Page 66 of Snow Bound

Eventually she quieted, her sobs fading into the occasional sniffle, and he reached for the box of tissues he’d tucked into the chair for just this eventuality. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She took a tissue and wiped her nose, then looked up at him with drenched, swollen eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Those eyes could break a man’s heart, he thought. “For what?”

“For breaking the rules.” She sniffed. “I was calling my mom, and I forgot about the apron. So…I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” he said, stroking a finger down her nose, and her tremulous smile lifted his heavy heart.

“I don’t know why I cried like that,” she said with a watery laugh, swiping at her nose with the tissue again. “I guess I needed it.”

“I guess you did.” Her eyes had gone sad and bleak during her apology, as they often did when she mentioned her mother. “Did your mom say something to upset you?”

“No.” She sniffed. “I got her voicemail.”

He wanted to dig deeper—there was something there—but he wasn’t really her Dom, despite their two week agreement, and it really wasn’t his business.

So he simply said, “Feeling better now?”

She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Good. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a bath until dinner’s ready?”

Her eyes lit with pleasure. “The chicken and dumplings will keep in the crockpot, but the pie needs to come out in about forty minutes."

“I’ll take out the pie,” he told her. “You go get wrinkled.”

“Okay.” She eased off his lap and moved to the stairs. “Grant? Sir?”

He pulled his gaze from her butt—glowing red—to her face. Her eyes were like liquid chocolate, her smile tremulous. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he told her, and didn’t look away until she’d disappeared up the stairs.

She was grateful that he didn’t seem to expect sex that night, or a scene. Her emotions felt so raw, so close to the surface that it felt as one well-placed slap or mind blowing orgasm could break the fragile shell she’d managed to forge around herself and she’d shatter into a million pieces. She went to bed early, pleading exhaustion, and pretended to be asleep when he joined her.

And when she woke in the morning, he was already up and gone.

She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, then tossed back the covers. She only had five days left, dammit, and she’d be dammed if a little crying jag was going to ruin them. And if he thought he was going to spend them avoiding her, well, he could just think again.

She showered, took the time to blow dry her hair, then stomped down the stairs loaded for bear. The living room was empty, but there was a fire roaring in the fireplace, and when she went into the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee sat waiting.

He’d apparently been and gone. Struggling with disappointment, she went to the fridge and dug out some fruit to mix with granola. Quick, easy, and she didn’t need the apron to make it.

She wasn’t quite ready to put it back on.

When she’d eaten and tidied up, she wandered back into the living room, then stopped short.

Grant had a blanket draped over the coffee table, his toy bag at his feet, and his mouth was curved in a devilish grin. “Good morning.”

“Um. Hi.”

He crossed the room, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine,” she said.

“Any lingering emotions from yesterday?”

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