Read One Night in the Ice Storm for Free Online

something better than grocery store flowers. With your marketing
background, I’m sure you could—”
    “Would
you stop?” she interrupted, sounding sharper than she’d intended. “I’ve already
got a good job.”
    “Do
you like living in Richmond?”
    She
raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure. It just gets some getting used to.”
    “You
still come here a lot to visit. Do you miss it?”
    He
knew far too much about her life, and he was asking too many questions. It was
none of his business if she missed her home town—which she did—or if she would
be happier doing something different than she was.
    “Why
am I the one getting the interrogation? What about you? Didn’t you want to make
furniture when you were younger?”
    She
asked it in a tone that implied it was a very vague memory, but she knew very
well it had been his dream for years.
    He
met her eyes evenly. “I do make furniture.”
    “On
the side, maybe. But you can’t have a lot of extra time with all your
business.”
    He
just shrugged, much as she had earlier.
    “Do
you like what you do?”
    “I’m
good at it, and people need a trustworthy contractor.”
    “I
know that, but it’s not what I asked. Wouldn’t you rather just be doing
carpentry?”
    He’d
finished his sandwich, but he still looked down at his empty plate. Finally, his
eyes lifted to hers again. “We all grow up.”
    She
understood him. She understood him perfectly. She’d gone through the same
experience. In the real world, you couldn’t always do what made you most happy.
You made do. You adjusted. You let go.
    She’d
held his gaze for too long, and she felt her cheeks warming as she glanced
down, flustered and confused.
    She
finished her soup without talking.
    When
they’d washed up, she picked up a flashlight and said, “I guess I’ll find
something to read. Or something.”
    David
nodded. “I’m going to check outside and make sure everything’s okay with the
house.”
    It
was pitch black outside and sounded awful, but she didn’t object. He was a
grown man. If he wanted to go outside in this weather and be idiotic, then he
was allowed to do so.
    She
went to the bathroom and then decided she might as well get ready for bed. She
changed into a pair of fitted fleece pajamas—the warmest she had—and pulled the
sweatshirt on over them. She found a book, poured herself another glass of
wine, and got the ice pack for her ankle. She was stretched out on the big
couch in front of the fire when David came back in.
    Ice
was falling off him in little clicks as he moved.
    “How
is everything?”
    “Looks
okay. You’ve lost a few branches but none of the trees. And the roof is holding
up well.”
    “Good.”
    Since
she’d brought the bottle and his empty glass into the living room, he poured
himself the last of the bottle.
    She
was trying to occupy herself with her book, but she couldn’t help but look over
at him.
    He
was as scrumptiously masculine as always, his five-o’clock shadow even darker
and his skin flushed slightly from the wind and cold. But he also looked uncomfortable
in his boots and jeans.
    “You
can check Brad’s old room for something to change into for the night, if you want.
He’s still got tons of sweats and stuff up there. You might find something that
fits. You might as well be comfortable.”
    He
hesitated slightly. Then nodded.
    She
was doing no better about focusing on the book when he returned about ten
minutes later.
    He
wore an old pair of black sweats—just slightly too short—and a gray sweatshirt
that matched the one she was wearing—also from their high school football team
but with a different year’s logo.
    “Don’t
laugh,” he said, catching her scrutiny. “I didn’t realize Brad was so short.”
    She
did laugh, finding the little twitch at the corner of his mouth irresistible.
“Don’t tell him that or you’ll hurt his poor feelings.”
    Brad
wasn’t particularly short, four inches taller than she was, but he