Snowbound - Harlequin.com

182 SNOWBOUND
couple in a Lexus SUV, who tipped him when he
carried their bags up to their room, then wondered
how far it was to the nearest restaurant and whether
he had a hot tub. His Web site emphasized the isolation
of the lodge, the family-style meals and the rustic
rooms and cabins. It didn’t hide the fact that bathrooms
were basic and shared. Maybe these two had
just looked at the pretty pictures and skipped the fine
print. Yeah, and maybe, he thought hopefully, they’d
decide to leave tomorrow.
It had been weeks since he’d had a really ugly nightmare.
He had one that night. John woke to find himself
rearing up in bed, his throat raw from his shouted
warning that came too late. Even in his nightmares, he
couldn’t let himself see the worst parts. The last thing he
remembered was knowing he’d been hurt bad, lying with
his leg not right, and staring with bewilderment at the
mud-brick wall that had provided meager shade while
he gathered the boys for a pickup game. Now…God.
Before his dazed, uncomprehending eyes, it was
splashed with bucketfuls of blood. So shockingly bright
as it dripped.
His stomach heaved, just as it had that day. Then,
after staring dazed at the blood dripping from a soccer
ball, he had pushed himself to his knees to puke and
seen… He lifted a shaking hand and rubbed his face. No.
He wasn’t going to remember. Not that. Thank God he
always awakened before he saw anything worse than the
blood.
He didn’t know why his life had been spared. Maybe
the sight wasn’t the point of the nightmares. Sometimes