Read Snowed In for Free Online

how it worked here?
    I stayed with my ear pressed to the door until I heard him walk off, down the stairs. At least, it sounded like he was going down to the second floor, but everything echoed around here. What if he was, in fact, on his way up to my room?
    I wish I’d told him that his “looking around” ended on the third floor. Although based on my behavior, he probably figured that out.
    I pressed my back to the door and slid to the floor.
    I had overreacted. Totally. He’d scared me. But not in the ax murderer kind of way.
    I’d never before felt such an . . . attraction to a guy. Sure, Chase was hot and he was fun and I was looking forward to our date. But I wasn’t worried about what he thought of me. When I met him, 47
    my heart hadn’t pounded so hard that I thought I’d crack a rib. I hadn’t been nervous.
    That’s what I’d been in the hallway just then.
    Nervous. I’d never been so unsettled around a guy.
    So why this one?
    It didn’t make sense. I’d always been cool around guys.
    It didn’t help matters that when I finally got to my feet and looked in the mirror, I was reminded of my unflattering appearance. I’d given Josh Wynter the worst impression of me in every way imaginable.
    Why did I feel such overwhelming disappointment?
    When I got back to my bedroom, I looked out the window. No truck out in the street. I’d almost decided that meant that our visitors were gone . . .
    before I remembered that they wouldn’t have a truck. So how would they haul their carpentry materials?
    But more important, how would I know when they’d left? I wouldn’t hear a vehicle revving up its engine before being driven away. How would I ever hear people arrive or leave?
    Obviously the doorbell chime couldn’t be heard up here.
    Sometime later, I dressed in my jeans and a 48
    bulky cable-knit sweater. I was still wearing my fuzzy slippers as I made my way cautiously downstairs, checking for the Wynter guy, really hoping that I wasn’t going to run into him.
    I made it safely to the first floor without running into anyone. I glanced into the library and the parlor—all clear.
    I needed my coffee—badly. So I had to risk a visit to the kitchen, where I might indeed find people.
    But I didn’t. I found only Mom, and while she’s technically a person, she’s one I know.
    She was standing in front of the window, gazing out at the wintery backyard, one of her precious china cups in her hand. She glanced over her shoulder. “Coffee’s ready.”
    “Great!”
    I grabbed my favorite mug. It was blue and huge, twice the size of a normal mug, and said on the side, “Still not enough.” Tara had given it to me.
    I filled it to the brim, added a little milk, stirred in some sugar, and practically inhaled my first sip, relishing the flavor. Then I moved to the window, pressed my hip against the counter, and looked outside.
    “Uh, Mom, do you think in the future, you 49
    could let me know when we’re going to have company in the morning?” I asked.
    She finally looked at me then. Really looked at me. “Was there a problem?”
    “Only running into someone I didn’t know before I was ready to be presented to the world.” She smiled wryly. “Sorry. Mr. Wynter finished up a project earlier than expected, so he had time this morning to drop by to discuss some of the remodeling I want done. They’re going to start tomorrow.”
    “They?” My stomach knotted up.
    “He and his son.” She looked back out the window. “I can’t believe how pristine the snow is.” She wanted to talk snow and I wanted to talk . . .
    “So what do you know about his son?” Mom shook her head. “Not a lot. His name is Josh. He goes to school here.”
    Great. That was so not what I wanted to hear.
    “Do you know what grade he’s in?”
    “No, we didn’t really discuss personal things.” She studied me. “Are you sure everything is all right?”
    “Yeah. Sure.”
    “He seemed nice.”
    “He was. I