Snowed In

by Tricia Wentworth

  “Unfortunately, ankle sprains can take a while to start to feel better. But fortunately, I know from experience the first day is usually the worst. And we can call my sister if it doesn’t get better or the swelling gets bad. She’ll know what to do.”

  The first day? Thank goodness. It was still so stiff. She’d been babying it and icing regularly along with elevating it, but it still hurt. So much so she rarely wanted to be on it.

  “What’s that smell?” he asked, looking around.

  Oh yeah. That. It wasn’t possible for her to be cooped up all day and ignore the pull of that double oven and magnificent kitchen. She’d caved. And it was everything she’d thought it be and more. That kitchen was a thing of beauty. “I made a batch of cookies. I hope you don’t mind? I also threw a few things together for a casserole for dinner.”

  He smiled. “Supper, you mean?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I said. Dinner.”

  He laughed. She could tell he was enjoying their language differences too much. Next he’d be drilling her on pop versus soda. Then she’d be tempted to call him a Yankee.

  While he grabbed a shower, she took the casserole out of the oven and set the table. She had already made up her mind while making dinner that she was just going to tell him the truth tonight. She was going to tell him why they sent her. He had been nothing but kind and upfront with her, so he deserved the same back. She didn’t want to play games with him. She didn’t want to have ulterior motives. If this was anyone but Heartbreak Harper, that’s what she’d do. So she had to extend him the same courtesy, reputation be darned. Having been misled and burned in her own life, she refused to do that to someone else. Even Heartbreak Harper. Her insecurities with her past were not going to make her stoop to that level.

  She was just biting into her first perfectly baked cookie for dessert when she noticed Beckett standing in the doorway with tousled wet hair. He was looking at her with his head cocked to the side, as if trying to figure out what was up. It disturbed her that he could read her so easily already. Then again, he was Heartbreak Harper, so he was probably used to picking up on when women were upset. He’d probably seen more than his fair share of that.

  “What’s on your mind, Jordyn?” He entered the kitchen and picked up a cookie before sitting across from her.

  She sighed and mentally waved the white flag of surrender. “Look. I want to be honest with you. You’ve been nothing but kind since being stuck with me through this storm, and I feel like I’ve been a bit deceitful.”

  He kept chewing his cookie, waiting for what she was about to say, looking cool and calm. She felt a twinge of guilt that he was unaware of the blow she was about to deliver.

  Oh boy. Here she went. It was now or never. If she was going to tell him, it should be now. If she waited until the snow stopped, he’d be mad. And she needed to cultivate this . . . friendship . . . snowship . . . whatever . . . if she was going to have a shot at convincing him to do the stupid commercial.

  Before she chickened out, she blurted out, “The reason they sent me and not Trip wasn’t to shadow you; it’s because I’m here to try to get you to do the Super Bowl commercial.”

  He swallowed hard and moved to sit back against his chair while crossing his arms, which brought attention to how tense his neck was, a vein bulging on one side. Uh-oh. He was mad.

  “I see.”

  She sighed again. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to know the real reason my boss sent me. I wanted to be completely truthful.”

  His demeanor was definitely cool. Though he was still looking at her in the eyes, he was now almost squinting at her in accusation, and his dimple was nowhere to be found. “And why exactly did he pick you? Why not just send Trip for the same reason? Someone I already know.”

  She looked into his blue eyes, caught red-handed. Dang it. She didn’t want to get this deep into the truth with him. She wanted to tell him the real reason she was there, but not the real reason why Walt sent her specifically. But now they were there, so she might as well wade on out into the deep water. “Honestly? Because he knew I’m single and a woman and you’re Heartbreak Harper.”

  Now he really was mad. He looked at her, and she could plainly see the anger he was trying to fight down and conceal. It was in his eyes, his tightened neck muscles, the way he held his jaw. Gone was the carefree man she had spent the last day with. He stood up and took a drink of his coffee. “So, tell me. How far were you willing to go to get the Super Bowl commercial? What exactly were you planning? And was your sob story all an act?”

  “No! Beckett, no. I just wanted you to know,” she offered firmly.

  He turned to leave the room, shoulders tight. “Well, now I know.”

  Ugh. That could’ve gone better. She did the dishes and checked her email before retiring to bed early. It was still snowing and blowing so hard it was almost whining outside. With no escape, she guessed Beckett was going to have to get over this spat eventually.

  ****

  Seriously?

  He was ticked. He had to hand it to Walt; he must want him for the Super Bowl commercial pretty damn bad. They weren’t taking no for an answer. They saw a weakness and attacked it, exploiting it fully. At least they were assertive.

  He was still bothered though. He went downstairs in the basement to his gym and jogged a few miles, then did some weightlifting. Nothing too extreme, just trying to work off some steam. All things that were approved by his sister as workouts he could do with his back injury, which was good because he needed an outlet for his frustrations. If he didn’t get this negative energy out somehow, he’d probably be up a while thinking about it. And he preferred not to.

