all the time she’d known him, he’d had a strained relationship with his father. Kara surmised it had started with the death of Jason’s mother, but none of that explained why Jason had turned his back on his dad after so many years. She couldn’t imagine ever cutting herself off from her parents. They didn’t have a perfect relationship, but her folks were always there when she needed them, and vice versa.
Refusing to believe Jason could be so cold, she said, “The next time I stop by the nursing home, I’ll let him know you’re in town.”
“Don’t interfere. That man and I took care of everything we had to say to each other years ago. There’s nothing left between us.”
Jason’s rigid tone told her she was pushing her luck, but she couldn’t help herself. “But he’s changed. He’s sober—”
“No more.” Jason’s hand slashed through the air, as though drawing an imaginary line she shouldn’t cross. “I can’t argue with you. I need to focus on the road.”
She sagged back against the seat with a heavy sigh. He was right. Now wasn’t the time to delve into the situation with his father. At best, Jason would be only partially listening to her while he worked to keep them out of a ditch. At least she’d had a chance to make her point about his father’s condition. There wasn’t much more she could do now. She just hoped Jason would come to his senses and make peace with his dad before it was too late. Regrets were tough to live with. She should know.
She reached for the radio, then paused. “Do you mind if I turn on some music?”
“Go ahead.”
At the press of a button, an ad for a local grocery store resonated from the SUV’s speakers. Kara turned the dial, searching for her favorite country station. The headline news greeted her. She glanced at the clock on the dash. With it being the top of the hour, news would be on most every station.
“This bulletin is just in from the National Weather Service,” the radio announcer said in a somber tone, garnering Kara’s full attention. “The arctic express is supposed to dump twenty-four inches of snow in the higher elevations by tomorrow.”
“Two feet,” she said in horror.
“We’ll be okay.” Jason reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. An army of goose bumps marched up her limbs. She assured herself it was just a reaction to the dire forecast and had nothing to do with his touch.
The radio crackled as the announcer’s voice continued to ring out. “That isn’t even the worst of the storm. Sometime this evening, a blast from the south will raise the temperature, only to have the thermometer quickly sink back below freezing. I know you’re thinking this is a good thing, but let me tell you, folks, those pretty little flakes are going to change into an ice shower, and with a wind advisory due to kick in at midnight, it’s going to get dicey, resulting in downed trees and power lines....”
After another advertisement, strains of “Let It Snow” began to play. Someone at the radio station had a sick sense of humor. Outside, the flakes were continuing to come down hard and fast. A glance at Jason’s squinted eyes and the determined set of his jaw told Kara the conditions were already beyond dicey.
Minutes later, when the vehicle skidded to a stop next to an old elm tree, outside a modest log home, she turned to him. “What are we doing here?”
“The roads are too dangerous. We’ll hunker down here until the storm passes.”
“Here?” A half-dozen snow-covered trees surrounded them. “In the middle of nowhere?”
“This isn’t the boonies. There’s heat and shelter. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
There he went again with that line about trust. The words grated across her thinly stretched nerves. What in the world had she done for Fate to conspire against her?
“I can’t spend the night with you,” she protested, even though she knew her daughter would be safe with her parents.
Jason leveled a frown at her, as though he wasn’t any more pleased than she was about the situation. “You aren’t scared of being alone with me, are you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said a little too quickly, refusing to meet his intense stare. “I grew up a long time ago.”
Her lips pressed into a firm line as she surveyed the sprawling log structure. Being snowed in with Jason, of all people, would be more stressful than sliding down the slick mountain road. Her hands clenched. She and Jason had too much history, and she hated how he still got under her skin, evoking a physical awareness she hadn’t experienced in ages.
“Do you even know who lives here? Or are we about to commit an act of breaking and entering?”
“This is now my home. Don’t you remember it? I brought you here a couple of times to visit my grandmother.”
Her gaze moved past him to the covered porch, with its two wooden rocking chairs. She searched her memory. At last she grasped on to a vague recollection that brought a smile to her lips. “I remember now. She fed us chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. I liked her a lot.”
“She liked you, too.” His lips quirked as though he’d been transported back in time—back to a life that wasn’t so complicated. “I inherited this place from my grandparents, along with a trust fund my father couldn’t squander.”
Glowing light from the dashboard illuminated Jason’s face, highlighting the discomfort he felt when mentioning his dad, as he opened the door, letting the frigid air rush in. “Wait here. I’ll leave the heat on while I shovel a path to the porch.”
She refused to let him overexert his injured leg again on her behalf. With a twist of the key, she turned off the engine and vaulted out of the SUV. She sidled up next to him as he limped along.
He frowned down at her. “Don’t you ever listen?”
“Only when I want to. Now, lean on me and take some pressure off your leg.”
He breathed out an exasperated sigh before draping his arm over her shoulder. She started to lean in closer, but then pulled back, keeping a respectable distance while still assisting him. She refused to give in to her body’s desire to once again feel his heat, his strength. She had to keep herself in check. This was simply a matter of he’d helped her and now she was returning the favor—that was all.
On the top step, they paused. Her eyes scanned the lengthy porch. Her gaze stopped when she noticed a freshly cut pine tree, all ready to be decked out in colorful ornaments and tinsel. She remembered as a child accompanying her father and grandfather to the local Christmas-tree farm to cut down their own tree. The fond memory left her smiling.
“I’m so jealous,” she said as Jason pulled away to stand on his own. “You have a real Christmas tree. All I ever have time for is the artificial kind. I remember how the live trees would bring such a wonderful scent to the whole house.”
“A neighbor asked to cut down a tree on my property, and thanked me by chopping one for me, too. The thing is, I don’t do Christmas.”
“What do you mean, you don’t do Christmas?” Her eyes opened wide. “How do you not do Christmas? It’s the best time of the year.”
“Not
