Snowed In

by Sarah Title

  “And when you met him, did he match his photograph? I hear some great horror stories about thinking you’re going to meet Brad Pitt and ending up with Elmer Fudd.”

  “Yes, he matched. He’s a handsome guy.”

  “And did you have as much in common as you thought?”

  “Well, I liked him right away.”

  “So you had that in common. You both liked him. Good. What else?”

  “Um, well. We both went to grad school. And we are both career-driven. See, I’m very passionate about libraries and it was really appealing to me that he cared so much about his work.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like he swept you off your feet. This doesn’t sound like a great tragedy here. Or am I missing something? Did he die of cancer?”

  “No.”

  “Did he die trying to cure cancer?”

  “No, he’s not dead.”

  “It sounds to me like he’s just a regular guy and it didn’t work out. Sure, you put a lot of time into it—more fool you, honey—but you’re probably better off without him.”

  “How can you say that? You don’t know him! You don’t even know me!”

  “I may be old, but I ain’t slow. Maureen, you need a distraction. You need something to keep your mind off the fact that you lost a relationship that wasn’t that great to begin with.”

  Oh my gosh, Maureen thought, if this woman tries to kiss me, I am never grocery shopping again.

  “Don’t look at me like that, girlie. You’re cute, but I don’t swing that way.”

  Maureen blushed. The god had really affected her ego.

  “But you’re on the right track.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You need a fling! When my Earl died, bless his heart, I didn’t waste any time mourning. Of course, Earl was a low-down, dumb-bum drunk with three other girls on the side, but I loved the bastard. No, as soon as that casket closed, I got back in the game.”

  Maureen blinked at Pippa. Got back in the game? Surely, now, she wasn’t receiving sexual advice from a woman old enough to be her grandmother?

  “I found I had plenty of wild oats left to sow, so I did. Then I met my Marv, and we’ve been together for three months now. He’s got a bad ticker and he can’t eat sugar, but he tells me I’m enough sugar for him. I tell you what—I’m the luckiest gal alive.”

  That was sweet, Maureen thought. A little gross, but sweet.

  “So will you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Wake up, girlie! Get out there and have meaningless sex! Fuck that bastard right out of your system!”

  Maureen’s eyes widened.

  “Yes, that’s right, an old lady said ‘fuck.’ Don’t you think there’s something wrong with the fact that a woman twice your age has more sexual satisfaction than you do?”

  This was definitely the strangest pep talk she’d ever received. But somehow, it was working.

  “Okay.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I said, okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, I’ll go out and have meaningless sex! I’ll fuck that bastard right out of my system!”

  A passing woman covered her toddler’s ears and shot Maureen a dirty look.

  “Go on, girlie!” shouted Pippa, oblivious to the ruckus she was causing.

  “I will go on! Thanks. I’m glad to have met you.”

  “You’re a sweet girl, Maureen. But I don’t want to see you crying in this aisle ever again,” Pippa said as she pushed her cart away.

  Maureen took a deep breath and lifted her head with determination. No more crying in the grocery store. No more crying anywhere, not over Dave, not over any man. She was going to go home, burn these sweatpants, and start fucking!

  Tomorrow, probably.

  Chapter 5

  Gavin saw Pippa come out of the grocery store and pocketed his phone. The new guy was holding down the office just fine.

  “I got you bread, milk, eggs, and some other stuff, you ingrate,” she said, handing him his change.

  “Thank you, Pippa. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he replied. Sleep in, probably. He started loading her bags in the back of his truck. “Jesus, Pippa, did you leave anything on the shelves?”

  “When that dumb-bum on channel eleven says a storm is coming, he’s usually right. I don’t want to be snowed in without any food. Besides, Marv is coming over tonight. So I’m hoping we get snowed in for a while.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Great mental image, he thought.

  “It’s not a bad idea, you know. You should get snowed in with someone.”

  His mind immediately went to the mystery woman in the ice cream aisle. Dammit, he’d almost gone a whole trip to the store without thinking of her.

  “Right.”

  “Think about it. Oh, hey, girlie! You gonna do what I told you?” Pippa was yelling at someone across the parking lot. Gavin was used to her making friends wherever she went, so he kept on loading the groceries. He was finding room for the last bag when Pippa’s phone rang and she launched into an alarmingly explicit baby-talk conversation with, he assumed, Marv. Now would be a great time to do my civic duty and return the cart to the rack, he thought, crossing the parking lot.

  The lot was crowded—everyone panicked when snow was in the forecast, even though it rarely snowed more than an inch or two—but his eyes caught a tall woman in a puffy black coat loading bags into the trunk of a sensible-looking compact car.

  Holy. Shit.

  The mystery woman.

  He saw the instant she recognized him, her eyes going wide as she tried to duck into her little car as fast as possible. Oh, no. He wasn’t letting her get away again.

  “Hey!” he shouted, running toward the car. “Hey, stop!”

  She already had the car started by the time he got to her, but he knocked on the window. She didn’t look up as she rolled the window down.

  “Hey, hi,” he said, a little out of breath. “How’s it going?”

  She looked up at him then, her blue eyes carefully blank. “Fine, thanks. How are you?”

