Snowbound - Harlequin.com

JANICE KAY JOHNSON
99
their great-grandmothers would have used. She decided
not to mention that option yet.
“Why don’t you just fold a bunch of toilet paper
inside your underwear for now?”
There was a pause, then a horrified, “Toilet paper?”
Nope. Fiona definitely wasn’t saying a word about
rags, or the interesting historical fact that women on the
Oregon Trail had had to reuse them without washing
when no water was available, and had dried them by
hanging them on the back of the wagon. Diapers, too.
Must have been a pretty sight for the driver of the next
wagon in line.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
She paused for a moment on the stairs, looking at the
tableau below her. Everyone was lounging, one group
playing poker, a few reading or listening to music. They
looked amazingly content, considering they were
stranded here and not on vacation. Unaware of her
above, John tossed a log onto the fire, raising a storm
of sparks. For just a moment, she couldn’t help letting
her gaze linger on his broad shoulders and—okay, admit
it—the way his jeans clung to muscular thighs and butt.
His shoulders were nice, too, broad and strong.
Willow, she reminded herself.
Continuing down, Fiona caught Erin’s eye. Erin had
been reading, sitting on an area rug, legs outstretched,
and leaning against the massive leather sofa. Troy lay
on the sofa, eyes closed, headphones on, his fingers
drumming on the leather.
Erin stood and casually made her way over to the
teacher. “Is something wrong?”