A Little Bit of Sugar (Snowed In & Snuggled Up #1)

by Erin Quinn

  But he was worried, too. Avalanches were serious business and even though Avalanche Road didn’t get much traffic, the risk of vehicles—or even skiers or other snowmobilers—getting caught in the landslide was high. He just prayed the road had been deserted at the time all those tons of snow had come crashing down.

  His gut clenched thinking of Gaby out here. And what if the avalanche had happened while Madison was on her way up? Fear like he’d never known filled him at the thought.

  In minutes, they were on the move again, reaching the road and parking beside Hamilton’s abandoned snowmobile. JT shut off the engine, and he and Madison climbed off.

  A huge mass of snow obstructed the road and just before it, several cars were pulled over to the side. The avalanche had just missed them.

  “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll see if anyone needs help?” he asked, eyeing her worriedly.

  “I’m fine. Come on. Let’s find Gaby.”

  They heard Hamilton shouting Gaby’s name as he moved up the slippery road. And then, softly, miraculously, “Hamilton! I’m okay. Help me get out of here.”

  Gaby’s car was the last one in the line—the nose of it covered by the massive landslide of snow. Six feet more, and it would have been buried completely. JT and Madison reached the car just as Hamilton helped Gaby out.

  “Oh my God,” Madison said, sagging against JT. “She was so close to it. She could have been . . . .”

  “But she wasn’t. Look. She’s fine.”

  Passengers from the other cars were getting out, shaken and scared, but otherwise unharmed. Each of them claimed a voice had whispered, slow down, a moment before their cars had stalled out.

  JT didn’t need anyone to tell him who the guardian angel had been. He knew.

  Hamilton helped Gaby get to Ciara’s Rubicon, where Ciara and Madison took over, covering her in blankets, making sure she and the baby were fine.

  JT joined his brothers, using pickaxes and shovels to help get Gaby’s car free so Hamilton could take her back to the cabin. Then they started on the other cars until, one by one, they’d dug the vehicles out. It would take more than a couple guys with hand tools to clear the road, though. Fortunately, there was equipment in town that could make short order of the blockage. Still, JT and Scout worked around it, searching for signs of life in case someone had been swept away by the landslide of snow.

  The two brothers worked like a team. The snow kept coming, building in power, but they didn’t quit until they’d reassured themselves that they’d done everything they possibly could. By then, JT had begun to suspect that a miracle had occurred on Avalanche Road that day. No one appeared to be hurt.

  Finally, when all the cars were free, Scout and Ciara climbed into the Rubicon.

  “Are you okay to ride back with me?” JT asked Madison. “If you’re sore, I’m sure Scout and Ciara would give you a lift.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll go with you . . . as long as you promise there’s a hot shower waiting for me when we get there.”

  JT hoped it would be one he could share, but now that the crisis was over, Madison was thinking again. He could see it in her eyes, in the set of her jaw.

  There was a lot more talking needed before they could move on. But after today, after seeing her prone on the ground and fearing the worst, JT was ready for that conversation. No holding back this time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  JT forced himself to stay downstairs while Madison took her shower. He didn’t trust himself anywhere near her, not when he could picture how she must look beneath the spray, skin warmed and slippery, brown eyes closed and head back, her hair sleek as it streamed down her back.

  He gave himself a mental shake. He should be rehearsing what he planned to say, not driving himself nuts thinking about touching her. If he didn’t do this right, he might never have the chance to touch her again.

  And that would be a tragedy he might not survive.

  You can do it, son.

  “Thanks, Gramps,” he muttered under his breath.

  When he’d seen Madison sprawled on the snow, snowmobile crashed, her body so still but for her cranberry scarf whipping in the wind, his heart had nearly stopped. If he’d doubted his feelings for her, that moment had made them crystal clear.

  Fortunately, no one had been injured today. Gaby was in bed resting, and Hamilton was in the kitchen where he had every pot and pan bubbling, simmering or popping. Moof was curled up under the table, eyes watchful for morsels that might need cleaning up. Scout was in the kitchen, too, loading up a tray with food and a bottle of wine.

  JT caught his eye and smiled.

  “You want a tray, too?” Hamilton asked.

  JT shook his head. He had something else in mind. Something brave.

  He hoped.

  “I love you guys,” he said to his brothers. Surprised, they both looked at him.

  “Backatcha, bro,” Scout said, pausing to grin and give him a hug. He turned to Hamilton and said, “You, too, man,” and gave him a quick hug as well before hefting his tray and heading for the stairs and Ciara, who was no doubt waiting for him.

  Hamilton wiped his hands and faced JT.

  “JT,” he began. “I’m sorr—”

  JT held up his hand, stopping him. “You did what you felt was right, Hamilton. I’m sorry I had to tell you about Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. But I’m not sorry you brought us here. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and—God and Gramps willing—the roads will be open. Mom and Henry will make it up and we will have the best family Thanksgiving ever. You don’t owe me an apology. I owe you a thanks.”

  Hamilton gave him a cocky grin. “Just wait until you taste my turkey. It’s organic and I—”

  JT pulled his baby brother into a bear hug, silencing him.

