Stranded For The Holidays
“Sorry to be so heavy,” she whispered.
“You’re not heavy. I’m used to hauling sacks of feed.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Not that you’re like a sack of feed... Or any other kind of sack... I just meant...” He closed his eyes. “I’m going to stop talking now.”
His mother planted her hands on her hips. “Silence might be for the best, Jonas.”
“I’ll go get your luggage.” A flush darkening his sharp cheekbones, he slipped out the door and back into the storm.
“Please forgive my inarticulate son.” Deirdre led AnnaBeth into a large, open-space living room. “He’s rusty when it comes to a woman’s tender sensibilities.”
Rough-hewn wooden beams bolstered the soaring ceiling. A wall of windows provided what in fair weather she guessed were magnificent views of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
Deirdre eased AnnaBeth into one of the leather armchairs flanking the massive stone fireplace. Orange-red flames danced from the fire in the hearth.
“Thank you, Deirdre.”
At the sudden whoosh of cold air, Jonas returned. Using his shoulder, he heaved the stout oak door shut, cutting off the roaring wind.
Hunter plastered himself to AnnaBeth’s elbow. “I told her awe about de wanch, Gwam-ma.”
Deirdre smiled, tiny lines fanning out from the corners of her eyes. “Welcome to the FieldStone Ranch, AnnaBeth.” She nudged the brim of Hunter’s Stetson upward. “Hats off in the house, remember, Hunter?”
AnnaBeth liked the motherly Deirdre Fielding. Probably not her fault that her son was a surly, ill-tempered cowboy.
Shuffling his boots, Jonas handed Hunter his hat, too. Hunter hung both hats on pegs on the far wall.
Deirdre’s gaze fell to AnnaBeth. “Oh, honey. You must be frozen. We need to get you out of those wet clothes. And those shoes... Your feet must feel like a block of ice.” She turned to her son. “How long was she walking in the snow? We should check for frostbite.”
“F-frostbite?” she whispered.
All of a sudden, everything became too much. The wedding. Scott. MaryDru. Getting lost. Almost getting hit by a truck.
Now this? Her eyelids stung with unshed tears. Hunter, Jonas and Mrs. Fielding swam in her vision.
By running away, had she made the worst mistake of her life?
Chapter Three
Jonas could stand a lot of things, but not a woman’s tears.
Ducking out from under the strap of AnnaBeth’s camera bag, he set both cases at the base of the staircase. “Let me check for signs of frostbite.” He dropped onto the leather ottoman in front of her chair. Hunter hovered at his side.
“It won’t be long before dinner.” His mother moved toward the kitchen at the back of the lodge. “But we need to get something warm inside her now. Do you like coffee, AnnaBeth, honey?”
AnnaBeth started to rise. “Yes, but you mustn’t wait on—”
“Lots of sugar, Mom, for shock.” A hand on her arm, he eased her onto the cushions. “We don’t want her fainting again.”
A line puckered AnnaBeth’s otherwise perfect brow. “But—”
His mother had already gone.
Jonas felt sick thinking of what could’ve happened to AnnaBeth if he and Hunter hadn’t come along when they did. In the Blue Ridge, winter should never be taken for granted.
“Son, can you find some socks to keep her feet warm?”
“Yes, sir.” Boots clattering, Hunter dashed upstairs.
She lowered her gaze to her hands, clasped in her lap. “I don’t usually take my coffee with sugar. As a general rule, I don’t eat sugar. I mean, I try to avoid it.”
AnnaBeth twisted a button on her coat. “I’ve always had to watch my weight. I really don’t need any sugar.”
He sensed a lifetime of hurt in her words. And none of it true. She was taller than average, about five foot six to his six foot three. But she fit perfectly well in his arms. Far too well for his peace of mind.
Jonas frowned. “Who told you that you should watch your weight?”
She tucked her chin into the collar of her coat. “Daddy says I take after my mother. But Victoria said I was just big-boned, and I needed to watch my carbs.” Two spots of red burned in her cheeks.
His gut knotted. He didn’t know her father or Victoria—nor was he likely to—but on general principle he decided he didn’t like them. Not if they’d hurt AnnaBeth.
Although, hadn’t he done the same insensitive thing? Remorse flooded him. He recalled her earlier apology for being too heavy. And his response.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. He should be horsewhipped. His mother was right. He’d turned into a curmudgeon. An idiot who didn’t know how to treat a lady.
