be the first. Her family—with the exception of MaryDru—were charter members of the Don’t-Be-Ridiculous-AnnaBeth club.
Deirdre swallowed. “Oh, honey. On top of everything else that happened today, it was supposed to be your wedding day, too?”
AnnaBeth’s cheeks flamed. “It sure hasn’t turned out to be the day I expected.”
His face inscrutable, Jonas stepped back a pace. “Where’s your groom?”
She bit her lip. “Back in Charlotte.”
Jonas and his mother exchanged glances.
Deirdre patted Hunter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help me set the table for dinner? You can put out a special place for AnnaBeth.”
He smiled. “Okay, Gwam-ma. I’m so happy you’re here early, Miss AnnaBef.” He hugged her legs.
Early? Not daring to look at his father, she wrapped her arms around Hunter, inhaling the sweet little-boy scent of him.
Jonas pulled at his arm. “Go with Gramma, Hunt. Please.”
Letting go of her, Hunter followed his grandmother beyond the long pine table in the adjacent dining area toward the door AnnaBeth guessed led to the lodge kitchen.
Jonas took the coat from her. “AnnaBeth?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. She really didn’t want to get into what had happened between her, Scott and MaryDru. She didn’t have the emotional energy to go into it. Her wedding debacle wasn’t any of his business.
And then Jonas Stone surprised her.
“The guy’s a total jerk to have jilted you at the altar,” Jonas said, his gravelly voice slightly fierce. “You know that, right?”
Scott jilting her wasn’t exactly what took place. She opened her mouth to correct Jonas, but stopped. After declaring his love for her sister, that was exactly what Scott had been about to do. Only she’d beaten him to the punch and run away first. Jonas didn’t need to know the embarrassing details of her never-got-off-the-ground marriage.
Despite evidence to the contrary, she still had a few tattered remnants of pride. Everyone who mattered already knew what happened. Anyone else was on a need-to-know basis. And Jonas fell into the category of “most definitely didn’t need to know.”
Besides, give or take twenty-four hours, she’d never see him again. That thought descended upon her with unexpected gloom. But Jonas wasn’t done surprising her.
“Small consolation—trust me, I know—but you’re better off without him.” Her coat clutched in his large hands, he wrung the garment as if he wished it was Scott’s neck. “You’re better off not hitched to a loser like him for the rest of your life.”
A curious mixture of simmering fury—not directed at her, but on her behalf—and compassion filled his dark eyes. She gaped at him. And reminded herself to breathe.
No one had ever defended her supposedly injured honor so vigorously before.
“Don’t worry about your car. My cousin, Zach, owns the auto-repair shop in Truelove. I’ll get him to tow your car and find out what’s wrong.”
She didn’t know what to say. And for once, surprising herself, she said nothing.
But like a bottle finally uncorked, Jonas continued to speak.
“Storm’s likely to last all night, but until the roads are plowed, no one can get on or off the mountain. Worst-case scenario, we could be snowed in here for a few days.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We’ll sort everything out. I promise.”
A veritable avalanche of words. Jonas would be exhausted tomorrow, no doubt.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted his about-face. He said he knew—as in understood firsthand?—that she was better off without her erstwhile groom. In the past, had something equally humiliating and hurtful happened to him, too?
Jonas squared his shoulders. Broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, where his shirttail was tucked into his jeans. “Stay here as long as you like, AnnaBeth. You’ve found a safe place, a refuge from the storm, here with us at the FieldStone.”
Her heart gave a funny quiver. Her eyes locked with his. She soon became lost in his melted-chocolate eyes.
But truth be told, she was lost in more ways than just the obvious.
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