  “You’re going to be a great dad, Hamilton.”

  Hamilton stilled for just a moment, and then bear-hugged him back. After they pulled away, he asked, “You going to work things out with Madison?”

  “Or die trying, brother.”

  They laughed and Hamilton went back to chopping something JT wasn’t sure he could identify. It didn’t matter. As Madison had said, it wasn’t about the food. It was about the relationships.

  She’d been right about that. She’d been right about everything. He’d been in love her since the first moment he’d met her. He didn’t need to get to know her all over again. She might have grown more beautiful, changed her hair, maybe she even smiled differently now. But she was the same person, at the core.

  And yes, if he had to pick her out of a line up just by that, he could do it.

  He poured them both a cup of coffee, added some Irish whisky, brown sugar and whipped cream, and hooked the handles with his fingers so he could carry them with one hand. With the other, he scooped up the box of chocolate donuts, glad neither one of his brothers had discovered them first.

  He headed for the corner room upstairs, the one he always thought of as his. That’s where Madison was. He knocked on the door and when she said, “It’s not locked,” he performed a balancing act worthy of the circus, and let himself in.

  She was wearing a pair of thermal underwear she must have found in one of his drawers and an old football jersey that had seen better days. Her hair was still damp from her shower and her face scrubbed clean.

  She looked exactly like the girl next door he’d been smart enough to sit beside eleven years ago. The one who’d stolen his heart.

  She lowered her lashes and hid her eyes from him. Part of him was glad—so much emotion roiled between them right now that he couldn’t take seeing whatever it was she wanted to hide. But another part of him wanted it. All of it. Everything he’d shied away from as a stupid young man. As a stupid grown up one, too.

  “You were right,” he said before she could speak. “About everything.” I’ve been running away my whole life.”

  Surprised, she glanced up and saw his serious expression. Silently, she perched on the end of
the bed and drew her knees up, under his jersey. She looked so heartbreakingly beautiful that he didn’t know if he could go on.

  You can do it, son.

  “When my dad left us, he punched a hole in our lives. He’d never been a great dad. He had a mean streak and wasn’t afraid to use it. But he was a part of our world and leaving like he did . . . it messed with my head. It messed with my heart, Madison. Until you, I didn’t realize just how much.”

  “Divorce is hard on the children.”

  “Then I met you and what we had between us . . . .” He shook his head. “It was can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-can’t-exist without you. All the things that made me, me, got lost in that fire that we burned. Scared doesn’t come close to describing how I felt. All I could think of, was what if you left me, too? What would I be after that? By the time Gramps pulled me aside and gave me an excuse . . . I grabbed it like dying man would a stay of execution.”

  “You thought I was going to be bad for you?”

  “No, sweetheart. I thought I was going to destroy us both. And if Gramps hadn’t stepped in, I probably would have. Something inside me needed to punish you for loving me. Just like my dad had punished me.”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. With a deep breath, JT took her Irish coffee from the table where he’d set it and handed her the mug along with a donut.

  “Eat it,” he said. “We’re going to eat the whole damn box and then neither one of us is ever going to hate them again.”

  She gave him a wry look. “If we eat the whole box, we’ll be hating them within the hour.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Maybe. But what do you want, JT? What do you want from me?”

  In that instant, he understood that the yearning to come home had led him here, to this moment, this question. Answer it wrong, and he was going to lose her. Lose his place in Plymouth Rock, the roots that made him who he was. And if that happened, he’d lose a piece of himself.

  “I want you, Madison Lane. For now, for tomorrow, for all the tomorrows that come after. I want to make you laugh, I want to make you mad, I want to have morning sex and late night sex and make up sex with you. I want to kiss you when I wake up and before you go to sleep and every hour in between. I love you. Right down to the core.”

  She blinked at him, surprise and hope in her pretty brown eyes. Carefully setting her coffee and donut down, she stood and faced him. More than anything, he wanted to sweep her into his arms, to hold her so tight she became a part of him.

  “I’m done running away,” he said. “From you, from my family, from my home. I want to stay here, be a part of this community. Share my life, know I’ll never have a secret that Mrs. Shelton won’t sniff out, and be the man my grandpa always thought I could be. And if you’ll have me, I want to do that with you, Madison.”

  Still, she hadn’t spoken, but tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over her lashes. At last, she nodded.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll have you, JT. I love you. I always have.”

  The fear that had held him back released him, and JT swept her into his arms, spinning her as he kissed her. Her arms went around his neck and she held on, kissing him back, just like she had when they were younger. Slowly, he lowered her on the bed and followed her down.

  “Welcome home, JT,” she said against his lips.

  He kissed her deeply, feeling all the scattered pieces of himself coming together inside. A long time later, he lifted his head, bracing himself on his arms over her. Her eyes sparkled with emotion and happiness, and he couldn’t stop smiling at her.

  “What happened today that made you come up here today?” he asked. “You said you saw something that made you brave.”

  She grinned. “Cody and Chris.”

  His chin pulled back and his brows went up. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Cody came to Lane’s and told Chris he was into him. He even told his wife and kids that he’s gay. He was worried about you, though.”

