“Jo!” Eddie called to her. “Why aren’t these dishes done yet?” His voice was loud and sloppy, and she didn’t want to test his temper by ignoring him. He’d embarrass her in front of his friends.
“Coming!” She was already dressed for bed in her black shorts and favorite pink cami with butterflies on it.
Bits of dirt clung to her feet as she padded down the hall. She needed to sweep, but between homework and getting supper on the table, there never seemed to be a spare moment.
In the kitchen she slid quietly past the table to the sink, where a couple days’ dishes were piled.
As she had hoped, the four men were too fixed on their game to pay her any mind. Empty brown bottles littered the table and countertop, and the smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air. The window air conditioner hummed in the next room, working futilely to cool the space.
She could hear the men plainly even over the rush of water in the sink and the quiet clank of the dishes as she washed them.
“That’s it,” Eddie said, his cards slapping the table. “I’m done. Let’s call it a night.”
“It’s only eleven o’clock.”
“Yeah, Eddie. I need a chance to win my money back from Shark over there. Meg’s going to kill me if I come home without the rent.”
“You shouldn’t have lost it.” Where the rest of the voices were sloppy and loose, Shark’s was low and controlled. He had little black eyes that reminded Josephine of hard pebbles, and his scruffy neck was thick with veins. She thought the others were a little afraid of him.
“Come on. One more round. I’d rather be dead in a ditch than go home without rent money. Meg’ll nag me into next year.”
“I ain’t got nothing left,” her stepfather whined. “He just took my grocery money, and I don’t get paid till next Friday.”
“You gotta have something of worth around here.”
Josephine scrubbed the pan from last night’s supper as a moment of silence ensued.
“All right, fine. Ain’t nothing ’round here I can’t do without. ’Cept the TV. You can’t have that!”
“Winner takes his pick then.” Shark’s voice rumbled through the room.
“All right, now we’re talking. Deal ’em.”
A bottle top popped open as another round of poker got underway.
Josephine scrubbed and scrubbed at the pan. She hated the mess eggs made. The skillet had long since lost its shiny surface. She wondered what they were going to eat this week if Eddie didn’t win this round. There were only a few cans in the cupboard, and they were out of meat.
Maybe she could babysit for the Crays this week. She liked the toddlers, but sometimes the Crays forgot to pay her. There were always the apple trees in the neighboring lot. But Eddie got tired of apples, and he’d soon enough forget he’d been the one to cause this trouble.
She finished washing the stack of dishes and shut off the water, grabbing the towel from the stove handle.
“Let’s supersize it,” Shark said. The silence was broken by the sound of something sliding across the table.
Eddie swore.
“He’s bluffing,” one of them said.
“Maybe,” Shark said. “Maybe not.”
“I wouldn’t feed these cards to my dog.” Cards slapped the table. “I’m out.”
“Me too. Dang it, Shark, you’re merciless. Meg’s going to kill me.”
“And then there were two.”
“How ’bout it, Eddie?” Shark said.
A long silence sounded, followed by the pop of another bottle top.
“Time to separate the men from the boys,” Eddie said.
Josephine set down the dried pan and started on the glasses.
“Nice hand,” Shark said, pausing for a purposeful moment. “Almost as nice as this one.”
A series of groans sounded behind her, followed by laughter.
“Sonova . . . ,” Eddie swore. “You got the dangedest streak of luck I ever saw.”
“Thanks for playing, ladies,” Shark said.
Josephine put away the last glasses and began gathering the empty bottles from the table. Eddie didn’t like clutter, and she didn’t want the place reeking of beer tomorrow. It was already going to stink of smoke.
“Whatcha gonna take, Shark?”
“Yeah, Shark.”
“Shut up, losers,” Eddie said. “I’ll tell Meg whatcha said about her, then we’ll see who’s gloating over someone else’s misfortune.”
Shark’s chair creaked as he leaned back, a satisfied smirk on his face.
Josephine reached for the bottle nearest him, and his eyes locked onto hers. Their dark intensity held her captive a long, stifling moment before they raked down her body.
A trail of chills raced down her arms, raising the hairs. She tore her eyes away, wishing her pajamas covered more of her.
“You said he’d have his pick. Whatcha gonna take, Shark?”
The bottles clinked as Josephine cradled them to her chest, turning away from the table.
“Oh, I have my eye on something.” His voice scraped across his throat.
“Not my TV! You heard me, boys. I said it was off limits.”
“He don’t want that thing! Have you seen his AV setup?”
Josephine dropped the bottles in the trash can and scurried back to her room. At least the game was over. They’d be gone soon. She shut her door and turned off her light, then scooted between the covers, curling up on her side.
The window was open, a hot breeze barely moving the air. Only a slit of light beneath the door broke up the darkness.
She wished she could erase the image of Shark’s beady eyes from her memory. Mama had said she was an early bloomer. She’d said it like it was a good thing, but Josephine didn’t like the way boys looked at her now. And she especially didn’t like the way Shark looked at her.
