Page 1 of Love Under Snowfall

Chapter one

First day of fall quarter, Seattle: Frankie

Frankie Miller lumbered down the vacant hallway with an off-kilter gait that made her lower back cringe. She’d brought too much with her. There was no way she’d need the laptop, notebooks, and what must have been a fifty-pound casebook on day one. But odds were, if she left any one of those things at home, she’d probably end up needing it, and that was an embarrassment she desperately wanted to avoid.

Especially since she was already running late.

You might want to explore a little, the voice of her soon-to-be sister-in-law, Lucy, taunted at the back of her mind.It sure would suck to be late on your first day.

The weekend had been a last-minute scramble. Between finding all the necessary supplies, standing in line for her student ID, and moving into her new place, she had barely a moment to breathe, let alone take a tour of the 750-acre campus. Setting an early alarm seemed like the responsible thing to do but selecting p.m. instead of a.m. in her drowsy haze sabotaged her attempted timeliness. So instead of a two-hour headstart to get her bearings, her amber, sleep-sandy eyes popped open with twenty minutes 'til go time.

The flimsy strap of her crossbody bag dug into her exposed shoulder, causing her to regret the racerback tank she’d thrown onin her haste to leave her apartment. Her flip-flops weren’t the best option either. She'd nearly eaten it a couple of times as the foam soles repeatedly caught on the cobblestones of the main square. Sneakers would have been much better, but since she fell asleep last night before taking the time to unpack, the flimsy footwear was all she could find.

Frankie reached a junction, scanned the large plague of room numbers, and continued waddling down the long corridor.

Room 120.

Room 123.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She knew exactly who the text was from, but he would have to wait. A quick glance confirmed her suspicions and filled her with alarm as she spied the current time.

Crap!

Showing up late would be a bad look. But it was the first day of the quarter. Surely, she wouldn’t be the only straggler on day one. Perhaps she’d be able to sneak in unnoticed and find a seat in the back. Slide under the radar before the dusty old professor had a chance to look up from his notes.

Finally, room 127 came into view, the placard gleaming like a chrome beacon of salvation. Her messy bun bobbled at the crown of her head as she scurried across the hall. She breathed a sigh of relief and gently pushed through the double doors. Making herself as small as possible, she attempted to creep around the perimeter of the room in search of a seat.

“Can I help you?” a deep voice rumbled with mild annoyance as the door sighed shut behind her.

Busted.

Frankie’s eyes snapped up to the front of the room. She was ready to plead her case and ask for a little understanding, but then she froze. Standing behind the podium, instead of the seasonededucator she expected, stood a man not much older than she was.

And he was devastating.

His immaculately tailored suit—the exact color of his navy eyes—hugged the broad expanse of his shoulders. Perfectly coifed black hair upped the ante of his sharp, stern features, giving him a near-sinister vibe. His lips were the only soft thing on him, and even they were pulled tight in a perturbed scowl.

Mouth hanging open, Frankie willed herself to speak.

Say something.

Anything.

Really, anything will do right about now.

But all words—even the notion of language—escaped her, and all she could manage was a pretty spot-on imitation of a statue in the entryway.

“Are you lost, miss . . .? he prompted, speaking louder and slower this time.

“I’m Fra—” she croaked then cleared her throat. “Francesca. Miss Francesca, er, Miller. I’m Francesca Miller, so I guess that would be Miss Miller.”

“Glad we finally got there. What are you doing in my classroom?”

“This is family law, right?”

“It is.”

“I’m in this class.”

---