Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio) Read online

  And since he had a standing reservation, he hadn’t bothered cancelling it this year despite the fact that the twins couldn’t come—in fact, he’d decided it might be a good place to blow off some steam and see if he could get back in his normal state of mind.

  But so far, coming here had only made him more irate. Even with only a little snow falling, the roads had gotten slippery on the way over, making for an unpleasant drive. And then he’d found his cabin inhabited by his best friend’s ex-wife. And not only that—she’d been wearing some skimpy pajama top that had given him far too good a view of her breasts, which had made him a little uncomfortable even as it had tightened his groin.

  But maybe it was silly to feel weird about that. After all, he’d known Sue Ann since they were kids, and he’d seen her in a two-piece bathing suit plenty of times over their years of hanging out with the same friends. Yet something about this, right now, had felt different, had felt . . . personal. Even though she hadn’t caught on that he’d been unwittingly staring at her chest half the time they were talking. Damn—the whole situation was beginning to feel a little surreal.

  Snow blew around the entrance to the log-hewn office as he opened the door to see Grayson Collier, the skinny old man who’d been renting him the cabin all these years. “Back so soon?” he asked, friendly as ever.

  Adam pulled the door shut behind him, blocking out the blowing snow and now-whistling wind. He tried not to sound too put out as he replied, though it required effort. “Not by choice. There’s a woman in my cabin.”

  Grayson just laughed. “And you left? I mean, I’d like a woman in my cabin, if ya know what I mean, son,” he ended with a wink.

  Adam just glared at him, unamused. Grayson had picked now to start being a funny guy?

  When Grayson caught on, though, he wiped away his smile and cleared his throat. “Oh, you wasn’t jokin’ around? There’s really a woman in your cabin?”

  “Yep.”

  His eyebrows knit. “Don’t see how that could be, but . . . well, give me just a minute to investigate this.” And with that, he pulled out an old-fashioned registry book that looked like it had been in service for decades. You didn’t find anything modern like a computer at the Snow Valley rental office. “Hmm,” Grayson said, studying the book. Then, “Oh,” “Hmm,” and finally, “Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh?” Adam asked.

  “Uh-oh,” Grayson confirmed.

  Adam’s fuse grew shorter by the moment, so it was through slightly gritted teeth that he said, “Uh-oh what?”

  “Well, we got us a new feller workin’ here, and it looks like he took a reservation for your cabin, not realizin’ you’d booked it already. And he musta checked her in before my shift.”

  “I see,” Adam said dryly, trying to keep his cool. “Well then, how about you just give me a different cabin?” He liked his usual cabin, but he’d take any cabin at this point. He slapped the key he’d been given on the counter, ready to trade it in for another.

  “Can’t,” Grayson said.

  And Adam felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Can’t?”

  “They’re all full.”

  At this, Adam simply blinked his disbelief. Usually it was empty here this time of year. “You’re kidding. How the hell many people rent cabins on Thanksgiving weekend, for God’s sake?”

  “Well, ’bout eight from the looks of things. Given that we got seven cabins plus you. Turley family decided to have a Thanksgiving family reunion sorta shindig, and most of ’em’s stayin’ here.”

  “You’re seriously telling me you don’t have a cabin for me?” Adam barked. “When I’ve had this booked since last year?”

  Now Grayson finally began to look as remorseful as Adam felt he should. “Sure am sorry, and I’ll be givin’ the new feller a lecture about it, that’s for certain. But . . . guess the good news is—at least your little boys ain’t with ya this year, so you don’t have to fret about disappointin’ ’em.”

  A thick sigh that bordered on a growl left Adam’s lungs. The old man made a decent point, but it didn’t make him any happier. He’d packed up enough food and clothes for a couple of days, enlisted his mom to feed the dog, and . . . hell, more than that, he’d just been counting on this getaway. It wasn’t a big thing—but it was the one thing he’d felt stood a chance of helping him get back in a better mood and ready to face the holidays. Damn it.