  Because more than he was ticked at Walt and Jordyn and how stupid it all was, he was trying hard to ignore the guilt he felt that he hadn’t had to deal with for a while. If he didn’t have such a negative reputation, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy to manipulate him like that. So a huge part of this crapshow was on him.

  Jordyn wasn’t the first woman salesperson sent to his doorstep, and he highly doubted she’d be the last. Unfortunately, that was all his fault. For a time, he went through women like you go through clothes, a different one for each different event. At the time he had thought nothing of it. It’s not like he was the only pro player that ever did it. It’s funny how long a reputation like that followed you though.

  He hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long while, not that the media would ever admit that. Heartbreak Harper was probably going to be etched on his damn grave, so he may as well get used to it. He was not doing commercials either. He had dropped off the face of the earth on purpose. He could have done a bunch of endorsement deals before now, but he chose not to. And this offer wasn’t going to be any different.

  Except there was Jordyn. He was ticked that what had felt like the first honest and genuine connection he had had with a woman in a long time ended up being just someone else trying to manipulate him or use his name.

  Women. They were all the same. He should’ve more than learned his freaking lesson by now.

  How about That?

  CHAPTER 5

  She got up on Monday morning not long after he did and got to work in the kitchen. Since she loved baking, making them a batch of warm homemade cinnamon rolls seemed like the least she could do.

  While the bread was rising, she threw a thawing chicken he had in the fridge in the oven for homemade chicken noodle soup. Then she sat down and sent a snippy email in which she told Walt she was coming back as soon as the snow stopped, Super Bowl commercial be damned. She even added a line about Walt being above this sort of tactic and that the company didn’t need to stoop to this level.

  Her ankle still really, really hurt, but she was trying to be as helpful as possible. For a few hours in the night last night, the wind stopped blowing and the snow slowed down. She thought maybe the storm was over and she would maybe even be able to leave this morning. D
awn found the storm back in all her hateful glory though, and the blizzard raged and blew as much as she ever had. Anarchy reestablished.

  But, after Beckett had been nothing but kind to her—well, except for a little goading here and there—she felt she did the right thing in telling him the truth yesterday. And now that she told him the truth, they could have some honest conversations about why he was so against doing the Super Bowl commercial.

  Truth be told, she couldn’t care less about the commercial. AgGroSo was doing just fine without it. This was marketing’s love child, not hers. She was more concerned with making sure the data analysis was spot on. Speaking of which, she had a few extra things she could go over today. That way she stayed out of Beckett’s hair.

  When he came inside, the cinnamon rolls were just getting out of the oven.

  “What’s this?” he snapped from the doorway.

  Okay, so he was apparently still mad. She didn’t figure him for someone that harbored animosity. He was so carefree and smiled so much. He was kind of acting like a brat about the whole thing.

  She shrugged. “My version of a peace offering.”

  He blinked a few times, showing no emotion, looking at her with his sharp blue eyes. “Okay.”

  She smiled hesitantly. “Okay, like you’re over it?”

  He cocked his head to better glare at her. “Okay, like I’ll eat a cinnamon roll.”

  “Harper, I’m sorry—” She didn’t get to finish.

  “Mack,” he interrupted her, using her last name like she used his. He said it with deep sarcasm though. She didn’t like it at all. “I don’t want to hear it. What part is this in your ploy? Step one, you get snowed in with me. Step two, you cook for me. What’s next? And how far exactly were you willing to go?”

  With that, he stormed down the hallway and slammed the door to his room.

  She bit down on her lip. He was more upset than she originally thought.

  ****

  He didn’t know why he was still so angry. The workout last night hadn’t helped. Maybe it was because he thought he finally found someone who understood him, and it all turned out to be fake. That green-eyed, brown-haired beauty was having more of an effect on him than he’d like. And he was stuck with her. There was no escape.

  And when it came down to it, she’d disappointed him. He thought she was different. He was used to the jersey chasers, the models, the actresses. With them they were obviously not discreet about wanting to use him for his name. He knew it going in. But with Jordyn, he was intrigued. Her story got to him. But she didn’t want a thing to do with him, other than the commercial, of course. He had wanted to get to know her, to be friends in the very least, but she was apparently not interested in that at all. And he was disappointed in her for it—and disappointed in himself for even caring to begin with.

  So he was hiding. Like they were in junior high, he was hiding and avoiding her. City women were all the same, he reminded himself. This right here was exactly why he took a hiatus from women.

  He turned on the local TV channel in his master bedroom and lay down. He was not getting involved. He was not.

  ****

  She had left the gooey cinnamon rolls on the counter and finished getting the soup ready to go. All it needed was to be heated up on the stove. Then she excused herself to her room so Beckett would quit hiding from her. It was his house after all. At least Mable seemed to like her. She didn’t have any pets of her own, but she didn’t mind holing up in the guest room with Mable.

