Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON
93
He nodded.
“We’re done,” she said in surprise, looking around. “It
smells fabulous already. Are we planning a vegetable?”
“Maybe not tonight. I can heat some garlic bread.”
He kept loaves in one of the freezers.
“O-oh. That sounds good.”
“I’ll make a cobbler for dessert. I have blackberries,
huckleberries…”
“Really?” She looked at him as if he’d offered her a
sleigh ride behind white ponies with silver bells on their
harnesses. “I love huckleberries!”
This laugh came more easily. “You’re easy to please.”
“That’s not what my mom says. She thinks I’m picky.”
He lifted his brows. “About food, or men?”
“Both.” She set the cutting boards in the sink along
with the paring knives, and began wiping the counter.
“Your turn. I’ve bared my soul, and I don’t know anything
about you.”
“You know I was in the National Guard and went to
Iraq.” And was wounded.
“Yes, but besides that.” A wave of the sponge dismissed
the transforming events of his life. “Are your
parents still married? What do they think about you
buying the lodge?”
“Yes. They’re still married. I can’t imagine them
fighting.” He thought about that. “My mother, maybe.
But Dad is the strong, silent type. He nods to whatever
she says. She was always telling us kids, ‘your father
says…’ Or, ‘your father thinks…’ We didn’t believe
her. We knew he must think something, but we were
pretty sure he never told anyone what that was.”