by Lisa Carter
“That’s me.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you enjoy the blog, Deirdre?”
Hunter planted his fists on his pint-sized hips. “What’s a bwog?”
“Something on the computer.” Jonas jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “That’s what you do for a living? You write a blog?”
AnnaBeth lifted her chin. “I’m an influencer.”
Jonas blinked. “A what?”
“Honestly, son.” His mom threw out her hands. “Get off the mountain once in a while. Even if virtually. AnnaBeth Cummings writes reviews for products. She’s a trendsetter.”
AnnaBeth fluttered her hand. “I only write about what I love.”
“I loved your ‘Autumn Wardrobe Must-Have’ post a few months ago. And the endorsement you wrote for the Duer Inn sounded wonderful. Somewhere in Virginia?”
AnnaBeth nodded. “The Eastern Shore. A great place. Fantastic people. If you’ve never been, you should go.”
His mother’s lips curved. “Looked like a great place for a honeymoon.”
AnnaBeth’s cheeks turned pink.
He crossed his arms. Obvious much, Mother?
Jonas glowered. “I’ll take your cases upstairs. Which room, Ma?”
“I was thinking the Snowbird.” His mother headed to the staircase. “It’s an en-suite corner room, AnnaBeth, with a lovely view of the ridge.”
“Not that she can see the ridge in this weather,” he growled. “No telling when the storm will let up.”
AnnaBeth batted her lashes. “Are you always this cheerful and optimistic, Jonas?”
His mother laughed. “I think I’m going to adore having you around, AnnaBeth.”
Jonas scowled at them both.
“Stay by the fire for a few more minutes, AnnaBeth, and finish your coffee.” Climbing the stairs, his mother called over her shoulder, “I’ll put clean towels in the bathroom.”
Hunter grabbed the suitcase. “De Snowbirwd for de Snow Pwincess.”
“Take it easy, little dude.” He took the case from his son. “That’s too heavy for you.”
Hunter reached for the camera bag, but Jonas beat him to it. “Best leave that to me, too, son.”
If Hunter lost his grip and the bag tumbled down the staircase, the lens might shatter.
Hunter poked out his lip. “I’m big. I’m a cowboy.” Injured pride shone out of his earnest little face. As did the beginning signs of a fit of temper.
AnnaBeth leaned forward. “Such a big cowboy, sweetie pie. And a good helper.”
Hunter’s indignation deflated a notch.
She tapped her finger to her chin. “I’m sure your dad will need your help later. Maybe right now, though, you could help Gramma put out the towels. Can you do that for me, sweetie pie?”
“I can do dat, Miss AnnaBef.” Hunter bobbed on the tips of his boots. “You’re going to be so happy here.” His forehead creased. “You won’t go anywhere while I’m gone, will you?”
She touched his cheek in a gesture so sweet, Jonas’s breath hitched.
“I’ll be right here, little cowboy.”
Hunter’s face lit. “I’ve been waiting for you a long, long time, Miss AnnaBef. My whole—”
Jonas cleared his throat. “Run upstairs and help Gramma, Hunt.”
Hunter raced for the stairs.
“Thanks for that, AnnaBeth.” Jonas kept his gaze trained on the upper story until Hunter disappeared from view. “He doesn’t usually get so cranky, but it’s been a long day. He’s tired and hungry.”
“I remember when my sister, MaryDru, was little.” AnnaBeth smiled. “Tired and hungry is a perilous combination.”
Right now, Jonas felt in peril. Peril that had nothing to do with a snowstorm or a preschooler. He hefted the suitcase and camera bag.
She’d said the ranch reminded her of a dream. Home, family and belonging. Is that what AnnaBeth Cummings dreamed of?
It was a dream he’d spent his entire life trying to create for himself and Hunter at the FieldStone. A dream Kasey hadn’t shared. Emptiness gnawed at his chest, in the place where his heart used to reside, leaving him feeling hollowed-out and free-falling.
What was with him?