She turned away from the door and closed her eyes. She’d almost drifted off when a glow of light from the hall made her eyelids flutter open. Darkness fell over her room once again, and her door clicked shut.
Her ears pricked. She felt a presence in the room. She lay still on the mattress, eyes wide in the suffocating darkness.
The sound of footsteps on the carpet made her blood freeze. Quietly, so quietly, she rolled over, her heart thudding against her ribs. A black shadow hulked over her, and a cold shiver of fear passed through her. Her throat tightened against a scream, and a hand covered her mouth, hard and smothering.
Chapter 8
Sweetbriar Ranch
Present day
Noah sat up on the couch and stretched, his aching muscles extending painfully. His sofa wasn’t meant for sleeping on, that much he’d learned last night.
Not that he’d done much sleeping. He’d been fretting in the dark for hours waiting for the sun to come up. Sometime around five the plinking of the sleet against the windows had stopped. With any luck the temperature would rise with the sun and melt the ice.
Now that a bit of daylight was slipping silently through the curtains, he could see what was going on outside, then tend to the horses.
He jumped up from the sofa and pushed the curtains aside. A thin blanket of white covered the hills, the trees, his truck. No.
No, no, no.
Snow was still falling at a steep angle, gusts of wind making it swirl in vicious circles.
You’ve got to be kidding me. He let the curtains fall back over the window and drove his palm into the frame.
He grabbed his laptop, took it to the couch, and opened it to weather.com. The cold front had dipped farther south than predicted. He stared with disbelief at the day’s forecast.
Four inches of snow by nightfall.
His breath left his body. Josephine would be stuck in his house for another night at least. He didn’t let himself think any further than that or remember how long it sometimes took the plows to get around to the mountain roads.
He palmed his jaw before sliding his hand to his neck, where a
bundle of tension had gathered.
Really, God? You’re really fixing to do this?
Shadow came over and nuzzled his hand, sensing his agitation. Noah rubbed behind the dog’s ears.
His eyes caught on the divorce document lying on the end table. He didn’t even want to think on that right now.
He closed his laptop and got up. The horses needed tending, and he needed something to keep his mind off of Josephine. Off the fact that she was lying in the next room, in his bed.
A few minutes later he was ducking from his truck to the barn. It was a good thing he’d brought the horses in the night before. Looked like they’d be staying put today too.
Inside the barn the wind howled. Kismet gave a tremulous high-pitched neigh. His ears flicked back and forth, and his eyes roved the stable. He’d been pastured since his arrival. Noah knew last night would be hard on him. He should’ve taken some time with the horse, but he’d been distracted by Josephine.
“Hey, buddy,” he said, approaching the stall slowly. “It’s all right. Everything’s gonna be just fine.” He held out his hand, but the horse stepped back.
Noah reached into his coat pocket, where he stashed sugar cubes. It took a few minutes of sweet talk, but Kismet eventually stepped forward and took them from his palm.
“Attaboy.”
In a nearby stall Rango nickered, eager for his feed. A couple of the other horses followed his lead. “All right, all right. I know you’re all hungry. You’ll get your turn.”
After calming Kismet Noah began feeding them. He added a little valerian to Kismet’s feed since he’d be stalled for the day. He took a little time with each horse, offering affection and brushing down a couple of them in the grooming area.
Outside the wind howled, whistling through the eaves. He thought of Josephine curled up in his bed, her hair probably scenting his pillow. She wouldn’t be any happier about the weather forecast than he was. Maybe she’d sleep until noon.
He moved to Digger’s withers, brushing in long, slow strokes. The horse sighed as his muscles relaxed.
Noah’s thoughts moved back to Josephine, remembering her panic the night before. He’d realized his mistake the moment he’d flipped off the light. She’d always been afraid of the dark. Something from her childhood, he guessed. She’d always been fine as long as he was with her. But the moment she was alone in the darkness, she panicked. He fought the protective feelings that rose inside him just as he’d done the night before. Not his responsibility.
He finished tending the horses and drove back to the house. The snow was still coming down, the wind causing whiteout conditions. The sky had brightened as much as it was going to, given the thick gray abyss overhead. If only he could stay in the barn all day.
The house was quiet when he entered, arms loaded with firewood. He shed his winter gear and stoked the fire, his thoughts heavy. How was he going to spend a full day and another night alone with Josephine? Just being near her messed with his head. A cloud of dread swelled inside until his lungs felt constricted by it.
He heard a noise in the hall. So Sleeping Beauty had awakened. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock. The shower kicked on a few minutes later.
He tossed the last log on with more force than necessary, then started on breakfast. He peered into the fridge, spying the carton of eggs. Scrambled, salt and pepper, a bit of cheese. He recalled her preferences much too easily.
Awhile later he headed toward the bathroom to let Josephine know breakfast was ready. The door opened just as he raised his hand to knock. Steam rolled out, and Josephine jumped back.
Her hair was dry and tousled around her face. Her creamy skin bare of makeup. Beautiful, in other words.
She pressed a hand to her chest. “You gave me a fright.”
