by Lisa Jackson
“Probably. But I could cut enough so a vehicle could at least get through, that is, if the road is even passable.”
She was beginning to suspect that it was a lost cause. At the rate the snow was coming down they were looking at a full-blown blizzard. “I don’t think you should be out in this.” Especially with a chainsaw.
“Let’s go back to the house and see if cell reception is better there,” he said.
It took them twice as long to return, the visibility was so bad. They slogged through the snow to the shed and Boden wheeled the generator outside, moved it under the roof’s overhang, plugged it into the transfer switch, and flicked the circuit breakers. It was clear he knew what he was doing, but when he pulled the cord the generator wouldn’t start.
“Dirty fuel,” he muttered to himself, and looked up at Rachel. “People always forget to clean the engine when the lights come back on.”
He messed with it for a while but couldn’t get so much as a hum from the motor. “You should go in the house. No need for us both to freeze our tails off.”
She didn’t know that the house would be any warmer than the garage with the heat off, but she felt silly standing there, looking over his shoulder with nothing to do. “I’ll try to call Kristi and let her know what’s going on here.”
Boden gave a slight nod, distracted while he fidgeted with the generator. She watched him for a few seconds, admiring the way his jeans molded to his fine backside as he hunkered over the machine, deep in concentration. A few sexy thoughts flitted through her head and she quickly willed them away. She and Boden were stuck in a snowstorm for goodness’ sake. There were more pressing things to think about than visualizing what Boden would look like naked.
She really needed to start dating again. Between the bakery and catering, she’d let her social life fall by the wayside. And when she got the Old Watermill House, her workload would double. But she was thirty-six and would like to have a man in her life while there was still time to have children. Just not Boden Farmer. He was enticing to be sure, but completely wrong for her, starting with the fact that they were both vying for the same dream.
And only one of them could win.
She passed through the mudroom and, despite the power outage, could still see well enough to find her way to the kitchen. Unfortunately, there still weren’t any bars on her cell. Even so, she tried several times to call out, to no avail, and pondered the wisdom of turning it off to preserve the battery. In the end, she decided to leave it on in case Kristi called and managed to get through. For the next thirty minutes, she busied herself cleaning up from their coffee break. It was still warm enough to take off her outerwear, but without heat it wouldn’t take long before a house this size got drafty.
“I can’t get it to work.” Boden came in, frustration written all over his face. “Any luck getting a call out?”
“Nope. I’ve got zero reception.”
“What about a text?”
“If I can’t make a call, I can’t text, Boden.” There he went second-guessing her. It reminded her of their other catering assignments where he was always offering his unsolicited opinions about everything, including how she should do the cake service to coincide with the toasts, which of course was his purview.
“Sometimes you can,” he said, ignoring her peevishness and trying on his own phone. “See.” He held up his cell to show her that a text to Kristi had indeed been sent.
“Let’s wait to see if it actually gets delivered.”
He shook his head. “Did they teach you negativity in law school?”
It was ridiculous to fight with him at a time like this, but she couldn’t help it and fired back, “Nope, just plain old common sense.”
He let out a huff of breath and shrugged out of his jacket. “Is there any prep we can do in the dark?”
She’d give him credit for taking the high road and offering to help. Though that’s how it had started with Jeremy.
“Not really.” She’d already organized her serving pieces. Everything else required the stove, the mixer, the food processor, electricity. “You think this wedding is even going to happen?”
“There you go being negative again.” He grinned and glanced out the window. “But, yeah, this time I think there’s cause to worry.”
Boden checked his phone and held it up. “See. Delivered.”
“No response from Kristi, though.” She probably couldn’t get through, which meant they were screwed.
“Nope.” He looked outside again. “It’s really coming down. At this point I wouldn’t drive in this unless I had to.”
“I guess we’re stuck.”
He sank into one of the breakfast room chairs. “Until someone deals with the tree we are.” He gazed around the room. “I can think of worse places to be stuck.”
“I bet you can think of better people to be stuck with, though,” she said, going for a little levity.
“Not really.” He gave her a slow once-over that should’ve been too brazen, bordering on predatory, but it wasn’t. She felt perfectly safe with Boden. “When that stick comes out, you’re not half-bad. You made me eggs, after all.”
She did not have a stick up her ass but refused to take the bait.
“I’m sure lots of women have made you breakfast.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized how they sounded. She’d meant women like his mother.
He didn’t respond, just continued looking at her. “What’s your deal, anyway? How come you’re not seeing anyone?”
She took one of the other chairs, tired of standing. “What makes you think I’m not?”
“Just a hunch.” Again, with the grin. It was meant either to be teasing or to get under her skin. Rachel hadn’t decided yet. “Anyone I know?”
“No.” She wanted to make up something—a fictional Prince Charming, even though she knew damned well they didn’t exist—but had never been good at lying. “I don’t have time to date.”
He surprised her by nodding, instead of flashing another one of those smug smiles. “Yep, same here.”
