Snowbound Snuggles

by T. F. Walsh

  The truth was, he hadn’t taken nearly enough time to evaluate what he wanted to do. He’d been focused on what Joely wanted him to do, and what would be the most expedient way to mend their relationship.

  “What are you doing now?” Joely pressed on. “What’s changed with you since the last time I saw you?”

  “Well . . . ” He wasn’t sure this was a direction he wanted this conversation to go. “I’ve handled several very successful cases. One was a sexual harassment case at a major company.” She looked away at this. He couldn’t blame her. “Bill’s talked about making me a partner.”

  “Do you still live in our old apartment?”

  “No. I found a nice place in Manhattan.”

  “Expensive. So you’re making a lot more money than you were when I left.” She paused significantly. “A lot more than you could ever hope to make if you moved out here.”

  She’d backed him right into that one. “Yeah, but the cost of living’s a lot lower out here. We’d get by just fine.”

  “But would you be happy? Would you really and truly be happy helping me expand my business? Is that really what you want to do with your life?”

  “This is an essay question,” he grumbled. “I’m way better at multiple choice.”

  “Okay, choice A—go back to New York without me. Choice B—I move to New York with you. Choice C—move to Colorado and help me with my business. Choice D—move to Colorado and work downtown for a corporate law firm. What’s your first choice?”

  The answer surprised even him. “This is silly, Joely.”

  “Tell me, Rey.” The expression on her face was fiercely demanding.

  He had to say it. She wasn’t going to let him get away with anything else. “Honestly, it would have to be B—you move to New York with me.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “But C and D are completely acceptable.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  He nodded firmly. “Yes.”

  Her eyes had gone sad. He wondered why, until she said, “Then you’re a better person than I am. Truly, Rey. Because I don’t think I could ever do choice B.”

  She pushed away from him, to her feet, and walked slowly into the bedroom. The door closed softly behind her. Rey put his face in his hands and sighed. Why did she have to make this so impossible?

  After a few minutes, he got up and followed her into the bedroom. She was stretched out flat on her back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

  “It’s okay, Joely,” he said gently. “You don’t have to want choice B.”

  She turned her head a little to look at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “It’s not that I don’t want choice B. It’s that there’s no way in a million years that I could go back to New York with you and be happy. Not now. Not after what I’ve done here. And that’s wrong of me, because if you’re willing to give up what you’ve built in New York, I should be willing to give up what I’ve built here, for the sake of our marriage.”

  “That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  He sank onto the bed next to her and took her hand, closing both of his over it. She had big hands for a woman, but she was tall and they didn’t look out of proportion on her. Besides, they were long, slim hands, with long fingers that could curl around a lump of clay and shape it to perfection.

  “What I built in New York I can build again here. But what you have here—I don’t think you could do the same thing in New York. I mean, you could have a little boutique, maybe, and be successful at it, but it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “Would being a corporate lawyer in Denver be the same as being a corporate lawyer in New York?”

  “No, but being a lawyer is different from being an artist. Something here speaks to your soul. I can see it in your work. The stuff you did before you came out here was good, but this new work is exceptional. You belong here. I couldn’t ask you to leave, knowing that. Besides, like I said before, I’m the one who screwed up. I’m the one who needs to make amends. Therefore, I’m the one who needs to make whatever sacrifices are necessary.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t look convinced. “It just seems too good to be true. Too fast, too perfect.”

  Gently, he slid a hand over her hair. The short blonde strands were soft against his palm. “The month’s not up yet. We won’t decide on anything until it is.”

  “Okay. That’s a deal.”

  He squeezed her hand. “How about some of that leftover pizza?”

  • • •

  They ate leftover pizza, then Rey had Joely stretch out on the couch while he massaged her feet. He knew they must be tired after the day at the shop, but he hadn’t anticipated the rest of her being tired, as well. He’d barely finished one foot when he realized she’d fallen asleep.

  Well, so much for another night of passionate sex. He’d have to take a rain check. Gently, he scooped her up from the couch and carried her into the bedroom. As he lowered her onto the bed, she opened her eyes and looked at him, smiled, and closed her eyes again. He doubted she’d been awake at all.

  The covers were still mussed from last night—and this morning—which was fortunate because otherwise he would never have been able to get her under them. He tucked them around her, then undressed and slid in after her. Still without waking up, she rolled toward him, curling her warmth against him as he settled into the mattress.

  Just like old times. He’d decided, over the last, long months of being alone, that he’d give up almost anything to have this back. Even New York. Even a possible partnership at his law firm.

  Joely had pillowed her head against his shoulder and he traced his finger down her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin. He could lie like this all night, he thought, just watching her sleep.

  Everything was going perfectly, he reflected as he drifted into sleep, himself. Exactly according to plan.

  Chapter Ten

  He woke before she did, for a change. Faced with this novel situation, his first instinct was to nudge her, or caress her, or in some other way to gently awaken her so they could make love.

