Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON 215
as if he were hungry to learn everything about her. She
found herself confessing to things she’d been dismayed
to learn about herself.
“Thanksgiving was weird,” she admitted, when they
took a walk down to the creek. Snow crunched under
their feet, and ahead moving water burbled in an otherwise
silent landscape. The cabins, no doubt inviting in
summer, looked cold and empty with unmarked snow
burying steps, no smoke coming from metal stovepipes,
and windows glinting blankly. Icicles hung from eaves.
“Do you know,” Fiona continued, as they followed
a path made by cross-country skies and showshoes, “I
think I was jealous? I told myself I was glad Mom is
dating, but then I secretly resented this man because I
had to share her with him. I’m so used to having her to
myself.” She shook her head at the memory and with
one gloved hand brushed snow from a bough that
sprang higher once released from the weight. “They
were really careful not to touch, and we were all so awkward.
I’m embarrassed to remember.”
“Even if you’d felt comfortable, they might not
have.” John wore a fleece hat—something he rarely
did. It was so cold today.
“I’m sure. But they were awkward because of me.
Because I sat there wishing Mom hadn’t invited him.
I felt awful when she made a point of telling me
Christmas Eve would be just us. And—” this was the
most humiliating part “—even worse when I said I’d
be away for Christmas and I heard her voice lighten
when she told me not to worry, she wouldn’t have to
be alone.”