Time to put some distance between himself and the flatlander. As much distance as he could while snowbound inside the lodge. He started toward the relative safety of the second floor.
But with a sinking feeling, he wondered when it came to the alluring AnnaBeth Cummings if distance alone would cure what suddenly ailed him.
* * *
AnnaBeth wasn’t sure what she’d said that set off Jonas, but he’d hightailed it upstairs with her cases like she’d lit his hair on fire.
Getting out of the comfy chair, she edged toward the window. Outside, the storm continued to rage. She sighed. Considering the whiteout conditions, she might be forced to impose on Jonas Stone and his less-than-enthusiastic hospitality longer than anyone had anticipated.
And there was the matter of her car. What was she going to do about her car? Even after she got it fixed, what then?
She’d planned on moving into Scott’s condo after the wedding, so she’d relinquished her apartment in Charlotte. At this moment, she was essentially homeless.
But ever the optimist, she rallied. Life could be a whole lot worse than being trapped in a luxurious lodge in front of a cozy fire with Hunter the little cowboy, the motherly Deirdre Fielding and Jonas, the hunky but unfriendly cowboy for company.
Yeah, like I could be married to a man in love with my sister. Or still lost on a remote mountain road in a blizzard. Chased by wolves... Eaten by bears...
If Jonas Stone hadn’t come along, no one might have known what happened to her. She’d have been missing, presumed dead by her family.
Until her frozen corpse was found after the spring thaw. Maybe even by Jonas. Then he’d be sorry for being so snarly...
Although, if he’d never come along in the first place, he could hardly have regrets. She shook herself.
Whatever. No point in interrupting a great story—based on real events—with the facts. MaryDru jokingly claimed that, despite not being biologically related, it was AnnaBeth who’d acquired Victoria’s flair for the dramatic.
Sinking once more into the cushion, she propped her chin in her hand. Maybe she should consider adding a podcast next year to Heart’s Home...
“Mom’s got your room ready, AnnaBeth.”
Jolted, her chin fell out of her hand. Jonas, minus the heavy coat, stood beside the chair.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you heard me come downstairs.” He rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows and revealed forearms thickly corded with muscle.
Both of them turned at the sound of Hunter clomping down the steps.
Jonas made a wry face. “No mistaking him, is there?”
Her lips curving, she wagged her finger at Jonas. “Don’t talk about my favorite little guy like that.”
The little cowboy tromped over. “Hey, Miss AnnaBef.” He grinned.
She ruffled his short-cropped hair, and unfolded from the chair. “Your mother mentioned dinner. I can help out.”
Jonas rubbed his jaw. “I think she’s got it under control, so you’ve got time to change into dry clothes. Let me take your coat.”
“Um...” She bit her lip. “My coat?”
Jonas gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, your coat.”
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Deirdre emerged from the rear of the lodge.
Jonas held out his hand. “I’ll hang your coat in the mudroom off the kitchen.” The family, including little Hunter, looked at her, waiting.
So with great reluctance, AnnaBeth unbuttoned her coat and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. Letting his hand drop, Jonas gave an audible gasp.
Deir
dre pursed her lips. “Well, that explains the bow.”
AnnaBeth pushed the bow out of her eyes.
Hunter fingered one of the floating ruffles flaring out below her knees. “Soft.” He smiled at his dad. “She is pwetty, isn’t she, Dad?”
Jonas’s eyes darkened. “Why are you wearing a wedding dress, AnnaBeth?”
“’Cause she’s a snow bwide, Dad. Our snow—”
“Hunter.”
She winced at Jonas’s clipped tone.
From the sudden chill in his manner, she could well imagine what he thought of her. Flighty. Shallow. Harebrained. Lacking substance. Or worth.
He wouldn’t be the first. Her family—with the exception of MaryDru—were charter members of the Don’t-Be-Ridiculous-AnnaBeth club.
Deirdre swallowed. “Oh, honey. On top of everything else that happened today, it was supposed to be your wedding day, too?”