  His hand was inches away from her breast when he hesitated. Sex was a pretty obvious route to take at this point. Maybe he should try something different. As he looked at her quietly sleeping face, the answer came to him. He could make breakfast.

  As much as Joely liked to eat breakfast out, he knew she liked it even better when someone made it for her. So, resisting the temptation of her sleeping self, he rolled out of bed and got dressed. In the kitchen, he poked through her cabinets, found a bag of pancake mix, and got started.

  The kitchen was full of the smells of coffee, bacon, and cooking pancakes when Joely meandered in, bleary-eyed and smiling.

  “Wow,” she said. “You’re making breakfast?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He poured her a cup of coffee and she took it, letting the steam caress her face. It smelled wonderful. She liked a strong cup of coffee, and Rey had gotten it just right. “I always liked it when you made breakfast, but you never seemed to have time.”

  “I have plenty of time now.” He deposited a plateful of pancakes on the table. Sitting down, she eyed them curiously.

  “They aren’t round.”

  He shrugged. “They were supposed to be shaped like hearts, but it didn’t go so well.” They looked more like stomachs, or livers, he thought. Not very romantic.

  But her smile told him she was touched, anyway. “That’s very sweet.”

  With his own loaded plate, Rey took a seat next to her at the table and picked up the bottle of syrup. “I’ve got an idea for tonight.”

  “What’s that?” She sampled a forkful of pancakes and hummed, closing her eyes as if it were an erotic experience. “These are good.”

  Rey squirmed a little. He’d never gotten aroused over pancakes before. It took him a second to remember what he’d been talking about. A small drop of syrup on Joely’s lower lip
had captured his attention. He should lean over and lick it off . . .

  “What about tonight?” she prodded.

  He dragged his attention back. His brain had gotten her naked on the kitchen table in a matter of seconds. Why was she still sitting in front of him with her clothes on? Oh, right, because this was reality. “I thought I might call Virginia and see if she has a room free for tonight. We could have sort of a mini-vacation.”

  She nodded reflectively. “I’ve always kind of wanted to stay there.”

  “Great. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “What about tomorrow, though? Perry’ll need help.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” He leaned forward, catching that annoying bit of syrup with his lips. “Just leave it all up to me.”

  She smiled. “Okay. I’ll do that. See if you can get the Romance Room.”

  “I will.” Although he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Virginia’s idea of a Romance Room might be.

  • • •

  Joely found herself daydreaming on her way to work. It was nice to be romanced, but she knew the novelty would wear off eventually. She also knew the difference between being courted by Rey and being married to him. The latter hadn’t been such a bad deal, when their marriage had been a priority.

  And he was ready to make it a priority again. He’d proven that, she thought, by coming all this way to put things right. He’d gone to a great deal of effort and seemed willing to do whatever it took to make things work. The least she could do was give him a chance.

  She was ready, she thought as she pulled into a parking space in front of the boutique. Ready to take the plunge, to see where it took them.

  Ready to be his wife again.

  The thought brought tears to her eyes. She brushed them away as she walked into the shop. She hadn’t realized, when he’d shown up here a week ago, how much she truly wanted him back in her life.

  It occurred to her, looking around at the shelves of pottery, jewelry and knick-knacks, that she could give this up. If it came down to it, she, too, would be willing to sacrifice her job to reclaim her marriage.

  She would tell him that tonight. She would tell him that, and she would tell him how much she loved him, how much she wanted to be able to wake up in bed next to him every morning for the rest of her life.

  Smiling through tears of happiness, she went to the cash register and started preparations for her day.

  • • •

  Rey popped in just before lunch with a smile on his face. He approached Joely and dropped a kiss on her mouth, casually, as if they’d been married for years. A quick thrill ran through her, the same kind of thrill his touch always evoked in her, even a touch suitable for public consumption.

  “Having a good day?” he asked. His fingers trailed down her back as he stepped away.

  “So far.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Perry’s grin. “You?”

  “I chatted with Virginia on the phone this morning. She asked me to come down and look at rooms so I could pick one out. So I’m headed over there.”

  “Get something nice,” said Perry.

  He winked at her. “Don’t worry. I will. Can I bring you two back some lunch?”

  “Of course,” said Perry.

  “All right. I’ll be back in a bit, then.” He kissed Joely again. “I’d take you with me but I want the room to be a surprise.”

  She watched him go. She never got tired of watching his retreating rear.

  “Looking good,” said Perry.

  Joely cocked an eyebrow at her. “You can stop leering at my husband any time now.”

  Perry laughed. “I didn’t mean that. I meant the whole progress of the relationship thing.”

  “Yes, I’d have to say progress is good.”

  “And you called him your husband. That’s a good sign.”

  Surprised, Joely realized she had, indeed, referred to Rey as her husband. “You’re right.”

  “And he does look fine in a pair of Levi’s.” Perry’s smile had gone wicked. Joely rolled her eyes, but made no effort to argue.

  • • •

  The afternoon flew by, as Joely found herself thinking far too much about what awaited her this evening. What kind of room would he pick for them? She knew Virginia’s lodge had a variety of eccentrically decorated rooms, but she’d never actually seen any of them other than the one where Rey had stayed his first night here. What else did he have planned?