Open mouth, insert horseshoe. Actually, the entire horse—saddle and blanket, too. Which reminded him... He stood.
Startled, her gaze lifted to his and locked. For a second, his world went sideways. Blood pounded in his ears.
Only by sheer force of will did he direct his feet toward the sofa. He must’ve risen too fast. Made himself dizzy.
Snatching the afghan off the sofa, he resumed his seat on the ottoman. “Prop your feet on my knees.”
Eyelashes fluttering like the wings of a frightened bird, she pursed her lips. “What? Why?”
What’s wrong with you? Manners, Jonas. Even four-year-old Hunter knew the magic words.
“Please.” He opened his hands. “I need to make sure your toes don’t have frostbite.”
“A-all right.”
She lifted first one foot and then the other. He was appalled—and scared—at how blue her feet appeared. Why on earth had she ventured out in such inappropriate footwear?
Gently, he eased off her left shoe, and set it on the floor beside them. Next, he removed the right one.
His thumb accidentally brushed against the skin on top of her foot. She quivered. His throat clogged. Her feet were cold, so cold, but thank You, God, no signs of frostbite.
Jonas wrapped her lower limbs in the folds of the afghan. Through the fabric, he rubbed the circulation back into her feet.
Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “You don’t have to do that, Mr. Stone.”
Pausing, he frowned. “I told you, it’s Jonas.”
She fidgeted in the chair. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine. I am fine, J-Jonas...”
Was saying his name that difficult?
He glared. “Be still, woman. The storm out there is nothing to play around with. The Blue Ridge Mountains are beautiful, but they can also be deadly.”
As beautiful as AnnaBeth Cummings. The thought stopped him cold. Momentarily befuddled, he stared at her.
Her lips parted. “What’s wrong?”
Nothing. Everything. His mother returned to the living room, bringing him back to the present.
She handed AnnaBeth a coffee mug. “Cream and sugar.”
AnnaBeth’s face fell. “Thank you.” Dutifully, she brought the mug to her lips.
He squeezed her foot. “Not that you should worry, but the cream and sugar don’t count today.”
AnnaBeth arched an eyebrow. “They don’t?”
“Not when it’s the first thing you’ve eaten in forty-eight hours.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You said... On the road...”
“I didn’t think you were listening. Most people—” Averting her gaze, she took a big gulp of coffee and sputtered. “Wow. That’s strong. But good,” she added quickly.
Jonas had noticed that about her. Always so careful not to give the slightest offense. Yet with that red hair of hers, he wondered what she’d be like if she ever got mad. Did she ever allow herself to get mad?
His mother smiled. “My coffee’s like my two cowboys. Strong. Sometimes a little thick. But with undertones of sweetness.”
Jonas started to rise, but his mother waved him to remain where he was. “Look’s like you’ve got this under control.” She settled onto the nearby sofa. “Like I said, a little thick. At least at first.”
Hunter dashed downstairs, saving him from further comment. “Here you go, Snow Pwincess.”
AnnaBeth blushed. “I’m not—Why don’t you call me AnnaBeth, Hunter? Or A.B. That’s what my sister, MaryDru, calls me.” She set the mug on the side table.
Hunter jutted his jaw. “I’d wather caw you—”
“Son!” Jonas got to his feet so fast, the room spun. Again. “Give Miss AnnaBeth the socks.”
A pleased expression flitted across her features. And he realized it was the first time he’d said her name out loud. Although, he’d been thinking her name far longer.
Kasey used to complain he was emotionally unavailable. How she never knew what he was thinking. After she deserted them, probably better she hadn’t.
Hunter thrust the socks at AnnaBeth. “Dese awe so, so wawrm, Miss AnnaBef.”
Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Where did you get those, Hunter?”
His son grinned. “Dese socks keep your feet wawrm, Dad. You told me to go get socks.”
Jonas ran his hand over his head. “I meant for you to get a pair from Gramma’s room, Hunt.”
Bending, AnnaBeth slipped on the heather-gray, wool boot socks. “Already my toes feel toastier.” She sighed. “I’m in love.”
He gave her a startled glance.
She went crimson. “I mean I’m in love with these socks.” She stuck out her feet.
Deirdre snapped her fingers. Everyone jumped. “That’s where I’ve seen your name. You write the Heart’s Home blog. I love your tagline.” She smiled. “‘May your heart always know the way home.’ That’s you, isn’t it, AnnaBeth?”