AnnaBeth’s cheeks flamed. “It sure hasn’t turned out to be the day I expected.”
His face inscrutable, Jonas stepped back a pace. “Where’s your groom?”
She bit her lip. “Back in Charlotte.”
Jonas and his mother exchanged glances.
Deirdre patted Hunter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help me set the table for dinner? You can put out a special place for AnnaBeth.”
He smiled. “Okay, Gwam-ma. I’m so happy you’re here early, Miss AnnaBef.” He hugged her legs.
Early? Not daring to look at his father, she wrapped her arms around Hunter, inhaling the sweet little-boy scent of him.
Jonas pulled at his arm. “Go with Gramma, Hunt. Please.”
Letting go of her, Hunter followed his grandmother beyond the long pine table in the adjacent dining area toward the door AnnaBeth guessed led to the lodge kitchen.
Jonas took the coat from her. “AnnaBeth?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. She really didn’t want to get into what had happened between her, Scott and MaryDru. She didn’t have the emotional energy to go into it. Her wedding debacle wasn’t any of his business.
And then Jonas Stone surprised her.
“The guy’s a total jerk to have jilted you at the altar,” Jonas said, his gravelly voice slightly fierce. “You know that, right?”
Scott jilting her wasn’t exactly what took place. She opened her mouth to correct Jonas, but stopped. After declaring his love for her sister, that was exactly what Scott had been about to do. Only she’d beaten him to the punch and run away first. Jonas didn’t need to know the embarrassing details of her never-got-off-the-ground marriage.
Despite evidence to the contrary, she still had a few tattered remnants of pride. Everyone who mattered already knew what happened. Anyone else was on a need-to-know basis. And Jonas fell into the category of “most definitely didn’t need to know.”
Besides, give or take twenty-four hours, she’d never see him again. That thought descended upon her with unexpected gloom. But Jonas wasn’t done surprising her.
“Small consolation—trust me, I know—but you’re better off without him.” Her coat clutched in his large hands, he wrung the garment as if he wished it was Scott’s neck. “You’re better off not hitched to a loser like him for the rest of your life.”
A curious mixture of simmering fury—not directed at her, but on her behalf—and compassion filled his dark eyes. She gaped at him. And reminded herself to breathe.
No one had ever defended her supposedly injured honor so vigorously before.
“Don’t worry about your car. My cousin, Zach, owns the auto-repair shop in Truelove. I’ll get him to tow your car and find out what’s wrong.”
She didn’t know what to say. And for once, surprising herself, she said nothing.
But like a bottle finally uncorked, Jonas continued to speak.
“Storm’s likely to last all night, but until the roads are plowed, no one can get on or off the mountain. Worst-case scenario, we could be snowed in here for a few days.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We’ll sort everything out. I promise.”
A veritable avalanche of words. Jonas would be exhausted tomorrow, no doubt.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted his about-face. He said he knew—as in understood firsthand?—that she was better off without her erstwhile groom. In the past, had something equally humiliating and hurtful happened to him, too?
Jonas squared his shoulders. Broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, where his shirttail was tucked into his jeans. “Stay here as long as you like, AnnaBeth. You’ve found a safe place, a refuge from the storm, here with us at the FieldStone.”
Her heart gave a funny quiver. Her eyes locked with his. She soon became lost in his melted-chocolate eyes.
But truth be told, she was lost in more ways than just the obvious.
Chapter Four
After gulping down a quick cup of coffee the next morning, Jonas headed outside to feed the horses before breakfast. On the terrace, he paused to take in the wintry panorama of the ranch.
On the horizon, the surrounding mountain peaks undulated like cresting waves of snow. The precipitation had ended sometime during the wee hours. And sunrise dawned with a crisp, clear beauty. So beautiful it took his breath.
Not unlike the runaway bride he and Hunter had stumbled upon yesterday.
Frowning, he pushed off the patio. He was already regretting what he’d said to AnnaBeth last night. And what he’d inadvertently let slip about himself. But unhappy memories had resurfaced when he realized she’d been jilted at the altar.
