They’d swooped in, as they were wont to do, issuing orders and telling the parents-to-be exactly what they expected of them. The pregnancy was to be terminated. Grant was to stop seeing his girlfriend, as she was obviously a loose floozy with no morals. She would never be the upstanding woman he needed to support his career and be a model wife. He would continue his schooling and keep up his grades, graduating at the top of his class and earning a spot in one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. They had big plans for their eldest child.

  When Grant refused to give in to his parents’ demands, they turned to his girlfriend. They offered her money to pay for the abortion and to help set her up, preferably in a different state. Needless to say, she wasn’t cooperative. And that’s when the Allens resorted to threats.

  Apparently, they claimed to have dug up dirt on Grant’s poor girlfriend. They threatened to call her out as an unfit mother and take custody of their grandchild. No one really knew if any of their accusations were true, or if they would have been able to gain custody of the child. But Grant and his pregnant girlfriend ran off together.

  Sam’s frown carved deep creases around his mouth as he remembered how this all went down. Wynter was a junior in high school, at the time. She was getting excellent grades, was beloved by her teachers, her gymnastics coach, everyone who knew her. But when Grant disappeared, Burt and Gloria turned to the only children they had left, and punished them instead.

  Wynter and her other brother, Corbin, were pulled from all extracurricular activities. They were to go to school and come straight home. Gloria was a stay-at-home mom who was more than happy to shepherd her children back and forth—the better to know where they were at all times.

  That was when Sam first started sneaking into her room. The frown slid off his face. Nothing like a little martial law to make good kids want to break the rules. Well, it wasn’t like Wynter turned into a rebel wild-child. She just wanted to spend time with her friends. So she had shown Sam how to climb the twisted oak in the backyard to reach her bedroom. Thank God her parents had never figured this out. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find bars on the windows, had they known about his little visits.

  In a funny way, he supposed he owed a debt of gratitude to her parents. If it weren’t for the ridiculous restrictions they put their children under, Sam and Wynter probably wouldn’t have had so much one-on-one time together. She might have gone off shopping and doing whatever it was teenage girls did. Instead, she had asked him to visit. And the two idealistic teens had spent long hours talking about their hopes and dreams.

  Shaking the old memories from his head, Sam grabbed his cleaning supplies and left the office. Wynter wasn’t downstairs so the baby must have woken up. She’d be in the nursery. He didn’t like to interrupt this important bonding time, but her blinding panic was starting to become infectious. He hurried up the stairs, visions of Wynter locked in a bedroom in a fancy Florida condo giving him extra speed.

  “We need a plan,” he blurted out the moment he reached the doorway to the nursery.

  “Ya think?” She arched a copper brow and threw him an exasperated glare. Yep, she’s still angry.

  “They aren’t taking you away. And they aren’t taking Charlotte. We just need to give them a reason to think that this is the best place for the two of you right now.”

  “No place is better than theirs. You’d have to be . . . I don’t know.” She sighed, sad and defeated.

  “Rich? Would that do it?” Excitement raced through his veins as Sam realized they may have a way to overcome this sticky situation.

  “You want to lie about your income? That’s foolish, Sam.”

  “I don’t want to lie. I want to exploit it.” He dropped to his knees in front of the rocker.

  “I don’t understand.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes squinting.

  “Yeah, I live out here in the boonies. My house is modest. But I could just as easily own a mansion.” He sat down on the carpet, ducking his head to avoid looking as though he were bragging.

  “So . . . I’m kinda loaded.” He chanced a look at Wynter, whose expression was more than a little skeptical. “It’s true. The gaming industry is huge. People pay big bucks for high-end software development.

  When I balked at the idea of going to work at their company in Palo Alto, they made me an offer.”

  “An offer you couldn’t refuse?” Again with the pointy brow.

  “I guess you could say that.” His cheeks warmed as he realized that was exactly what it was. “They told me I could work from home. They doubled the offer if I’d just promise to come in once or twice a year to touch base. It’s a sweet deal.” He shrugged.

  “Okay, so you’re rich. They aren’t greedy. That’s not what they’re after. I’m still a single mom. They would probably be more inclined to help you get rid of the burden. I’m only here because you are a kind and very generous friend,” she reminded him.

  Sam pulled up his knees and dropped his chin to one, tapping his leg with restless fingers. She was right. Her parents would probably find that embarrassing. Their daughter was accepting handouts. He chewed on his upper lip, thinking.

  “I’ve got it! They want nothing but the best for you, right? They wanted Grant to have a successful career. If he’d already been a top-notch lawyer when he found out he was going to be a dad, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”

  Wynter shrugged, nodding.

  “What if we convince them that we’re in a committed relationship? It’s probably too soon to announce an engagement, because of Holt.” He winced, hoping like hell that he wasn’t crossing the line.

  “But if they think we’re in love, with marriage in the foreseeable future? You would be involved with a successful game developer. Your future would be ensured.” He cast a cautious glance at his friend.