“That’s me.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you enjoy the blog, Deirdre?”
Hunter planted his fists on his pint-sized hips. “What’s a bwog?”
“Something on the computer.” Jonas jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “That’s what you do for a living? You write a blog?”
AnnaBeth lifted her chin. “I’m an influencer.”
Jonas blinked. “A what?”
“Honestly, son.” His mom threw out her hands. “Get off the mountain once in a while. Even if virtually. AnnaBeth Cummings writes reviews for products. She’s a trendsetter.”
AnnaBeth fluttered her hand. “I only write about what I love.”
“I loved your ‘Autumn Wardrobe Must-Have’ post a few months ago. And the endorsement you wrote for the Duer Inn sounded wonderful. Somewhere in Virginia?”
AnnaBeth nodded. “The Eastern Shore. A great place. Fantastic people. If you’ve never been, you should go.”
His mother’s lips curved. “Looked like a great place for a honeymoon.”
AnnaBeth’s cheeks turned pink.
He crossed his arms. Obvious much, Mother?
Jonas glowered. “I’ll take your cases upstairs. Which room, Ma?”
“I was thinking the Snowbird.” His mother headed to the staircase. “It’s an en-suite corner room, AnnaBeth, with a lovely view of the ridge.”
“Not that she can see the ridge in this weather,” he growled. “No telling when the storm will let up.”
AnnaBeth batted her lashes. “Are you always this cheerful and optimistic, Jonas?”
His mother laughed. “I think I’m going to adore having you around, AnnaBeth.”
Jonas scowled at them both.
“Stay by the fire for a few more minutes, AnnaBeth, and finish your coffee.” Climbing the stairs, his mother called over her shoulder, “I’ll put clean towels in the bathroom.”
Hunter grabbed the suitcase. “De Snowbirwd for de Snow Pwincess.”
“Take it easy, little dude.” He took the case from his son. “That’s too heavy for you.”
Hunter reached for the camera bag, but Jonas beat him to it. “Best leave that to me, too, son.”
If Hunter lost his grip and the bag tumbled down the staircase, the lens might shatter.
Hunter poked out his lip. “I’m big. I’m a cowboy.” Injured pride shone out of his earnest little face. As did the beginning signs of a fit of temper.
AnnaBeth leaned forward. “Such a big cowboy, sweetie pie. And a good helper.”
Hunter’s indignation deflated a notch.
She tapped her finger to her chin. “I’m sure your dad will need your help later. Maybe right now, though, you could help Gramma put out the towels. Can you do that for me, sweetie pie?”
“I can do dat, Miss AnnaBef.” Hunter bobbed on the tips of his boots. “You’re going to be so happy here.” His forehead creased. “You won’t go anywhere while I’m gone, will you?”
She touched his cheek in a gesture so sweet, Jonas’s breath hitched.
“I’ll be right here, little cowboy.”
Hunter’s face lit. “I’ve been waiting for you a long, long time, Miss AnnaBef. My whole—”
Jonas cleared his throat. “Run upstairs and help Gramma, Hunt.”
Hunter raced for the stairs.
“Thanks for that, AnnaBeth.” Jonas kept his gaze trained on the upper story until Hunter disappeared from view. “He doesn’t usually get so cranky, but it’s been a long day. He’s tired and hungry.”
“I remember when my sister, MaryDru, was little.” AnnaBeth smiled. “Tired and hungry is a perilous combination.”
Right now, Jonas felt in peril. Peril that had nothing to do with a snowstorm or a preschooler. He hefted the suitcase and camera bag.
She’d said the ranch reminded her of a dream. Home, family and belonging. Is that what AnnaBeth Cummings dreamed of?
It was a dream he’d spent his entire life trying to create for himself and Hunter at the FieldStone. A dream Kasey hadn’t shared. Emptiness gnawed at his chest, in the place where his heart used to reside, leaving him feeling hollowed-out and free-falling.
What was with him?
Time to put some distance between himself and the flatlander. As much distance as he could while snowbound inside the lodge. He started toward the relative safety of the second floor.
But with a sinking feeling, he wondered when it came to the alluring AnnaBeth Cummings if distance alone would cure what suddenly ailed him.
AnnaBeth wasn’t sure what she’d said that set off Jonas, but he’d hightailed it upstairs with her cases like she’d lit his hair on fire.