  “Wow. Never would have guessed that was coming ten years ago. But if it makes him happy, it makes me happy. I’m glad for him.”

  “I told him that. It broke my heart, how brave he was. He put himself out there and I thought I could do no less.”

  “You’re the bravest woman I’ve ever known and I’m honored to hold your love.”

  Her smile could have lit up a dark and gloomy cavern.

  “Hamilton’s downstairs cooking like the whole town is planning on showing up for Thanksgiving dinner. Will you stay and spend the day with me?”

  She nodded.

  “How about Christmas, too?”

  “You’re going to be around for that?”

  “Sweetheart, you’re never getting rid of me now. And you will never, ever spend another holiday without family.”

  The faint whiff of cherry tobacco wafted across the room.

  I knew you could do it, son, Gramps said in his head. But I think you can take it from here. I need to head downstairs, make sure Hamilton hasn’t put tofu in the pumpkin pie.

  JT grinned at her. “How do you feel about the last name Winchester?” he asked. “Think you’d want to join the clan?”

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “No,” he teased. “Mrs. Shelton would murder me if I dared to do that without a witness. Just giving you a little head’s up.”

  Madison laughed and pulled him close. “Oh, yeah? Well, I have little something to give you, too.”

  JT’s heart was full. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving and it promised to be a happy one. But already he was giving thanks, and he had so much to be thankful for. He’d left Plymouth Rock to find himself, but the more he searched, the less he knew about who he was.

  If only he’d known the answers were waiting at home in the arms of the girl next door.

  “I guess miracles do happen,” he said, pressing a kiss to her lips.

  “In Plymouth Rock, they happen every day, JT Winchester. Why don’t you lose those clothes and see if you can make one happen now.”

  He sighed. “All right, I’ll do it,” he said in a put-upon voice. “But after that, it’s chocolate donuts, baby.”

  Epilogue

  One year later . . . .

  Madison put the finishing touches on her gift box and stood back to admire her latest creation. The box stood twenty-four inches high, but each side was only twelve inches wide. The perfect size for a chocolate donut cake. Inside, she’d placed two dozen donuts in diminishing circles, with one final sprinkled donut cresting the top. And on top of that, a miniature figurine with a pickaxe over his shoulder and a pipe in his mouth.

  Grandpa Win had done so much to keep his family together, to bring love to his grandsons. It seemed only fitting that he should have a cake in his honor. She knew donuts weren’t typical Thanksgiving fare, and Hamilton would probably pass out when she brought all this processed sugar into his healthy kitchen . . . but the donuts, well, they’d become a tradition for JT and Madison. They’d tied the knot this summer and she’d never been happier in her life.

  “You ready to head up to the cabin?” JT asked, coming into the kitchen with Moof at his heels. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.

  “I am, Mr. Winchester. But first I need to tell you a secret.”

  He leaned to the side, so he could see her face. “Should I alert Mrs. Shelton?”

  “Not yet. This one is just for us.”

  She took the hand that was nestled just under her breasts and moved it down to the hollow between her hips.

  Interested, JT watched.

  “Did you feel that?” she whispered.

  He shook his head.

  “Well, maybe we need to give it a few months. Maybe like . . . .nine.”

  —The End—

  Keep reading for a sneak peak at the second book in the Snowed In and Snuggled Up Holiday Collection.

  ~Excerpt~

  A DASH OF SPICE

  Snowed In and Snuggl
ed Up Holiday Collection

  Book Two

  Calista Fox

  Chapter One

  “Bet’s to you, boy.”

  William Woodrow Winchester—“Scout” to anyone who didn’t want to be laid out flat on his back—studied the cards in his hand. Not exactly a winning combination, but then again, his entire existence had been predicated on “not exactly a winning combination.”

  More so these days.

  He fingered a stack of heavy poker chips. Then flicked a few off with his thumb. Meeting the current ante of a hundred. Upping it to three.

  His gaze drifted around the table as he gauged the other men’s reaction to his bold move.

  One snorted. Met the raise.

  One snickered. Folded his hand.

  One raised an eyebrow. Hedged. Drew out the suspense with a head shake. A head nod. Another shake. Then he dropped his cards on the table with a disgruntled sigh.

  Scout would have given a cocky grin, but there was a final player to consider.

  Vaux Forsythe.

  That old weasel went and upped the pot another two hundred bucks.

  Scout chuckled. He wasn’t exactly surprised.

  His gaze dipped to the five cards he held.

  This was no-draw poker. Nothing wild. Nothing squirrely or girly, as his Grandpa Win would say.

  A game of no guts—no glory, as Vaux would tell anyone who dared to accept a coveted invitation to plop his butt in a chair at this particular table. Where men were definitely…men.

  The hand you were dealt was the hand you played. That was how they rolled in Plymouth Rock, Colorado.

  Scout had learned at an early age how to read his opponents—one of the cornucopia of invaluable lessons his grandfather, the late, great Jefferson Tate Winchester, had taught him. Along with how to assess risk factors and leverage your strengths. How to bluff to high heaven and never, ever give away any signs of weakness. During a poker game, a hockey game…or in the game of life, in general.