  She didn’t know how to make things better with Harper. They barely knew one another; she didn’t know why it was such a big deal. So she didn’t show up here for what he thought. Knowing his reputation, she thought maybe he should have known better.

  She’d been honest and that was that. Now she was waiting out both the wrath of the storm and the wrath of Beckett Harper. Which one was going to let up first, she had no idea.

  ****

  He had successfully avoided her all day. He was acting like a brat, and he knew it. Fortunately for him, the storm still raging afforded him plenty to do outside. The snow had let up a bit, but the wind had not, and they were only about halfway through this damn storm. When he finally made it back inside after dark that night, he helped himself to more cinnamon rolls and soup.

  Damn, the woman could cook though.

  He noticed the light on in the guest room, where she had been hiding out. He supposed he should apologize for being so angry with her and get on with it, but he was still just pissed. With time to stew and think about it, he realized this wasn’t her idea. Remembering her hostile tendencies when she arrived, he realized she was probably just as annoyed with this whole situation as he was. She probably even felt just as used as he did.

  Still. As alluring as she was, he was not doing a Super Bowl commercial. Heartbreak Harper was not going to use his face to get more publicity. Even if for a good cause. He wanted out of the spotlight. Now and forever. It was hard enough living in a place where everyone worshipped him. He didn’t need to add to that.

  And now he was even referring to himself in the third person. Great.

  So he decided to wait until morning. When he was good and over it. Hopefully.

  ****

  On Tuesday morning, she had gotten up and made them some homemade banana muffins while he was out doing the morning chores. She was back in the guest room for the rest of the morning when she heard Beckett come back in the door, probably wanting a fresh muffin and the warm coffee she had been sure to start for him.

  Was she sucking up? Yep. Was it working? Only time would tell.

  And since when was she referring to him as Beckett in her head? She needed to get a grip. She had done nothing wrong and had been completely honest with him. Something she thought he’d appreciate, given their circumstances and the long hours they were forced to spend together while snowed in. Apparently not. Oh well, it would be a little awkward, but she could survive being locked up in the guest room with Mable. She’d try her best to stay out of the way.

  She finished her email to Walt with another snide remark to him about the situation he had put her in. She had just finished her morning work and was about to start up a movie on her laptop when the lights in the bathroom blinked.

  She found that odd, but it had to be the wind, right? The weather app on her phone had told her there was a real feel of negative twenty-seven degrees outside because of that dang wind. Even with the heater running, when you walked by the windows you could feel the cold trying to ensnare you. She was not acclimated to this kind of cold. Not even a little. This kind of cold was both brutal and shocking.

  Mable got cozied up on her feet, as if sensing she was cold. Not even ten minutes into the movie, the lights went completely out.

  Well . . . she guessed Beckett would be forced to talk to her now.

  The movie kept playing on the charged battery, and she tried to take a few minutes to not panic as she considered how long it would take for the house to get colder without heat. Losing electricity. That was bad . . . right?? She felt totally out of her element up here in Nebraska on the farm. She knew small-town life. She did not know this whole cold weather and harsh winter concept. It was new, and it was terrifying. Mother nature was a beast. A beast that got PMS sometimes even hourly. She wasn’t sure she could ever live somewhere like this, where the winters were so evil. She whined enough when it dropped to the forties in Texas. This was on a whole other level. This was Nebraska, not Alaska. So what the hell was going on?

  Not wanting to delay the inevitable and wanting to know how they’d handle the outage, she tiptoed out of the guest room and into the living room, where Beckett was starting a fire in the fireplace with huge wood chunks.

  “I take it you noticed the power is out?” he said without turning.

  “Sure did,” she answered hesitantly. She tried to ignore the tightness across the shoulders of his long-sleeved T-shirt while he lugged some bigger logs into the fire. “I
s there anything I can do?”

  He didn’t turn around, but she could have sworn she felt him smirking at her. “For starters, you and Mable can stop hiding in the guest room and make yourselves warmer out here in front of the fire.”

  She tilted her head to the side and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I meant cook something or help you do something with the electricity being out. And I wasn’t hiding—I was trying to give you space until you were done being mad. You know, since you are stuck with me and all.”

  He spun around, still kneeling beside the now crackling fire, his blue eyes drilling into hers. “I’m not gonna lie. I’m still a little pissed, Jordyn.” He sighed. “But, I also realize it isn’t totally your fault.”

  Seriously? He was being a baby. She closed her eyes a moment to stop from rolling her eyes or losing her temper.

  He must have caught on to her aggravation. “What is it, Houston? Don’t hold back on me now.”

  She opened her eyes with an eye-roll, if that were even possible. “It only took you two days to get halfway over it?”

  He shrugged. “I was hurt. And annoyed.”

  She tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. The way he always stared her in the eyes was unnerving. “Are you always this difficult?”

  He shrugged for a response, but that darned smirk and dimple were back.

  “Well, while we are on the topic, will you just tell me if you will or will not do the stupid commercial and why? I’ll tell Walt, so we can never talk about it again. It was his idea to send me.”