He could well imagine her humiliation on what was supposed to be the most wonderful day of her life. How heartbroken she must be. How forsaken she must feel.
Something pinged inside his chest. He clenched his jaw. AnnaBeth wasn’t his responsibility.
Inside the horse barn, he stomped his boots to dislodge the snow. After breakfast, he needed to work on clearing the winding ranch driveway. And call his cousin, Zach. Although, no time like the present...
He blew on his hands before digging his cell phone out of his pocket. Only after several rings did he realize how early it was. Zach might not be—
“Sorry to wake you, Zach. It’s Jonas.”
“Dude...” His cousin grunted. “Ranchers aren’t the only ones running a business. I’ve been up since the storm moved on, towing vehicles all over town that slid off the road or got stuck in the snow.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling.” Jonas remembered something else. “Oh, and since you live in town, Mom wanted me to ask you to check on Aunt IdaLee. Make sure she didn’t lose electricity. That she has enough firewood—”
“I’m headed over there right now. She’s got pancakes and sausage waiting for me.”
Their aunt IdaLee was over eighty and had never married. But over the course of her five-decade teaching career, she’d taught nearly everyone in the county. Between all her grown-up former pupils and extended family, Truelove made sure she was well looked after.
A few years younger than Jonas, Zach was a skinny beanpole of a fellow. With a bottomless stomach and NASCAR aspirations.
“Once you’ve filled your belly, cousin, there’s this broken-down vehicle on our—”
“I heard about your stranded snow princess.” Zach snickered.
Jonas could probably thank his mother for that. After dinner, he’d seen her on the phone.
He grimaced. “Her name is AnnaBeth Cummings. Did Aunt IdaLee tell you what happened?”
“Nope. When Miss GeorgeAnne opened the hardware store this morning, she told me. She’s doing a booming business selling snow shovels and sleds. Apparently, Miss GeorgeAnne, Aunt IdaLee and Miss ErmaJean had a conference call last night.”
Flashing back to how ErmaJean the elf had overheard Hunter’s Santa wish, he bit back a groan. “Don’t tell me those old women are alr
eady conspiring.”
“You definitely have a bull’s-eye painted on your back, cuz.”
“She’s not my snow bride,” he growled.
“Better you than me, dude. You don’t know how happy I am to not be you.” Zach gave a less-than-sympathetic laugh. “But no can do on towing the car today. The mountain road won’t be clear ’til tomorrow. Until then, for better or for worse, the snow bride is all yours.” He chortled. “Did you see what I did there? Better or worse?”
Jonas clenched his teeth so tight his jaw ached. “We’ll see how hard you’re laughing when I tell Aunt IdaLee it was you playing with matches that caught the Christmas tree on fire that year.”
“I was six!” Zach huffed. “Don’t go getting your spurs in a twist. Whatcha so afraid of? You got no call to be so—”
Jonas ended the call and scrubbed his face. Was he scared of the flatlander? The thought of her emerald-green eyes was like a punch to his gut.
Yep, ’fraid so. Something about AnnaBeth completely addled him. Call him a coward, but a little fear was healthy, right?
He headed toward the stalls. The sooner he could get AnnaBeth on her merry way, the better off he’d be. Until then?
If he had to stay outside all day, he’d do his best to avoid her. Out of sight, out of mind.
Famous last words?
* * *
It was the light filtering through the gingham curtain that awakened AnnaBeth. Curled beneath the gorgeous blue-and-white quilt, she felt as cozy as a cat. And as reluctant to move.
A kaleidoscope of yesterday’s events bombarded her memory. Scott and MaryDru. Her frantic flight, the snowstorm and the subsequent rescue by Jonas.
Grabbing her recharged phone off the nightstand, she discovered multiple texts awaiting her. Frantic messages from MaryDru, Scott and at least a dozen from Victoria.
A message from MaryDru said, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to fall in love with Scott. Please don’t hate me. Where are you, A.B.?