  Holding down the fort while Perry took a break, Joely leaned on the counter and settled her chin onto one hand. She pictured herself reclining on a pink-quilted bed in a sumptuously decorated room, pink roses spilling from vases on the chest of drawers, while Rey poured champagne into a glass and lifted it in a toast.

  To us, he would say, and then she would tell him what she’d decided. I don’t need a month, she would tell him. I’m ready to take you back now, for better or for worse, forever.

  And she would kiss him then, and, champagne forgotten, they would roll back into the pretty pink bed—

  “I can’t believe this. Who do these people think they’re fooling?”

  The mocking, female voice cut through Joely’s dreamy thoughts, and she lifted her head. A pair of women stood next to one of her displays of clay pottery. It was an older set, one she’d designed about eight months ago. Only a few of the pieces were left. The taller of the two women held a candy dish upside down, looking at the marks on the bottom.

  “Just as I thought,” the woman went on. “Taking complete credit.” She set the dish back down with a clunk that made Joely wince. “All these others are just knockoffs, as well.”

  Joely straightened, resisting the urge to demand what the woman was blathering about. Those pieces most certainly were not knockoffs—she’d designed them herself and created them with her own sweat and tears.

  The other woman posed the question, though more tactfully than Joely would have. “What makes you so sure they’re knockoffs? They look like nice pieces.”

  The first woman snorted. “I saw these exact pieces at a boutique in Soho before we left for Vail. These podunk designers think they can get away with stealing designs from more established artists because out here in the middle of nowhere, who’s going to know?” She waved dismissively at Joely’s heartfelt work. “I wouldn’t waste a penny on these.”

  A boutique in Soho. Joely swallowed, a horrible thought rising in the back of her mind. She didn’t have time to work out all the implications, but she knew they were bad. Very bad.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said.

  The more abrasive of the two women jumped, as if only then becoming aware of Joely’s presence.

  “I’m sorry?” she said.

  “You said you saw these pieces in New York. Could you tell me who the manufacturer was?”

  The woman looked affronted. “I was having a private conversation with my friend.”

  If you wanted to have a private conversation, maybe you shouldn’t have been shouting, you annoying woman. Out loud, Joely just said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But you can understand that I’d want to know if one of my artisans was stealing ideas. I could get into some legal trouble, and I certainly don’t want that.” Her voice, to her surprise, sounded not only level, but civil and accommodating.

  The woman seemed placated. “They were at a boutique in Soho. But I’m certain you heard that part.” She sniffed and paused. Joely got the feeling she was waiting for another apology. She wasn’t going to get one. “I believe,” the woman finally went on, “the manufacturer was Cherokee Ceramics.”

  Joely’s stomach went cold. This was worse than she’d thought. “I used to work for Cherokee Ceramics.”

  The woman raked her with a glare. “Then I would suggest you have a talk with whatever artisan is now blatantly stealing from your former employer.”

  “I made those pots,” Joely said, her voice cold. “And I most certainly did not steal the designs from those misogynist
ic, arrogant bastards at Cherokee.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. Her companion grasped her by the elbow. “I think we should go.”

  “I don’t think so. I want an apology.”

  But Joely had been pushed past her limit. “If anyone in this store is going to apologize, it’s going to be you, to me. Otherwise, I suggest you leave. Now.”

  Haughtily, the woman gathered herself and stalked out of the store. Her companion followed, mouthing, “Sorry,” over her shoulder.

  Joely barely registered that they’d left. She stood stiff, shaking, her fists clenched against the counter. How was this possible? She’d parted company with Cherokee long before she’d designed that set of pots. How could they have possibly seen them?

  The door to the office opened and closed behind her. Perry breezed back into the front room, then stopped.

  “Joely. What’s up?”

  She turned toward Perry. Her face was cold, her emotions swinging wildly from anger to despair to rage. “I’m not sure yet. Something bad.”

  “Tell me.”

  Joely nodded. She told Perry about the woman’s accusations, but in the middle of the story, she suddenly stopped.

  Because suddenly she knew the question. The question that had nagged at her ever since Rey had arrived, but which she’d somehow been unable to put words to.

  “What?” said Perry.

  “Rey,” Joely whispered, barely able to vocalize the thought. “This is too much of a coincidence.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Joely’s fist clenched on the counter. “It’s been bugging me this whole time. Why did he come? What brought him out here in the first place? Did he really ditch his whole life just to come here and declare his love?”

  “Joely, no—”

  “He has something to do with this. I’m sure. And I’m going to find out what.”

  She spun, heading toward the door. Perry caught her by the arm. “Joely, wait a minute.”

  Reflexively, Joely jerked her arm free from Perry’s grasp. “What? Wait for what?”

  “Whatever this is, and whatever it might have to do with Rey, you might not want to know.”

  Joely shook her head. “No. This is too important. If he’s holding something back from me, I need to find out what it is.”