  “You’d do that for me?” She looked terribly embarrassed.

  “I’d do anything for you, you know that.” Sam rested a palm on her knee, the awareness that jolted through him an uncomfortable distraction.

  “I don’t know.” She looked pointedly at his hand until he removed it.

  “It’s just for show. Once they’re gone, we go back to the original plan. You save up enough to move back to Scallop Shores.” He almost choked on the last few words.

  Wynter set the baby on her shoulder and lightly tapped her little back with the heel of her hand.

  “It coul
d work. As long as there were no surprise visits.” She frowned.

  “Your parents don’t do anything without a lot of preparation. I don’t think spur of the moment trips work for them. They need that element of control. They need to know that you are dropping everything to get ready for their visit.”

  “Thank you, Sam. You know them so well. You know just how to get us through this.” Her grateful smile was his undoing. Sam stood up, his mood turned miserable.

  “You’re forgetting one thing, Wyn. I’m the one that got us into this mess. Don’t thank me for a damned thing. We aren’t out of the woods yet.”

  Disgusted with himself, Sam hung his head and trudged from the room. He had to get groceries for his ‘pretend’ future in-laws. What had he gotten himself into?

  Chapter 11

  If the baby continued to be this fussy, Wynter doubted her parents would push very hard to get her to go home with them. Her dad kept finding excuses to drive into town, needing a newspaper, insisting they pick up a new tube of diaper ointment, even making an early morning bagel run. He might as well. They were all awake anyway.

  The poor thing had colic. The timing couldn’t have been worse, but there was nothing Wynter could do about that. She took perverse pleasure out of the fact that Gloria, who fancied herself the mother of all mothers, could not calm little Charlotte. The one person who seemed to have any soothing effect on the baby at all was Sam.

  It was 4am on the third morning of the big visit and Wynter scuffed her way through the downstairs, staying away from the stairwell and trying to give everyone else a chance to sleep. Yeah, maybe if they were sleeping with their pillows over their heads and a few blankets on top of that. The shrill screeches that rent the air were probably enough to be heard at Riley’s house. As if he’d ever let her hear the end of that.

  She entered the kitchen, lifting her gaze from the scrunched up, beet-red face of her miserable daughter to eye the coffeemaker longingly. Briefly she thought of setting Charlotte in her bouncy seat on the tiled floor while she made a fresh pot of coffee. But Mommy Guilt kept her from indulging her own needs. Lifting the baby to her shoulder, she began the ‘shh shh’ chant in her ear that occasionally worked to quiet her for a few moments.

  “Hey, you look like you could use a break. Give her to me.” Sam had snuck into the kitchen, looking all rumpled in his baggy sweats and a T-shirt stretched tight across his torso; his longer hair was sticking up and his jaw was covered in scruffy stubble. Did she say rumpled? She meant sexy.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on top of her head. Wynter looked up sharply, assuming one of her parents was around. When she realized they were alone in the kitchen she frowned, confused.

  “You only have to do that when they’re watching, Sam.”

  “Sorry. You looked like you needed it. I couldn’t help myself.” His grin was lazy, heavy with the last vestiges of sleep. It made her want to kiss it right off his mouth.

  Wynter shook her head to rid it of the images that had no business being there. She transferred Charlotte to Sam’s arms, looked at the coffeemaker again and back to Sam. He chuckled, nodding. Ah, sweet cuppa Joe, come to Momma!

  Sure enough, Mr. Baby Whisperer worked his magic, jiggling Charlotte on his shoulder until her cries turned to hiccups and her hiccups to a blissful snooze. He continued to sway in the center of the kitchen, his head resting against the baby, a content smile on his face.

  “How do you do that? It’s not fair.” Wynter cringed at the petulant tone in her voice. “She’s my baby but I can’t calm her like you can.”

  “I don’t know. Paulie’s oldest had the same problem. Started at about three weeks old and lasted about a month. I was the only one who could get him to sleep.”

  Wynter peeled a coffee filter from the stack and stuffed it into the basket. She scooped enough grounds in for a full pot and then added one more scoop for good measure. Snapping the filter basket closed, she filled the carafe with water, watching as Sam settled into a chair at the table. He was humming softly. She poured the water into the coffeemaker, set the carafe on the burner and joined her friend at the table. She’d allow herself this one cup.

  “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Sam.” The words held multiple meanings. He could take his pick.

  “I’m just lucky I got a chance to have you back in my life.” Sam reached across the table with his free hand and clasped one of hers.

  Wynter was about to remind him that the affectionate action wasn’t necessary when she heard her mother croon from the doorway.

  “Look at you lovebirds, sharing a cozy moment.” She slipped in and stopped at the table. “Why don’t you two run up and get some rest. I’ll watch Lottie for a bit.” Wynter gritted her teeth at the nickname she’d immediately despised.