Getting out of the comfy chair, she edged toward the window. Outside, the storm continued to rage. She sighed. Considering the whiteout conditions, she might be forced to impose on Jonas Stone and his less-than-enthusiastic hospitality longer than anyone had anticipated.
And there was the matter of her car. What was she going to do about her car? Even after she got it fixed, what then?
She’d planned on moving into Scott’s condo after the wedding, so she’d relinquished her apartment in Charlotte. At this moment, she was essentially homeless.
But ever the optimist, she rallied. Life could be a whole lot worse than being trapped in a luxurious lodge in front of a cozy fire with Hunter the little cowboy, the motherly Deirdre Fielding and Jonas, the hunky but unfriendly cowboy for company.
Yeah, like I could be married to a man in love with my sister. Or still lost on a remote mountain road in a blizzard. Chased by wolves... Eaten by bears...
If Jonas Stone hadn’t come along, no one might have known what happened to her. She’d have been missing, presumed dead by her family.
Until her frozen corpse was found after the spring thaw. Maybe even by Jonas. Then he’d be sorry for being so snarly...
Although, if he’d never come along in the first place, he could hardly have regrets. She shook herself.
Whatever. No point in interrupting a great story—based on real events—with the facts. MaryDru jokingly claimed that, despite not being biologically related, it was AnnaBeth who’d acquired Victoria’s flair for the dramatic.
Sinking once more into the cushion, she propped her chin in her hand. Maybe she should consider adding a podcast next year to Heart’s Home...
“Mom’s got your room ready, AnnaBeth.”
Jolted, her chin fell out of her hand. Jonas, minus the heavy coat, stood beside the chair.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you heard me come downstairs.” He rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows and revealed forearms thickly corded with muscle.
Both of them turned at the sound of Hunter clomping down the steps.
Jonas made a wry face. “No mistaking him, is there?”
Her lips curving, she wagged her finger at Jonas. “Don’t talk about my favorite little guy like that.”
The little cowboy tromped over. “Hey, Miss AnnaBef.” He grinned.
She ruffled his short-cropped hair, and unfolded from the chair. “Your mother mentioned dinner. I can help out.”
Jonas rubbed his jaw. “I think she’s got it under control, so you’ve got time to change into dry clothes. Let me take your coat.”
“Um...” She bit her lip. “My coat?”
Jonas gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, your coat.”
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Deirdre emerged from the rear of the lodge.
Jonas held out his hand. “I’ll hang your coat in the mudroom off the kitchen.” The family, including little Hunter, looked at her, waiting.
So with great reluctance, AnnaBeth unbuttoned her coat and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. Letting his hand drop, Jonas gave an audible gasp.
Deirdre pursed her lips. “Well, that explains the bow.”
AnnaBeth pushed the bow out of her eyes.
Hunter fingered one of the floating ruffles flaring out below her knees. “Soft.” He smiled at his dad. “She is pwetty, isn’t she, Dad?”
Jonas’s eyes darkened. “Why are you wearing a wedding dress, AnnaBeth?”
“’Cause she’s a snow bwide, Dad. Our snow—”
“Hunter.”
She winced at Jonas’s clipped tone.
From the sudden chill in his manner, she could well imagine what he thought of her. Flighty. Shallow. Harebrained. Lacking substance. Or worth.
He wouldn’t be the first. Her family—with the exception of MaryDru—were charter members of the Don’t-Be-Ridiculous-AnnaBeth club.
Deirdre swallowed. “Oh, honey. On top of everything else that happened today, it was supposed to be your wedding day, too?”
AnnaBeth’s cheeks flamed. “It sure hasn’t turned out to be the day I expected.”
His face inscrutable, Jonas stepped back a pace. “Where’s your groom?”
She bit her lip. “Back in Charlotte.”
Jonas and his mother exchanged glances.
Deirdre patted Hunter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help me set the table for dinner? You can put out a special place for AnnaBeth.”
He smiled. “Okay, Gwam-ma. I’m so happy you’re here early, Miss AnnaBef.” He hugged her legs.
Early? Not daring to look at his father, she wrapped her arms around Hunter, inhaling the sweet little-boy scent of him.
Jonas pulled at his arm. “Go with Gramma, Hunt. Please.”
Letting go of her, Hunter followed his grandmother beyond the long pine table in the adjacent dining area toward the door AnnaBeth guessed led to the lodge kitchen.