“Breakfast is ready.”
“I was going to grab something from the coffee shop.” She maneuvered around him, and he gave her a wide path. “Are you ready to go? I just need to get my shoes on.”
Obviously she hadn’t looked outside yet. The bedroom window was covered in opaque plastic, being old and single-paned. The bathroom didn’t even have one.
“Noah? I have appointments today. The sooner I get back, the better.”
He gathered his wits, cleared his throat. “You may as well not bother with your shoes.”
She eyed him for a long moment. “Why is that?”
Somehow saying it out loud would make it real. He pressed his lips together and nodded in the direction of the living room.
After a long scrutinizing look, she crossed to the window and reached for the drapes.
As she parted them, a little squeak escaped her throat.
It looked even worse than it had before—and that was saying something. It was a sea of white. He could barely see past the porch.
Her fingers clutched the drape as she stared, and her shoulders rose and fell.
He let her take it in. He didn’t know what to say anyway.
A moment later she turned and collapsed onto the sofa, giving him the stink eye. “It wasn’t supposed to snow.”
“Well, it did.”
Her eyes flashed. “Thank you ever so much, Einstein.”
He lifted his hands. “Hey, it’s not my fault. I’m not the one who decided to barge in without warning.”
“I was trying to help.”
She glared at him across the space, and he glared back.
Like this was his fault. If she’d just finalized the divorce in the first place like she promised, this wouldn’t be happening. And he wasn’t the one who’d traipsed across the mountain without so much as a phone call.
She crossed her arms. She was wearing the white sweater she’d worn the day before. “How long till it stops? I have a business to run.”
“You might want to call someone to fill in. It’s not supposed to let up for a while.”
Her stormy gaze clashed with his. “How long?”
He looked over her shoulder to the wintry scene outside. The wind blasted just then, whistling down the chimney. The fire snapped, and a log shifted.
“All day.”
Her lips parted, and her shoulders sank as a breath left her body. “Are you kidding me?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“I have a whole boatload of things to do today. Not only the appointments. I have a big event at the shop this weekend. I have a lot of planning yet to do.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Tell me you’re kidding!”
He pressed his lips together. Did she think he liked this? It was his worst flipping nightmare.
“There’s scrambled eggs in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
Chapter 9
The front door shut behind Noah, and a week’s worth of tension drained from Josephine. He’d left, supposedly to check on the horses, but she figured it had more to do with a desperate desire to escape her. He hadn’t spoken one word since he’d offered her breakfast. Even now the eggs sat congealing in her stomach.
Have mercy, how was she going to make it through this day?
She was going to stay busy, that’s what. She retrieved her phone from the bedroom and dialed. Callie answered on the fifth ring, her voice still groggy with sleep.
Josephine got down to business. “I’m afraid I can’t make it in this morning. I know this is your day off, but could you spell me?”
Callie cleared her throat. “Why, of course I can.”
“My first appointment is at eleven, and I have a few more this afternoon. Ellen will be in at three.”
“No problem. Is everything all right?”
Josephine gave a huff. “Depends on your definition of all right. I’m stuck in the mountains until this storm lets up.”
“Where on earth are you?”
Josephine closed her eyes. Since coming to work at the shop Callie had become her best friend. The woman knew a bit about her history with Noah. Of course, who in town didn’t?
“At Sweetb
riar Ranch.”
A long pause followed.
“Callie?”
“Noah’s ranch, you mean?”
“That’d be the one.”
“Oh. You didn’t tell me—”
“No. It’s nothing like that. I just came up to get the divorce papers signed and . . . got stranded.”
“Oh my. What possessed you to do that? I thought he was signing them on Friday.”
“Well, I got it in my head I’d save him the trip.”
“Hoo-boy.”
“You can say that again.” Josephine palmed her forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Actually, there is.”
She instructed Callie to scan some of the documents on her desk for the Hope House pampering party, then check the stock room for adequate supplies. Josephine would have to get a final list of the girls’ names and work out a schedule for hair, makeup, and nails. She could also confirm times with the stylists by phone today.
“All right then, anything else?”
Josephine thought of Noah, returning soon to the cozy little cottage with too little space and not enough distractions. Not nearly enough.
“Yeah. You could pray for the snow to stop.”
“Will do, friend.”
After hanging up, Josephine turned on the TV and made some other calls. After she was finished she shut off her phone to conserve battery power.
To kill time she wiped down the counters and washed the skillet, wondering what was taking Noah so long. Not that she wanted him to return, but the conditions outside were bad. The wind howled, blowing up so hard that the screens rattled in their frames.
Was it possible to get lost between the house and barn, like those old stories of settlers on the prairie? She went to the front door and lit up the outside like a Christmas tree. Then she scolded herself, because Noah was terribly competent and was surely only trying to avoid her.
She gave a wry grin. That might be a first. A man who didn’t want to be alone with her. Sometimes she missed the old Josephine.
The front door opened, and she spun around, suddenly aware she was standing in the middle of the room like a befuddled idiot.
Sweetbriar Cottage Page 6