Snowed In (12 page)

He went back to studying the selections. I was about to head to the counter when he said, “Have you seen this one?” He held up
Jacob’s Ladder
.

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“Nope.”

“I highly recommend it.”

“Okay then.” I took it from him and accepted his challenge, studying the various movies. “How

’bout . . .
Dark Water
?”

“Never seen it.”

I handed it to him. “Exchanging DVDs. Does this mean we’re going steady?”

Did I really say that? I didn’t say that.

He laughed awkwardly and took another step back. “No, we’re not . . . I mean, I’m already going steady with someone. And you don’t
do
steady.”

“Yeah, I know. I was kidding,” I said quickly, then held up the DVD he’d given me like an old priest holding up a cross to ward off a vampire.

“Thanks for the recommendation. Catch you later.” I walked to the counter where the “et cetera” part of the store was displayed. Candy bars, microwaveable packets of popcorn stuffed into tubs. Everything needed to provide a realistic movie-going experience.

Since I was a new customer, I had to fill out all the paperwork to be approved to rent a movie. I was almost finished when Josh came to the counter. When I turned to tell him to go ahead, I noticed one of the DVDs he was holding. I raised an eyebrow. “
Music and Lyrics?
You do realize that 141

movie has a scare factor of zero.” He blushed. “Yeah, I know. Nathalie—”

“Enough said.”

“She’s feeling a little better.”

“Good.”

Suddenly I was no longer in the mood to let him cut in front of me. Petty, I know. But there you are. Unfortunately, the clerk didn’t ask my opinion. He just went ahead and checked Josh out.

“Say hi to Nathalie,” I said when he turned to leave.

“Will do.”

He walked out the door.

After the paperwork was stamped “approved” and filed away, I paid for my rental. When I got outside, Josh was waiting with his back pressed against the wall.

He shoved himself away from the building. “I’ll walk you home.”

“I thought the streets were safe.”

“From crime, sure, but what if you slip or twist your ankle? You’re not exactly used to walking on snow and ice.”

“I did okay this afternoon,” I pointed out a little testily.

“Do you really want me to count how many 142

times I had to help you up or catch you before you fell?”

“Are you saying I’m a klutz?”

“Just saying . . .”

Of course, in one of those moments of irony, I—who had yet to slip when walking around this portion of the island—put my foot on some ice and, yes indeedy, my foot slid out from beneath me and I almost landed on my butt.

But Josh reached out, grabbed my arms, and pulled me close. Or as close as one bundled Eskimo—me—could get to a guy who obviously was never affected by cold. But even with all the comfy down stuffing between us, when my gloved hand pressed against his firm chest, I thought I could actually feel warmth seeping through his sweater into my skin.

“Point made,” he said smugly, releasing me but making sure I remained steady.

“Not quite. Ankles are not twisted, sprained, or strained.” Although I did feel a little twinge when I took a step, but no way was I going to admit that.

And I didn’t think my limp was noticeable as we began walking down the street, another awkward silence stretching between us.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” I began.

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“Good hobby.”

“Ha-ha.”

I gave him a hard look. He grinned. I sighed.

“Anyway, with no motorized vehicles around, do you even have a driver’s license?”

“Sure. What kind of question is that?”

“How would you learn to drive?”

“Go to drivers’ school on the mainland.”

“It seems kinda pointless to get one. You can’t drive anywhere.”

“You know, we’re not prisoners here. We can find lots of places to drive to on the mainland.”

“Yeah, but you have no real experience. You’d be hazardous, a danger to other drivers.”

“I’m a great driver. Not one ticket or accident.”

“All guys think they’re great drivers. Besides, the odds are in your favor, considering how seldom you drive—”

“Give me a break. I do a
lot
of driving.” I almost said something like, “Next time we’re on the mainland you’ll have to prove it.” The problem was, it would give the impression we’d be going to the mainland together—which we never would. Ever. Besides, it bordered on that whole are-we-hinting-at-a-date thing again.