  As it would be assumed that they were sharing a bed, Wynter had emptied her own room of her belongings and offered it up to her parents as the guest bedroom.

  Wynter was sharing Sam’s room, sure, but by no means were they really sharing the bed. In reality, they took turns, one sleeping in the bed and one camping out on the floor. Sam had tried to insist Wynter use the bed every night, but she wouldn’t hear of it. They locked the door so her parents couldn’t sneak in and catch them in their ruse. If it looked like they wanted their privacy, so much the better.

  “Uh uh. Too much at stake. I started that pot of coffee, I get to have one amazing cup of it,” Wynter said with an emphatic nod.

  “Suit yourself.” Her mother bustled into the kitchen-proper, opening the fridge and taking out ingredients for breakfast.

  “Mom, you don’t have to cook. Just sit with us for a minute. It’s quiet. Let’s enjoy it.”

  Gloria peered around the open door of a cabinet as she took out a mixing bowl. Her eyes settled on Sam, who looked quite content to hold his precious charge.

  “I’m up. I might as well be useful.” She cracked a few eggs into the bowl and began to whisk.

  The coffeemaker burbled a last gasp, signaling the end of the brew cycle. Wynter licked her lips. How long had it been since she’d indulged in a little caffeine? She poured a cup of coffee then held up an empty mug for Sam, who shook his head. She shrugged her shoulders, gliding to the fridge for some creamer before she settled in at the table with her new little family.

  “You know, it’s funny, Sam. When you all were in high school, Wynnie’s father and I would have sworn you and Holt were a couple.” Gloria waved the wooden spatula jauntily in the air.

  Did the woman not have a filter? Wynter shot an apologetic glance at Sam over the brim of her cup. He held her look for a moment, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  It was what they had wanted them to think. Gloria and Burt wouldn’t see the boys as a threat to their only daughter’s future if they thought they were gay. This was, perhaps, the reason Sam and Holt had grudgingly been allowed to come over after school to do homework, occasionally staying for dinner.

  Wynter was afraid they played it up a little too well at times, but oh how they had laughed about it afterwards when they’d snuck back later up the tree into her room. Her smile was melancholy, as she thought back to a time when she’d still had both Sam and Holt in her life.

  “Now here she is taking up with not one, but both of you.” Gloria chattered on, heedless of the insensitivity in her words.

  “A little respect, Mother?” Wynter gritted her teeth.

  “What’s the matter?” The woman smiled cheerily from the stove. “Oh, you mean because you chose Sam as second runner up?”

  “No, she meant show a little respect for Holt. He’s been gone less than a year.” Sam’s eyes flashed a warning that even Gloria seemed to have no trouble interpreting.

  “I wonder, though, what Holt’s parents would think of this latest development. Their precious, only child, being replaced so quickly . . . and by someone he used to be so close to.”

  Guilt weighed down so heavily, it was
a wonder Wynter’s chair didn’t break. She couldn’t look at her mother, didn’t dare see the look on Sam’s face. She stared morosely into the cup of coffee that now held all the appeal of a puddle of mud.

  “They would want me to be happy, I’m sure.” Was she? “Their granddaughter deserves a father figure in her life. Why not someone they know and already approve of?”

  Wynter’s mother went back to scrambling eggs, without another comment. Apparently she’d run out of snarky things to say. The two young people sat at the table, watching the baby sleep.

  The knot of anxiousness that had wound itself around her heart the minute Sam told her about his phone conversation with her parents began to ease. She’d get through this. Dare she hope that her friend was right? Her parents just wanted to secure a spot for themselves in their granddaughter’s life? They would visit for a few days and leave, knowing that their girls were well taken care of? Oh, please. She could dream though, right?

  • • •

  Mother Nature had dumped a few more inches of the white stuff overnight. It was now close to March and Sam was finding it difficult to remember what his yard looked like beneath this snowy mantle. Green? The only green around right now were the green garbage cans that he’d just set out at the end of the driveway. Muttering under his breath, he put his back into the chore, clearing the porch steps.

  Wynter’s parents had been visiting for a week. They hadn’t offered up any sort of time frame on how long they planned to stay. Neither had they officially stated that they intended to bring Wyn and Charlotte back to Florida with them. So he bided his time. And bit his tongue. Oh, he’d bitten his tongue down to a stub. But it was his fault they were here, after all.

  He rather enjoyed performing the ‘couple’ routine with Wynter. He was free to act on his feelings. Any excuse to take her hand in his, rub her back as they stood side by side, or brush a kiss against her temple while they cuddled on the couch, watching TV. But the nights? The nights were torture.

  He’d give anything to share a bed with Wynter. It wasn’t even about the sex, though his heartbeat sped up just thinking about her lying there, scantily clad and drowsy. It might mean turning in his man card if he had to voice it aloud, but Sam would have been happy to just hold her. To wrap his arms around her, press his nose into her sweetly scented hair and let the rhythm of her breathing lull him to sleep.