  Yet it looked like fate—or something—had taken away his options. “Well then, like it or not, guess as soon as you put my money back on my credit card, I’m heading home.”

  So it surprised him when Grayson appeared just as uncertain about this as he had everything else in their conversation. “You sure about that?” he asked, glancing toward the window. “I mean, you notice how fast that snow’s fallin’?”

  “I saw it,” Adam said, giving the window no more than a sideways glance. “But so what? I’ve got four-wheel drive—a little snow doesn’t slow me down.”

  “Hmm,” Grayson replied as if he knew something Adam didn’t. “You remember that hill you just come down to get here? I just got a call from up top sayin’ nothin’s movin’ up or down it now—road’s slick as snot. And besides, this is Snow Valley, ya know.”

  “So?” Adam asked, squinting slightly.

  “Well, it ain’t just a name. When it snows here, it piles up faster, falls harder. Somethin’ about the lay of the land and the air flow into the valley. A clipper that leaves an inch or two everywhere else leaves more like four or five down here. And that hill’s a bear—steep enough in good weather, and pert near impossible in bad.”

  Huh. He’d never heard any of this before—but he was used to driving in bad conditions given that he did a lot of snow removal to tide him over during the winter, and Grayson was probably prone to exaggeration. “Well, you just told me you don’t have any place for me to sleep tonight,” Adam said, “so looks like I don’t have much choice. I’m getting out of here.” Then he trudged back out into the cold, wrestling his keys from his pocket.

  The first thing he noticed was the way his work boots sank deeper into the snow than they had a few minutes ago. Then he lifted his head to look around.

  Shit. In a very short time, the whole valley had taken on blizzardlike conditions—everything covered in white and the snow blowing harder than before. He could barely see the first cabin less than twenty yards away.

  The next thing to catch his attention was the sound of slipping, sliding tires somewhere behind him, and he turned back to spot a dark shadow through the heavy snow—a big, sturdy-looking SUV struggled to make the first turn where the narrow road began sloping upward.

  Aw, damn. In truth, it was a hell of a road, and he had been sliding around more than he liked getting down here—and that was when the snow had been light. And now the behemoth SUV in the distance was making no headway.

  That’s when he glanced to his right to see Grayson standing next to him, having followed him out into the cold. “Told ya,” Grayson said.

  Adam only glowered—then said, “Where will you be sleepin’ tonight?” Since it appeared he might be bunking with the old man.

  “Office floor, I reckon. I keep a sleepin’ bag here for just such occasions.”

  Huh. Adam hadn’t even brought a sleeping bag. Since he’d rented a cabin. With bunk beds. Usually he took the bottom and the boys shared the top. His chest tightened with irritation all over again.

  “You can join me if you like,” Grayson offered. “Ain’t exactly comfy, but it’s better than freezin’ to death in your truck.”

  “You’re a ray of sunshine, old man,” Adam bit off in his direction. “But . . . the fact is, the woman in the cabin happens to be an old friend of mine. And since the place has bunks, it makes more sense for me to stay with her. Whether she likes it or not.”

  This was starting to feel like a bad movie. If things kept going like this, a crazed cabin killer probably would show up soon. And if Adam had been in a sour mood when he’d first gotten here
, now it had progressed to being downright rotten. To think he had a perfectly nice house that he’d willingly chosen to leave behind for this.

  He stomped back in through the cabin door, not bothering to knock since it was damn cold out. And Sue Ann looked up with a start, now sitting in the same chair where she’d been standing a few minutes ago. Apparently, she hadn’t meant to leave the door unlocked.

  “I’ve got some bad news for ya,” he said without ceremony. “You’ve got a roommate.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

  “All the cabins are booked for the night, and I’ve gotta sleep somewhere.”