We came to an area where I could look through a large break between the buildings and 144

see the bridge that joined the distant straits, connecting lower Michigan to the Upper Penninsula.

“The bridge is so pretty at night,” I said.

“Yeah. There’s nothing like it.”

“Well, actually, we do have bridges in Texas.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about Texas. Everything is bigger there.”

“Pretty much. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Okay, so I fell into the date-comment trap. But it was just there, waiting to be used.

It’s amazing how a quiet person can get even quieter when something is said that makes him start thinking. I needed him to stop thinking, to stop analyzing what I’d said. “I read somewhere that the strait freezes over,” I blurted.

Why don’t you just hold up a sign, Ash? Watch out!

Changing topic up ahead!

“In another month or so, yeah,” he said. “It’s kinda cool really. We mark a trail with Christmas trees. Use it to cross the strait.”

“On foot?”

“Sure. Or snowmobile. But I like walking.” I waited a heartbeat to see if he was going to say we’d walk together sometime. I was surprised when he didn’t. Maybe even a little disappointed.

I would have liked to have had one real date with 145

him. Although this afternoon’s experience could probably count.

It was difficult to stay angry or disappointed when the night surrounding us was so peaceful.

The streetlights sent out a warm glow. The snow crunched slightly beneath our feet. A horse-drawn sleigh passed by us. The couple sitting inside was snuggled beneath a blanket.

“My friend Tara would love it here,” I said.

“She’s a total romantic.”

“She’d find the cold romantic?”

“No, doofus. The horse-drawn sleighs.”

“What’s romantic about them?”

I rolled my eyes. Guys. Honestly. “If you have to be told, then there’s nothing romantic about them.”

“They’re transportation.”

I wondered if a time would come when all the special things would no longer seem special to me.

We arrived at Chateau Ashleigh.

“Well, here we are. Thanks for keeping me safe,” I said.

We were standing on what would be the side-walk if anything except snow was visible.

“No problem,” he said.

“Did you want to warm up before you head home?” An image of us snuggling in front of the 146

fire popped into my head. I hastily added, “I could make some hot chocolate.”

“Thanks, but Nathalie’s waiting.” He held up the videos.

“Oh, right. I’m glad she’s feeling better.”

“Yeah.”

I expected him to leave. But he just stood there.

“Look, about this afternoon—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said hastily.

He nodded. “You kissed me back.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know. I just . . . I’m feeling guilty.”

“That’s good. I mean, I respect that you feel bad about what happened.”

“Yeah, well . . .”

“I do too. She’s been so nice to me.”

“How do you do it? How do you date a bunch of different guys?”

I was cold. I wanted to go inside. But I wanted to stay out here, too. I wanted to talk with Josh.

Shoot. I wanted to kiss him again.

Instead, I shrugged. “I just never went on a date with a guy who made me not want to go out with someone else. If that makes sense.”

“It does. Sorta. I mean, I think I get what you’re saying. So if I didn’t have a girlfriend, how 147

many dates would we have?”

I released a big sigh. “Hard to say.”

“What’s the most you’ve ever had with one guy?”

“Three.”

“It must be hard to break up with someone.”

“There’s no breaking up. We just stop dating.”

“Right.”

“Nathalie’s probably wondering where you are.”

“Probably. I’d better go.” He tapped the DVD

clutched in my gloved hand. “Call if you get scared.”

He turned on his heel and walked away. I should have gone into the house, but I didn’t. I stood there until I couldn’t see him anymore.

I hadn’t even started to watch the movie yet, and I was scared.

Scared that I’d never meet anyone I wanted to be with as badly as I wanted to be with Josh.

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13

The next morning I woke up and could barely move my legs without moaning. Apparently the day before I’d used muscles in my thighs that I hadn’t even realized I had.

I hobbled down the stairs. It was really quiet on the second floor. No one was working yet.

I slowly made my way to the kitchen. Mom and Mr. Wynter were sitting at the table drinking coffee. The room smelled like bacon and maple syrup. Mom must have fixed breakfast.

