Scream, shout, kick something. It’s okay to be mad at the past. But please don’t insult me in the process.”
Emma stormed out of the stables, leaving him alone with nothing but a pile of manure.
* * *
“THE NERVE OF that man,” Emma grumbled to herself as she traipsed down the freshly-plowed road toward the lodge. She could just about make out the roof of the building from where she stood. At least there was a lull in the storm and it had stopped snowing. While the exercise felt good, her feet were beginning to ache and her fingers were cold. She reached inside her pocket for her phone. Maybe if she called the lodge, somebody could come get her.
She pulled off a glove with her teeth and began to scroll through her contacts when she heard an engine coming up behind her. She stepped off the road and into a pile of cold, wet snow that instantly seeped down into her duck boot moccasins. After she’d let out a few choice curse words, the snowmobile stopped in front of her and cut the engine.
Dylan.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Emma stomped onto the path in a vain attempt to shake the snow from her shoes. She only succeeded in shaking it farther down toward her toes.
“I don’t want to talk to you either, but I’m not going to allow you to freeze out here. You were crazy to think you could walk back to the lodge in this weather.”
Emma wanted to ignore him, but she was too cold and no amount of pride was worth freezing over. “I was just calling the lodge to have someone come and get me.”
“I’m your somebody. Hop on.”
“Hop on where?” While the snowmobile was a decent size, there was no way her and her belly would fit behind him. At least not without her holding on to him for dear life.
Dylan scooted forward to make more room. “Get on. I’ll go slow, I promise.”
Emma raked her hands down her face. She had never been snowmobiling in her life and she didn’t think her doctor back home in Chicago would approve of this little outdoor activity. She climbed on behind him and gripped his hips.
“Wrap your arms around me,” Dylan said over his shoulder.
“I can’t. My stomach is in the way,” Emma muttered.
She didn’t hear or see Dylan laughing, but she felt his body reverberating against hers. She smacked his arm. “It’s not funny. You try being pregnant.”
“I’m sorry.” He continued to laugh. “Can you hold on to my shoulders?”
Emma slid her hands up his back, relishing the solid muscle beneath her palms. “I can handle that.”
“Apparently.” Dylan arched against her as she squeezed his shoulders.
“You stink.” His odor was probably her only saving grace. If he had smelled musky and manly, she might not have been able to control herself. And she wouldn’t have been able to blame it on her pregnancy hormones.
By the time they reached the lodge, she needed another change of clothes. She didn’t want to sit down to dinner smelling like... Dylan. She wanted to make a graceful escape from the back of the snowmobile—unfortunately getting on was easier than getting off. The story of her pregnancy.
After Dylan’s assistance, she managed to break free of him. “Thank you for the ride.” She headed into the lodge. She may have been grateful for the ride, but she was still mad at him.
“Emma, wait.”
She didn’t bother to stop. She’d had enough of Dylan Slade for one day.
Emma hadn’t realized she’d slept through dinner until she heard a soft knock at the door. If her stomach hadn’t been grumbling, she would’ve ignored it. She couldn’t deal with another minute of Dylan this evening. She checked the peephole, surprised to see Sandy standing in the hallway holding a tray.
She unlocked the door and eased it open. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
“That’s okay. I figured that’s what happened so I brought you dinner. May I come in?” Emma stepped aside as the petite brunette entered the room and set the tray on the small table near the window. “I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier. I’m a little frazzled with my Christmas Day wedding coming up. It’s no excuse, though.”
“Believe me, I realize I’m the enemy. We’re on opposite sides. It’s cool. I do hope you have the wedding of your dreams.”
“Thanks.” Sandy tucked a piece of hair behind her ear that had worked its way loose from her French braid. “There’s a little bit of everything on here. If you want more, just ring downstairs. I see Dylan brought you up the Christmas tree. I know he’s a little gruff on the outside, but he really is a big teddy bear once you get to know him.”
“Somehow I don’t think anyone’s going to mistake Dylan for a squishable stuffed animal anytime soon.”
“Then I guess you won’t mind me telling you he was the one who fixed your tray.” Sandy winked as she walked into the hallway. “I live here in the lodge. Extension 307. Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, I will.” Emma closed the door.
Dylan fixed her tray? She eyed it warily. “I wonder what he did to it.”
She lifted the plate to remove the plastic wrap and found a folded note.
I’m sorry for earlier.
Dylan.
Well, that was unexpected. The smell of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy got the best of her. And then she saw them...butter beans. He remembered. There was also a huge slab of chocolate cake, macaroni and cheese and a slice of meatloaf. Classic comfort food. She’d never desired it until this very moment. And she planned to eat every ounce of it or explode trying.
Halfway through her meal, her text-message tone sounded from the other side of the table. She’d forgotten to turn her phone back off after calling her best friend, Jennie, to help forget her argument with Dylan. She wanted to ignore it, but she was already full anyway. She reached for her phone and tapped the screen to see a message from her boss.
Conference call tomorrow. 1 p.m. Chicago time. Want update.
Her boss had a penchant for caveman text messaging and emails. She didn’t know if she was supposed to call him or he was supposed to call her. Either way, it wouldn’t be a good conversation. At least it gave her the morning to prepare for it. She would have preferred to wait until after Dylan heard her proposal, if she could ever convince him to give her half a chance. Maybe her boss could offer some insight on how to change Dylan’s mind, although that felt as if she were admitting she didn’t have any ideas of her own.
Emma would have preferred staying in her room for the rest of the night, but she didn’t think Silver Bells had tray pick up, especially since they didn’t offer room service. While she was down there, she’d find out about