  He watched as she sucked in her breath, an expression of disbelief on her pretty face, her blond hair pulled up into a messy knot behind her head, loose tendrils falling down and calling attention to her slender neck. And like before, something about seeing skin that was usually covered, here, now, in such a private setting, felt more personal than any other time she might have worn her hair that way over the years. Strange. Strange in a way he couldn’t explain to himself.

  You flirted with her earlier. Behind that silly reindeer head.

  Damn, he had. And he hadn’t quite known why, just like he couldn’t understand the way he was feeling now. At the time, he’d been bored, pressed into the situation by virtue of being den leader—it had been his last official act of fatherhood before driving the twins to Sheila’s parents’ house for their trip. He’d assumed Sue Ann would recognize his voice. And when she hadn’t, something uncharacteristically devilish had perked to life inside him, urging him to play with her a little—and before he’d known it, it had turned into flirting.

  It had, if nothing else, provided a momentary distraction from his crappy mood. And it had been . . . fun, even if a little weird. But he didn’t think this was the time to break the news that he was the bold reindeer, because, pretty or not, she looked completely upset, even more than before.

  “Well, if you insist on staying,” she said, “then I’ll just leave. Because if you’re here . . . ” She let out a heavy sigh. “It just ruins the whole thing.”

  Adam heaved out a hot breath. “Thanks a lot,” he said, trying to be more offended than . . . aroused. Since she’d just pushed to her feet to face him—and she apparently still hadn’t noticed what she was wearing in front of him. And hell, he wished she could leave, but . . . “If it was that simple, Sue Ann, I’d have left.”

  “What do you mean by simple?”

  “There’s a freaking blizzard going on outside.”

  She blinked up at him, confusion now shading her brown eyes. “Really? How can that be? It’s only November.” The bulk of southern Ohio’s snow typically showed up after the holiday, and it was downright rare to get a full-blown snowstorm this early.

  But he only gave a disgusted nod. “Really. And November or not, nothing’s making it up or down the hill, so we’re trapped here, at least ’til morning. Afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  This forced another thick sigh from her, the kind that came with a heavy shrug—which drew his attention back to her boobs, to the fact that her nipples were clearly visible through that pajama top. The bottoms, they were okay—flannel, with different colored snowflakes on them. The top, though—the top was getting a little hard to take. It was strappy, pale pink—paler than her nipples, he could attest, since the darker shade shone through—and ridiculously thin. Did the woman not know it was winter, for God’s sake?

  He’d always been kind of a boob man, and maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he’d always been vaguely aware that Sue Ann’s were probably nice, but now he knew for sure and the knowledge had his groin tightening again. Maybe more than tightening. Aw, hell. He wished he’d already grabbed his duffel bag from the truck on his way back in—so he could hold it in front of him in case his jeans were getting snugger there. Damn it. This was not what he needed. And the sad truth of it was, at this moment, he felt almost physically incapable of pulling his eyes away from her chest.

  So he felt he had as little choice in what he said next as in where he was sleeping tonight. “Um, do you have anything you can put on?”

  “Huh?” she asked, oblivious.

  But then he dropped his gaze pointedly back from her face to her breasts, so she finally looked down, too—then let out a horrified gasp.

  “I just thought maybe those pants might come with, like, a big matching flannel top or something,” he offered, squinting uncertainly. God, this was awkward. And since he had known Sue Ann for so long, it probably shouldn’t be, but it was and that somehow made it worse.

  She crossed her arms over herself as a bright blush blossomed on her cheeks. “Um, no—no matching flannel top, and I, um, don’t really have anything since I thought I’d be alone here, but . . . ”

  Her gaze darted frantically around until she finally grabbed up an afghan from the back of the other easy chair and wrapped it around her like a cape. Crocheted in warm, woodsy shades of green, it covered her up well, which should have made it better for him—only . . . hell, somehow it wasn’t helping. Seemed the damage was done; he was seeing her breasts in his mind now anyway.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he lied. Then repeated it—“Yes”—as if that might magically make it more true.

  Peering toward the window now, Sue Ann walked over to it in her afghan to stare out at the snow, looking completely distressed.