The rumors were that he dated his female staff, another reason he was completely unsuitable. She had strong feelings about bosses who dated their subordinates, having dealt with plenty of those kinds of cases as an attorney. The story was often the same. Someone in a position of authority taking advantage of someone who was just trying to hold on to a job.
“A good reason not to open a second bar and brewery, right?” Her lips curved up. She could give as good as she got. Oftentimes, even better.
“Same could be said for a second bakery. Why do you need all that space, anyway?”
There was no sense in keeping it a secret any longer. They’d both made their pitches to the city. Now it was up to the council. “Restaurant.”
He leaned his chair back on two legs, a move that had always annoyed her.
“A restaurant, huh? You mean like Tart Me Up?”
He was digging for information, but the holidays had put her in a generous mood. “Nope. Full service. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
The look on his face was like a gift that kept on giving. First, surprise. Then, oh shit. “Good for you. We could use more full-service restaurants in Glory Junction. You planning to serve alcohol?”
“What would a restaurant be without drinks?” She threw up her hands. What she wasn’t planning to do was make alcohol her primary focus, which she was hoping would give her an edge over Boden in the city’s eyes.
“You have a liquor license?”
“Not yet, but I will.” He knew as well as she did that she needed the space first. Boden already had one because he owned a bar.
“They’re not easy to get, you know?”
“I’m not too worried about it,” she said with obnoxious nonchalance. It was fun poking at him.
“I suppose you’ll use your bad-ass lawyer skills to get one.” He smirked. Her being a lawyer seemed to touch a nerve with him. How many times had he brought it up
in the last couple of days?
“It sure won’t hurt.” It wouldn’t help, either, but why not rub it in?
“What did the city think of your restaurant proposal?” he asked.
“They loved it. What about your brewery?”
“Who doesn’t like scads of money—and the good it’ll do for this town?” He gave her a challenging look, like he’d already won.
“Money is good. Drunken driving, not so much.” From the way he avoided eye contact, Rachel knew she’d one-upped him. Her proposal probably wouldn’t generate as much revenue for the city as his, but bars and liquor stores were sticking points in small towns.
“I thought you were serving alcohol at your restaurant?”
She’d give him credit for being pugnacious. “A glass of wine with a nice dinner isn’t the same thing as a bar.”
“I serve food.”
She started to argue, but he stopped her. “Enough. We’ll see what the city decides. May the best ma—person win.”
It killed her that he was getting the last word, but she didn’t want to appear petty or lawyerish. “Anything from Kristi?”
He glanced down at his phone and shook his head. “It’s nearly noon. I’d like to hear the news and see if the roads are passable. What do you say we get in my truck and turn on the radio?”
“I think it’s a good idea.” She put on her jacket and zipped it to her chin.
But even that wasn’t enough to keep out the cold. It lashed through her clothes like a whip, stinging her skin. Boden opened his truck doors and they scooted in. It took two tries to get the engine started, and a few minutes later they had heat. Boden played with the radio dial until he found a local news station out of Sacramento. They listened while the newscaster read a story about Christmas festivities in the state’s capital.
“They do weather every fifteen minutes,” Boden said.
“My parents said it was sunny where they are.” Unlike the rest of the state, the Sierra Nevada had some of the snowiest weather in the country. In Southern California, people were probably going to the beach. “How about where your mom lives?”
“Dunno, since I don’t know where she lives.”
For a beat she was stunned silent. “The two of you don’t keep in touch?”
“Nope. Desiree’s got her own thing going.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be; there’s nothing to be sorry about.”
Before she could respond the forecaster announced that Donner Pass and a number of other roads had been closed due to the storm and that most of Nevada County was experiencing a power outage and downed phone lines. The utility companies were hoping to have everything up and running by nightfall. The newscaster signed off with an inane remark about Santa not getting lost in the dark.
“Doesn’t sound too promising for the bride and groom.” Boden shut off the engine. “With all those roads shut down, no one will show to get rid of the tree. Regardless, I don’t see a hundred guests getting up the mountain.”
She had to agree with him. “What do we do?”
“Nothing we can do but hang tight until the weather dies down. I’ll find where they keep the firewood. Go back in the house and try to stay warm.”
“I’ll help.” With the two of them, they could haul in a good load twice as fast. Even with their ski jackets, neither of them was dressed to endure this weather for too long.
He started to argue but seemed to think better of it. Between the wind and the snow, they could barely see where they were going. Boden grabbed her hand and led her around the side of the house, using the brown shingle siding as a guide. Sure enough they found a woodshed a few yards away. Boden grabbed a pair of woolen gloves from his pockets and loaded them both with logs. With them encumbered by the wind and snow, the simple chore took twice as long. Together, they trudged through the snow to the back door through which they carried the wood to the living room.
“Holy hell, it’s cold out there.”
Rachel was too busy shivering to comment.
“I’ll get a fire going. In the meantime, why don’t you find a blanket or something that’ll keep us warm until we have a nice blaze?”
