Janice Kay - Snowbound

“Not everyone. But some do.”

She studied him. “You don’t sound as if you’re used to it. Which means you haven’t been doing this long.”

“I’m learning on the job.” His expression, never forthcoming, closed completely. “Your toast has popped up. And you didn’t tell me whether you want eggs.”

“If you mean it, I’d love some. Scrambled,” she added.

He nodded and got supplies from the enormous refrigerator while she buttered the slices of toast and slathered on jam that looked and—when she took a bite—tasted homemade.

In only moments, it seemed, John set the plate of eggs on the table in front of her.

“Will you sit down with me?” she asked. “I suppose you’ve long since eaten.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee. You? I’m sorry, I should have asked sooner. I didn’t know whether the kids should be drinking it, so I didn’t offer any.”

“I’d love some.”

She began eating hungrily while he poured coffee and sat at one end of the long table with her, pushing a mug toward her. “I’m starved,” she admitted, between bites.

“Stressful day yesterday.”

“You can say that again.”

“This Knowledge Champs. Did your students win?”

“We actually have two teams. The A team did pretty well. They won one round and tied another. The B team got creamed. Partly because Amy and Hopper were too busy flirting to pay attention.”

“Ah.” His mouth relaxed into something approaching a smile. “Amy being the one constantly fiddling with her hair.”

“I swear, I’m going to make her put it in a ponytail before the next competition.”

Fiona finished her toast and considered the muffins.

“Applesauce or blueberry.”

“You made them yourself?”

“Yes.”

How like him. A succinct answer, no desire to expand the way most people would, admitting that they’d always liked to cook or hadn’t liked to cook but found they were good at it, no, The recipe is my mother’s .

So, how to learn something about him? Are you married? seemed too bald.

“Do you have kids?” she asked.

“No.”

Argh.

“Me, either,” she said. “Someday.”

He nodded, although whether concurring or simply acknowledging what she’d said, Fiona couldn’t guess.

“Do you usually have guests year-round?”

“Generally just weekends in the winter.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

Again she thought she saw amusement, as much in a momentary narrowing of his eyes as on his mouth. Did he know perfectly well what she was getting at?

“No.” After a moment, he added, “I prefer the solitude.”

Fiona hid her face behind the mug and took a sip of coffee. “Then I’m doubly sorry,” she said, setting it down, “that we’ve had to impose ourselves on you.” She tilted her head. “I hear some of the kids coming right now.”

He rose, lines appearing between his brows. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She looked at him. “Is it the truth?”

Very stiffly, he said, “I served in Iraq. When I got back…”

Behind him, Dieter and Troy wrestled to determine who would get through the doorway first. “Food,” Dieter moaned. “Let me at the food.”

When she looked again at John Fallon, it was to see that he had once again wiped his face clean of expression. Whatever he’d been going to say—and, from what she’d read about the problems of returning veterans, she could guess—would remain unspoken unless she wrenched it out of him.

Darn it, did the boys have to show up, just when the conversation was getting interesting?

CHAPTER THREE

WILLOW AND ERIN came into the kitchen right behind the boys, Willow with wet hair slicked to her head. If Erin had bathed, she’d somehow kept hers dry.

John took orders for eggs and disappeared into the pantry.

“Can we go outside after breakfast?” Dieter asked.

“Have you looked out the window?”

“Yeah, it’s still snowing. Major cool!”

“Do you know how easily you could get lost out there?”

“Come on,” he coaxed. “We’d stay right by the lodge.”

“Clothes are another problem. We can’t keep asking Mr. Fallon to wash them so we can go out and play.”

His face fell. “Oh. Wow. I wish I had my ski stuff.”

Personally Fiona would settle for a couple of pairs of clean underwear.

“We’ll see,” she said. “I’m going to offer to do the laundry this morning. Maybe we could do a load of wet stuff later.”

They cheered just as John return from the pantry with a big bowl.

“They want to go outside,” she explained to him. “I’m concerned about our limited changes of clothes.”

He thought he could come up with a few pairs of quilted pants and more parkas and gloves. “The lost and found is full of gloves. And hats.”

No surprise; those were the small items easy to misplace. She could lose a glove at home or in her car.

When she was done eating, she insisted on carrying her own dirty dishes to the sink and then he showed her the laundry room. “I’ll get a load running,” she said with a nod. “And I’ll organize the kids to wash dishes. You shouldn’t have to wait on us.”

He opened his mouth and closed it.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Just…you don’t look like a schoolmarm. But you have it down pat.”

“I’ve been teaching for five years now.”

“You don’t look old enough.”

Two personal observations in a row. Were either compliments?

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“So you started teaching right out of college.”

Fiona nodded. “I’ve been working on my master’s degree at Portland State for several years. Summer quarter and sometimes an evening class.”

“Better salary?”

She sighed. “Of course. But also, I’m learning. I used to think I wouldn’t be interested in administration, but maybe someday.”

This was when the conversation was supposed to become reciprocal. Yeah, I thought about minoring in education but …

Even though he didn’t say anything in response, he didn’t seem in any hurry to leave the small laundry room. In fact, she was suddenly aware of how close he was to her, and of how alone they were even though she could hear the kids’ voices coming from the kitchen. Not that she wasn’t aware of him every time she saw him, but now she found herself noticing the deep chocolate shade of his eyes, the fact that he’d apparently nicked himself shaving that morning—and how fresh and puckered that scar was.

When her gaze touched on the scar, something flared in his eyes and he took a step back.

Before he could speak, Fiona said hurriedly, “What about you? Before…Iraq. Were you career military?”

For a moment he didn’t answer, and she thought he wouldn’t. Then, with obvious reluctance, he said, “No. National Guard. Before, I was an engineer.”

“Really?” Oh, no; had she sounded surprised? Please God he hadn’t noticed. “What kind? Did you design bridges?”

“I was a mechanical engineer. Mainly robotics to increase workplace safety.”

“From that to innkeeper.” She’d meant the words to be light, but she could tell he didn’t take them that way.

A muscle spasmed in his jaw. “That’s right. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He walked away, his limp pronounced.

Why had her asking about his past distressed him? Had he had some kind of breakdown when he got back from Iraq? Like the Vietnam vets who’d gone to live in the woods? Was the only difference that he’d been able to afford to buy this place?

The kids were all in the kitchen, Willow as usual looking shy and apart from the group, Erin equally apart but serenely so. John was nowhere to be seen. Fiona carried a basket upstairs and collected dirty clothes.