  “Good. Good.” Good one, Gavin. Way to charm her. “What’s new?”

  Her eyes went from blank to incredulous. “What’s new? Since when? Since I molested you in the freezer aisle two weeks ago?”

  “Two weeks and four days ago,” he said. “Almost three weeks. A lot could be new.” He paused, letting what she’d said register. “And I think it was me doing the molesting.”

  “Fine, we molested each other. Mutual molestation. What do you want?”

  To be molested by you again. “Just to say hi. See how things are going.” To learn your name. To see if that kiss was as hot as I remember.

  “Things are fine, thanks. You’ll be happy to know I’m turning over a new leaf. No more crying.”

  “Good! That’s really good. You’re over what’s-his-name?”

  “Yes. Well, almost. I’m over him enough to get back out there,” she said in a determined voice. “I’m ready to—” She cut herself off.

  “Ready to what?”

  “Nothing.” She was furiously blushing. It was frigging adorable.

  “Oh.” Time to seize his opportunity. “Well, if you’re, uh, getting back out there, maybe you’d like to get a drink? Maybe tonight?”

  He could see her searching her brain for an excuse. “Isn’t there supposed to be a snowstorm tonight?”

  “That dumb-bum channel eleven weatherman is never right,” he replied.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re right, it’s supposed to snow, but not until way later. Let’s make it dinner. We’ll eat early and you’ll be tucked in bed before the first flake even falls.” My bed, with any luck.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Considering his offer, he hoped.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Oh! Right. Gavin.” He stuck his hand in the open window to shake her hand. “Gavin Fraser.”

  “Maureen. O’Connel
l.”

  “What are you, Irish?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that, Gavin Fraser? I’m surprised you’re not wearing a kilt.”

  “I only wear my kilt on special occasions. Besides, it’s way too cold to go commando.”

  She looked at him, and he thought he saw her eyes darken a little. “Do you really have a kilt?” she asked softly.

  He lifted a corner of his mouth in a slow smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Fine. Dinner. The Cold Spot. Six o’clock.”

  “Are you sure? You don’t sound like you made up your mind there.” The Cold Spot wasn’t the most romantic spot for dinner, but they had the best burgers in the county. And he knew the owner; he could make it work.

  “Cute. ’Bye, Gavin Fraser.”

  “ ’Bye, Maureen O’Connell.” She rolled up her window, and she was gone.

  Chapter 6

  Maureen didn’t burn the sweatpants, but she did throw them in the back of her closet. She couldn’t have burned them if she wanted to because her new apartment didn’t have a fireplace. A co-worker’s cousin had rented it to her. She knew she should be grateful for finding something on such short notice, but it was drafty and bland. It didn’t help that almost all of her worldly possessions (i.e., books) were in boxes. Normally she was a very organized packer, labeling each box by the room it would go in, but she’d left Dave’s in such a hurry that she could only hope she hadn’t forgotten anything.

  On the way home from the grocery store—the one she would never cry in again—she thought about her apartment full of boxes, and how she had only dug out enough clothes for work, and how she only had four hours to open every box and hope that her cute date clothes were not buried at the bottom of a box of paperbacks.

  Then she made a quick right to get on the highway and headed out to the mall.

  One pair of butt-hugging jeans, a scoop-neck sweater, an impulse buy in the lingerie department, and she was ready for the god. Well, the clothes, the lingerie, some cheap but fabulous dangly earrings, a new tube of mascara and she was ready for the god.

  A date. She hadn’t let herself think about it too much as she got dressed. If she thought about it, she would have reconsidered—really, she was in no position to be going on a date, emotionally or otherwise. It had only been two weeks since Dave had dumped her. But if she didn’t get out there she’d never, well, purge the memory of Dave. And if a promise to a funny-looking stranger in a grocery store wasn’t sacred, what was?

  She could picture her new friend Billie’s look of horror as she tugged on her snow boots and squashed her curls with a knit hat, completely ruining the Casual Sex Kitten look she was going for. But Gavin’s weatherman was right, snow was predicted. And besides, he seemed to like her well enough in her spinster sweats; surely a little practical weather gear wouldn’t turn him off. She knotted a scarf around her neck and headed out the door.

  Gavin watched her pull into the little parking lot behind the Cold Spot, right next to his truck. He’d been waiting outside for her, and the tips of his ears felt like they were going to freeze off. But from the moment she’d accepted his date—or he’d accepted hers—he couldn’t stop thinking about her, about her smile, and her quick wit, and her lush body pressed against his . . .

  The cold air was not doing enough to dampen his lust. Pippa had given him hell the whole ride home, teasing him for chasing after strange women in the parking lot like a dog in heat, then chastising him for not introducing her. He hadn’t told her about his previous experience with Maureen O’Connell, former mystery woman. Pippa had enough to worry about with her own romantic evening, though, so he could keep the memories to himself.

  He was in such a good mood about it that he sent the new guy home early. Then it was just him in the big old house, puttering around the office, pretending to check his email, killing time until six o’clock. He had tried on every damn shirt in his closet before he realized with disgust that he was nervous. Nervous! Gavin Fraser was not nervous around women! In the end, he just picked up the nearest shirt, a button-down flannel, tugged on his boots, and left the house.