“Are you okay?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, just a little sore from the trek I made yesterday.” I shuffled to the counter and poured my coffee, prepped it just the way I liked it, and took a long sip.

Leaning against the counter, I thought about asking if Josh was here. But would that make them wonder why I cared?

“Why don’t you come sit down?” Mom asked.

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“Because I’m afraid if I sit, I may never be able to get back up.” I glanced over at Mr. Wynter. “I guess Josh isn’t sore.”

“I doubt it, but he had something to take care of today, so he won’t be working with me.” I was surprised by the disappointment that hammered into me. I looked out the window at the mounds of white and thought of kissing in the snow . . .

Great, just great. Was everything going to remind me of him?

I spent the morning finishing off the stenciling in the guestroom—although my thighs protested climbing the ladder. Then I went to my bedroom and began designing the website for the B&B.

Mom had already given me a lot of the information that she wanted to publicize, so I just had to organize it, design some graphics, and use the creative side of my brain.

I love doing the layout of a new page, and normally, I get lost in the process. But today I found myself staring through the window toward Nathalie’s house, wondering if what Josh had to do involved being with her. Maybe he was feeding her chicken noodle soup. Rubbing her feet. Warming up blankets for her.

Confessing that he’d kissed me.

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I didn’t understand why I kept thinking about him. I never thought about a guy this much.

The knock outside my room barely registered with me.

“Door’s open!”

It opened slowly, and Josh peered inside.

“Actually, it’s not.”

I tried to act calm and cool by just sitting in my chair, but it’s one of those with a swiveling seat and I almost made myself dizzy by how much half swiveling I was doing, one way, then the other, back and forth, back and forth.

“That’s just an expression,” I said.

“But it’s wrong.”

I couldn’t believe how glad I was to see him.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting Mr. Dictionary.” Grinning, he tossed something at me. I caught the plastic jar before it crashed to the floor. “What’s this?”

“A warm therapy gel. You rub it on your legs to help ease the stiffness.”

“How did you know I was stiff?”

“Lucky guess.”

I wrapped both my hands around it. “Thanks.

I am pretty sore.”

“The balm is all-natural. I use it all the time after games. I brought you something else, too.” 151

He opened the door wider and carried in a book-shelf.

“Oh, wow!” I set the jar on the desk and got to my feet. Groaning with the sudden movement, I walked toward him like I’d turned into a zombie.

The shelf fit perfectly in the little nook where the ceiling slanted. At the narrow end where books couldn’t fit, he’d put little cubbyholes.

“Thought you could put your little mice in those,” he said.

“That’s great!” I ran my hand over one of the smooth shelves. “I didn’t expect it to be this nice.

Really, I don’t know how to thank you.” I looked at him then and sorta wished I hadn’t, because I had a feeling he was thinking that a kiss would be a great way to say thank you.

“How’s Nathalie?” I felt compelled to ask, to remind him—and me—that there was someone else.

“She’s good.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Our conversation was in danger of putting me to sleep.

He moved from beneath the low ceiling so he could stand up straight.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

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Okay, that woke me up.

“You have to.” I moved to the desk and picked up the jar. “Thanks for everything.”

“Do you think about me?”

“Not really.”

“Not at all?”

“Look, there’s another woman in my dad’s life, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel or makes my mom feel, so I’m not going to do that to someone.”

He nodded. “You’re right. So, you going on the hayride tonight?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

Or a reason that it’s any of your business?

“Nah, I was just curious.”

“Yeah, I’m planning to go.”

“Good. I’ll catch you later, then.” I watched him walk out of my room. Then I looked at the shelves and I knew I’d lied.

Did I think about him?

Almost every minute of every hour since he’d kissed me.

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14

I figured the best way to stop thinking about Josh was to focus on Chase. Maybe I’d even break my dating record with him and go for an amazing four dates.

So I decided to take this hayride seriously. I was going to wear knockout clothes. Or as close to knockout as I could get and still be warm. Which actually, when I got right down to it, meant no knockout at all.