Jonas took the coat from her. “AnnaBeth?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. She really didn’t want to get into what had happened between her, Scott and MaryDru. She didn’t have the emotional energy to go into it. Her wedding debacle wasn’t any of his business.
And then Jonas Stone surprised her.
“The guy’s a total jerk to have jilted you at the altar,” Jonas said, his gravelly voice slightly fierce. “You know that, right?”
Scott jilting her wasn’t exactly what took place. She opened her mouth to correct Jonas, but stopped. After declaring his love for her sister, that was exactly what Scott had been about to do. Only she’d beaten him to the punch and run away first. Jonas didn’t need to know the embarrassing details of her never-got-off-the-ground marriage.
Despite evidence to the contrary, she still had a few tattered remnants of pride. Everyone who mattered already knew what happened. Anyone else was on a need-to-know basis. And Jonas fell into the category of “most definitely didn’t need to know.”
Besides, give or take twenty-four hours, she’d never see him again. That thought descended upon her with unexpected gloom. But Jonas wasn’t done surprising her.
“Small consolation—trust me, I know—but you’re better off without him.” Her coat clutched in his large hands, he wrung the garment as if he wished it was Scott’s neck. “You’re better off not hitched to a loser like him for the rest of your life.”
A curious mixture of simmering fury—not directed at her, but on her behalf—and compassion filled his dark eyes. She gaped at him. And reminded herself to breathe.
No one had ever defended her supposedly injured honor so vigorously before.
“Don’t worry about your car. My cousin, Zach, owns the auto-repair shop in Truelove. I’ll get him to tow your car and find out what’s wrong.”
She didn’t know what to say. And for once, surprising herself, she said nothing.
But like a bottle finally uncorked, Jonas continued to speak.
“Storm’s likely to last all night, but until the roads are plowed, no one can get on or off the mountain. Worst-case scenario, we could be snowed in here for a few days.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We’ll sort everything out. I promise.”
A veritable avalanche of words. Jonas would be exhausted tomorrow, no doubt.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted his about-face. He said he knew—as in understood firsthand?—that she was better off without her erstwhile groom. In the past, had something equally humiliating and hurtful happened to him, too?
Jonas squared his shoulders. Broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, where his shirttail was tucked into his jeans. “Stay here as long as you like, AnnaBeth. You’ve found a safe place, a refuge from the storm, here with us at the FieldStone.”
Her heart gave a funny quiver. Her eyes locked with his. She soon became lost in his melted-chocolate eyes.
But truth be told, she was lost in more ways than just the obvious.
Chapter Four
After gulping down a quick cup of coffee the next morning, Jonas headed outside to feed the horses before breakfast. On the terrace, he paused to take in the wintry panorama of the ranch.
On the horizon, the surrounding mountain peaks undulated like cresting waves of snow. The precipitation had ended sometime during the wee hours. And sunrise dawned with a crisp, clear beauty. So beautiful it took his breath.
Not unlike the runaway bride he and Hunter had stumbled upon yesterday.
Frowning, he pushed off the patio. He was already regretting what he’d said to AnnaBeth last night. And what he’d inadvertently let slip about himself. But unhappy memories had resurfaced when he realized she’d been jilted at the altar.
He could well imagine her humiliation on what was supposed to be the most wonderful day of her life. How heartbroken she must be. How forsaken she must feel.
Something pinged inside his chest. He clenched his jaw. AnnaBeth wasn’t his responsibility.
Inside the horse barn, he stomped his boots to dislodge the snow. After breakfast, he needed to work on clearing the winding ranch driveway. And call his cousin, Zach. Although, no time like the present...
He blew on his hands before digging his cell phone out of his pocket. Only after several rings did he realize how early it was. Zach might not be—
“Sorry to wake you, Zach. It’s Jonas.”
“Dude...” His cousin grunted. “Ranchers aren’t the only ones running a business. I’ve been up since the storm moved on, towing vehicles all over town that slid off the road or got stuck in the snow.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling.” Jonas remembered something else. “Oh, and since you live in town, Mom wanted me to ask you to check on Aunt IdaLee. Make sure she didn’t lose electricity. That she has enough firewood—”
“I’m headed over there right now. She’s got pancakes and sausage waiting for me.”
Their aunt IdaLee was over eighty and had never married. But over the course of her five-decade teaching career, she’d taught nearly everyone in the county. Between all her grown-up former pupils and extended family, Truelove made sure she was well looked after.