  And he almost felt bad for barging in on her—but mostly, he just continued being angry about the whole situation. “Look, it’s not my fault,” he said. “I mean, what’s the big problem? With any luck I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

  “The big problem is—” She stopped, sighed, still peering forlornly out the dark pane “—that I just really needed some time alone. To help me face the holidays—and some other stuff, too, it turns out. And maybe it wouldn’t have helped anyway, but I’m still just . . . ” She shook her head, appearing tired. “I’m just exhausted and humiliated by it all. And the truth is—between dealing with the holidays, trying to keep Sophie happy and acceptant of all this, and just trying to build a new life for myself, some days I feel like I’m barely holding it all together.”

  She pursed her lips then, looking more vulnerable than he’d known Sue Ann could, and despite himself, he felt the weight of her troubles in his chest and sort of wished he could give her a hug.

  “You probably don’t get that, though,” she went on, almost sounding resentful. “Guys are so sturdy. You went through your divorce so easy.”

  The words forced him to expel a heavy breath that echoed through his lungs. Adam didn’t talk about his divorce three years ago to anyone, ever. But right now, he was going to make one very small, quick exception. “It, uh, might not have been as easy as I made it seem,” he told her quietly. “And . . . I really am sorry you’re going through this.”

  Finally, she shifted her gaze from the window to him, and the sadness in her warm eyes brought him down even further. “Thanks,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry I just dumped all that on you. It’s just . . . that’s why I came here. To try to start getting on with my life. And so far . . . well, I got some really bad news after getting here, so it hasn’t exactly turned out like I planned. Then again, nothing has turned out like I planned, so why am I surprised?”

  Adam tilted his head, asking the obvious question. “What kind of bad news?”

  She met his gaze for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh before answering. “Maybe you already know all this from Jeff—”

  “I haven’t talked to Jeff in a while,” he interrupted. So whatever was going on, he probably hadn’t heard.

  Still, she hesitated again, and he got the idea it had grown difficult for her to speak. “The thing is—” She stopped, bit her lip. “My lawyer called right before you got here. To tell me Jeff and Ronni are getting married. And want to have a baby. And he’s trying to cut off my alimony already. And I’m not sure what I’m gonna do.”
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  “Holy shit.” That’s all Adam could muster for a moment. Talk about being kicked when you’re down. “That sucks. I’m sorry, Sue Ann.”

  “Thanks. But, um, let’s not talk about it, okay? And the fact that I just spilled all that . . . ” She made the same face as if she’d just eaten something unpleasant. “Please don’t tell Jeff I did that, okay?”

  “I wouldn’t,” he reassured her quickly. “And you don’t need to be embarrassed in front of me.”

  She didn’t look wholly convinced—and maybe he couldn’t blame her given the way he’d been acting and the stiffness in his voice even now as he tried to comfort her—but she gave him a short nod anyway. Then said, “So now that you know why I’m upset, what’s your problem? You’ve been a bear since you got here.”

  Being a guy who tended to keep his troubles to himself—and not usually let them show so damn much—he normally would have brushed off the question, changed the subject. But he supposed it was only fair. And besides, now that Sue Ann had seen the worst of him, maybe he wanted to explain, let her know there was a reason. “Sheila’s parents took the boys out West for the whole month, from now ’til after Christmas.”

  Though this clearly didn’t surprise her at all. “Sophie told me. It was all the talk at school.”

  Ah, made sense—her daughter and his sons were in the same class. “Well, it’s just a long time for them to be gone, especially this time of year, you know?”

  She nodded but said, “Well, at least you know they’re coming back.” Unlike her husband, she meant. And he supposed she made a good point. And maybe compared to her current troubles, this sounded small—because yeah, this fresh news about Jeff seemed pretty devastating. Even so, though, that didn’t take away his problems or make him feel any better. There was so much she didn’t know about him, so much no one knew. And things that weren’t coming back, ever.