She went in search of a couple of quilts, feeling a little weird about helping herself to the Canadells’ things. It was silly, she knew. No one would want them to freeze. In a linen closet in the south wing of the house, she found a down comforter and a wool afghan. If the power came back on, she’d fold them up and put them away.
By the time she got to the great room, Boden had already started the fire. It wasn’t much yet, so she stood as close as she could to the hearth, trying to get dry.
“I bet you could find a robe or something to change into,” Boden said as he removed his jacket and laid it on the floor near the fireplace.
“I’m okay.” No way was she getting naked with Boden in the house.
He took her in from head to toe. “It’s up to you. But you’re gonna get sick in those wet clothes.”
She wanted to point out that his were just as wet but refrained. Knowing Boden, he’d drop trou right in front of her to prove a point. Or to embarrass her. Admittedly, she was curious whether he was a boxers or briefs guy. The thought of him going commando under his Levis flashed in her head and she immediately shut it down.
“You already look a little flushed,” he said.
If you only knew. “It’s the fire.” She wrapped herself in one of the blankets and moved to the couch, a leather sectional with piles of Navajo pillows that must’ve cost a fortune. The Canadells had planned to close the room off for the wedding reception, using an enormous screened porch on the side of the house, instead. That room also had a fireplace and views of a pond and the surrounding Sierra mountains. It would’ve been the most romantic party setting she’d ever catered, but with less than five hours until show time there was little hope of pulling it off. Not as long as the storm persisted, and even then, she didn’t know whether the roads could be cleared in time.
“Poor Tara. Her perfect wedding, ruined by Mother Nature.”
Boden shrugged. “It’ll be a story they can tell their grandkids. Besides, people focus too much on the pomp and not enough on the marriage.”
“That’s awfully cynical, don’t you think? The ceremony . . . the party . . . it’s a celebration of a new life together. It’s about sharing that new beginning with loved ones.”
“You work for Hallmark now?”
“Wow, someone must’ve done a number on you.”
He laughed. “Nope, I’m just a realist. You know how many brawls start in Old Glory because one half of a couple finds out the other one is stepping out on him or her? Too many to count.”
“Does that mean you don’t believe in love?”
“I’m not saying that. All I’m saying is I don’t believe in all the bullshit that goes with it.” He sank into the seat next to her. “Give me some of that blanket.”
Before she could toss him the afghan, he moved closer and tugged half of her comforter across his lap. With the fire crackling it was a cozy tableau. That was until an ear-piercing chirp rent the stillness.
CHAPTER 6
“What the hell is that?” Boden jumped to his feet.
The noise continued to sound on and off like a drill and it took him until the initial shock wore off to realize it was a smoke alarm. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”
“Somewhere up there.” Rachel pointed at the rafters.
The ceilings were at least twenty feet high. No way was he getting up there without a very tall ladder.
“Should we worry that it’s a fire?” she asked.
“I think it’s from the smoke.” The Canadells probably hadn’t cleaned their flue in a while.
Because it was a vacation home, he was guessing the fireplace rarely got used. “Let’s crack a couple of windows.”
It wasn’t the best way to conserve heat, but it was better than listening to the alarm. He opened one of
the French doors while Rachel waved her hands in the air, trying to diffuse the smoke. He started to laugh because she looked like a bird flapping its wings.
She shot him a death glare. “You have a better idea?”
Not really. “Open more windows, and a fan would be good. Did you see one while hunting up the blankets?”
“No, but it wasn’t as if I was keeping my eye out for one. And it’s not like it would work, anyway.”
Right, no electricity. “Let me see what I can find.” He grabbed his jacket off the floor and searched the pocket for one of the flashlights they’d gotten from the shed. “In the meantime, open some of these windows.”
“We’re going to freeze.”
“We could go upstairs and get under the covers in one of the bedrooms.” The idea appealed to him more than he wanted to admit. It also made him think of every cheesy snowed-in movie he’d ever seen.
Rachel rolled her eyes and covered her ears. “Go find something to make it stop.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?” Instead of waiting for her comeback, he took off in search of anything that would help scatter the smoke.
He finally found a telescoping rod to manually open the skylights. The alarm chirped incessantly, despite their efforts to air out the place. But perhaps opening the transoms would help dissipate the smoke faster. It was worth trying.
“Whoa, it’s cold.” And it was about to get colder.
“Could you hear the alarm upstairs?”
“Why? You reconsidering my idea to get in bed together?”
She shook her head dismissively. Rachel Johnson didn’t have much of a sense of humor.
“You can probably hear the goddamn alarm in China.” He used the rod to open two of the skylights just enough to let some of the smoke out. “This is one hell of a storm. From upstairs, you can see all the way to the main road, except you can’t because it’s covered in snow. No one is getting in or out of here for a while.”
“I’m supposed to go to my folks’ tomorrow.” She pulled the blanket around herself. “They’ll worry when I don’t show up.”
“You try your phone again?”
She let out a breath. “Nothing.”