Page 61 of Snowbound
“I kindawas.”
He chuckles, and my insides warm. “You got all the way to the pond before I caught you. Think you tripped?”
I nod. I remember in vivid detail. My voice lowers, huskier. “And you pinned me down. I thought my heart was beating so fast I might pass out.”
He nods. “Aye, lass. Mine too.”
I swallow the cocoa; my mug’s empty.
The way he looked at me when I was pinned beneath him… dominated by his strength, and at his mercy. Something shifted between us then, and we both knew it.
“You pulled my hat down over my eyes, and thenyoutook off.”
“Had to,” he says soberly. “If my father or your mother’d caught us like that…”
“I know,” I whisper.
We both look out the window.
“Let’s go outside, Owen. Let’s play in the snow.”
He smirks, eying my half-eaten breakfast. “Finish yer breakfast before I’ll allow you to play, woman.” He leans forward. “Maybe a pretty, blocked American novelist needs to keep her energy up so she can have what it takes to unblock herself, aye?”
I snort and finish my breakfast. “Now can we go out?” I feel like a little girl again, in the best possible way. Safe and hopeful. Excited.
There’s a long pause, then a slow nod.
We rustle around the closet in the cabin and find an oddball assortment of clothes and shoes. He helps me into a thick parka, pulling the zipper all the way to my chin like I’m a child.
His fingers linger on my collar. My breath clouds between us.
“Don’t run this time,” he murmurs.
I almost laugh. Running is the last thing on my mind. If anything, I want to run from everything…buthim. Even though I know this is temporary.
Even though I don’treallyknow who Owen Callahan is.
He tugs on his winter gear. Why is that so hot?The knit hat pulled snug brings out the green in his eyes. He looks so much… bigger. Stronger. Immovable. I turn, push the door open, and walk out.
He growls behind me, something about “locked door” and “not a care for safety,” but his words are swallowed in the great outdoors.
It smells clean and crisp out here, the sky a dazzling shade of white blue, a winter wonderland.
It’s quiet in that surreal, snowy way. Every sound is muffled. The world is white and soft and infinite. My boots crunch down into at least a foot of snow. Flakes catch in my lashes, melting on my lips.
I turn. Owen stands just behind me, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed but dancing at me.
And I throw the first snowball. It hits him square in the chest.
He blinks, then looks down at the wet patch spreading across his coat, then up at me. His eyes are flat. Amused.Dangerous.
“You want to play?”
I grin and throw another. He dodges it and steps forward, fast.
I squeal, my heart racing, and I’m quickly smacked with a snowball of his. It’s light and fluffy, but it slides down past my collar and freezes my neck.
Another hits, and then another. How does he make them so fast? I stumble and make a clumsy, quick ball to toss back at him, but it isn’t packed like his were and disintegrates well before it hits him.