  He arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early.

  Sitting alone in his warm car gave him too much time and space to reminisce about Maureen O’Connell’s lush little sweatpants, so out he went. He was freezing. And he was still horny.

  “Am I late?” she asked as she approached. She looked different without the tear smudges. Her eyes were bright and clear, and the green knit cap she wore pushed her curls down to frame her face. She was adorable. The jeans weren’t bad either. A definite improvement over the sweatpants.

  And he had never been so turned on by snow boots in his life.

  “No, you’re fine. You look nice.”

  “You look freezing. Don’t you have a hat?”

  “I like to feel the cold air.” Yeah right. He took a deep breath to make it a little more convincing. “Makes me feel like a man.”

  She laughed, her smile reaching up to crinkle the corners of her eyes. She turned away from him toward the nearly empty street and took her own deep breath. “It is nice. You can smell the storm in the air.”

  Gavin loved that smell. He took another deep breath and this time the raw smell of impending weather mixed with the sweet, herby sent of her shampoo.

  “But it’s freezing out here,” she said, turning back to him.

  “After you,” he said, gallantly holding the door open for her.

  She arched an eyebrow at him, but went in. The jeans are definitely an improvement, he thought as he followed her inside.

  The Cold Spot was nearly empty, just a few regulars having one last hurrah at the bar before the shoveling they would all have to do in the morning. Gavin had called the owner, Brick (so named because he was solid and perpetually red-faced), to ask him for the Date Night Special. Brick had laughed in his ear, saying he didn’t remember that being on the menu. Nonetheless, he was there to greet them at the door.

  “Ah, Mr. Fraser, how nice to see you again.” The burly man had a thick Kentucky drawl and a barely concealed smirk. “May I show y’all to your table?”

  “Sure. Brick, this is Maureen, Maureen, Brick. Brick owns this place.”

  “It will be a pleasure to serve you the finest greasy food in all of Kentucky.”

  “Thanks,” Maureen said, smiling, as she followed Brick to their table.

  “Would you care to see our wine list?” Brick said, passing them each a paper menu.

  “Oh, I’ll just have a beer, please,” Maureen said, shrugging out of her coat. “Whatever’s on tap.”

  “Excellent choice, mademoiselle. And for you, good sir?”

  Gavin knew when his friend was yanking his chain, as he liked to say. “Knock it off, Brick. Since when do you have a wine list?”

  “I think there’s a bottle of red sitting on a shelf somewhere in the back. It’s older than the hills, but it’s probably still good.”

  “Beer, thanks.”

  Brick bowed deeply, which was pretty impressive considering his beer gut, and ambled off to the bar, whistling.

  “Wow, I’ve been here before but I’ve never gotten service like this. You must be really important, huh?”

  Cute and sarcastic. It almost made the good-natured jeers he was getting from his friends Luke and Chase at the bar worth it.

  Gavin cleared his throat. “I went to high school with Brick’s son. I thought I could count on a friend to do me a favor,” he shouted toward the bar where Brick was pouring their beers. “Are you impressed?” he asked her.

  She smiled at him. “I’ll only be impressed if you can swing extra steak fries.”

  “Done.”

  Gavin had the feeling they were smiling at each other like dopes, but he didn’t care. The low pub lighting played off her curls and made her skin glow. He may have broken eye contact for a second to admire the close fit of her sweater, but that was just because he didn’t want to intimidate her wi
th too much deep gazing.

  Maureen looked down at her menu. “What I really want is a burger and fries, but I kind of think I should test your influence and have the chef whip up something extraordinary for us,” she said, waving her hands for emphasis.

  “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  “Never. Sorry.”

  “You’re not sorry at all.”

  “You’re right. But I will let you off the hook and just order a burger. I’m still holding you to that promise of extra fries,” she said, pointing a stern finger in his face.

  They placed their orders and sat in silence, sipping their beers. Just as it was about to get awkward, Maureen said, “So you grew up here?”

  “Yeah. Hollow Bend, born and bred.”

  “You’ve never lived anywhere else?”

  “I went to college in Pennsylvania, but I came back here to open my business.”

  “Is your family still here?”

  “Nope. No family.”

  “How can you have no family? You have to have come from somewhere.”

  He really didn’t want to get maudlin on the first date, but it would be weirder if he didn’t tell her. It wasn’t a secret, anyway. “My parents died when I was in high school. Car accident.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine . . . that’s terrible.” Her hand went to her throat and her eyes shone with sympathy, but she didn’t press him.

  “It was a long time ago.” He waved it off, in spite of the pang in his gut. It had been a long time ago. On the last anniversary of the accident, he’d realized that he had now been alive without them longer than he had with them.

  But that was definitely not a first date conversation. It might not be an ever conversation. He imagined being close enough to Maureen to share all of his secret hurts and dreams.

  And he was getting way ahead of himself. “So, what brought you to Hollow Bend? Most people move here because they were born here.” Or fell in love here, he thought, thinking of Keith’s wife, Mal.