Jessica Lemmon - A Snowbound Scandal

God, he made her crazy .

He’d been breathing down her neck since that unfortunate run-in with one of Chase’s sworn political enemies. Emmett had watched over her like a hawk since. She’d been so aware of his presence lately, she looked forward to any event that didn’t include him. Yet here he was.

“This doesn’t count as Thanksgiving,” Stef dropped her napkin on her empty plate and her mother, who’d been insisting she take the serving spoon, dropped it back into the mashed potatoes with a sigh.

The chef-prepared meal—Mom didn’t cook—was top-notch. Golden, buttery turkey, stuffing, French green beans, and a gravy boat brimming with brown gravy. There was only one problem.

“Thanksgiving isn’t for another two weeks. This is just...” Stef shook her head. “Wrong.”

Emmett grunted what might’ve been a laugh and she sliced him with a glare. He shoveled another bite into his mouth and chewed.

“Why is he here?” she asked the table collectively.

“Rider. Remind your daughter she is to have manners in this house.” Elle looked over at her husband.

“Stef, sweetheart.” Her dad smiled. “We’re all making sacrifices. You think I want to be on a boat during my favorite holiday of the year?”

“It’s a cruise ,” her mom corrected.

“Em’s here because he can’t turn down a free meal,” Chase said conversationally.

Emmett grunted again. Stef guessed that was his way of agreeing with his friend.

Neanderthal.

“It doesn’t seem right for everyone to leave during Thanksgiving.” Sacrilegious, even, but she didn’t want to be melodramatic. But honestly, did tradition mean nothing to anyone but her? Chase was vacationing at a lake in Montana by himself; Zach and Pen were traveling with their daughter Olivia to visit Pen’s parents in Chicago, which was, okay, fine , excusable; and her parents were going to be floating in the Atlantic Ocean wearing bathing suits and drinking mai tais.

“I’ll be here,” Emmett offered.

“Lucky me.” Stefanie mimicked his sarcastic smile and he went back to his food. She’d rather eat a microwaved frozen meal by herself than take him up on a shared turkey-day dinner.

“Stef, my parents would love to have you if you want to come to Chicago with us.” Pen lifted her fussing daughter from the high chair. Zach shot his wife a look that said they hadn’t talked about this.

Her brother’s wife was sweet and thoughtful and sharp and beautiful. If Zach hadn’t pulled his head from his rear and married Pen, Stef would’ve seriously considered it. Penelope Ferguson had granted them all a beautiful niece-slash-granddaughter, and Pen’s presence at parties made Stef’s life a lot brighter. As much as she’d love to hang with Pen over the holidays, however, Stef would never dream of intruding on Pen’s time with her family. This would be their first Thanksgiving with Olivia.

“I appreciate that,” Stef smiled over at her sister-in-law. “But I’ll be all right. I’ll just...decorate for Christmas early.”

“You mean late,” Zach said. “You barely waited until Halloween last year before you adorned everything that crossed your path in red, green and gold.”

Stef curled her lip at her brother. Zach smirked.

“If you change your mind, let us know.” Pen excused herself from the table to take care of Olivia and Zach stood with her.

“Need help?”

“No, I have her.” She kissed him and he smiled, adoration on his face.

So. Stinking. Sweet.

“I’m not inviting you to Montana.” Chase scooped more mashed potatoes onto his plate. “So don’t ask.”

“I don’t want to spend Thanksgiving with you, anyway,” she teased.

He pointed at her with his fork when he said, “Good.”

Her oldest brother had always looked out for her, had always been there for her. She could guarantee if she wanted to abscond to Montana with Chase, he wouldn’t hesitate taking her along. But he deserved a break, too. There’d been so much fatigue in his eyes tonight. Must’ve been a hell of a week in the mayor’s office.

“How are you spending the holiday, Emmett?” Elle asked.

“I’ll be on call. Security never sleeps.”

Stef eyed him over the rim of her water glass, trying to decide if that was true or not. She didn’t know Emmett that well, only that he and Chase had been friends for years, and that Emmett was part of the backdrop of nearly every big event in recent history. She assumed that behind those hulking shoulders and permanent scowl of his, she’d find a loner who worked 24/7, and not much else. He didn’t seem to have a life other than one involving the Ferguson family.

Not five minutes later, Penelope returned without Olivia, explaining her daughter had missed a nap and was too tired to deal with dinner.

“It’s Zach’s turn so I’m off the clock.” She refilled her wineglass with dark red wine and gestured to Stef with the tipped bottle. “Join me?”

“Always.” Stef allowed Pen to fill her glass, feeling a ping of loneliness. Stef was used to her family being around, to big parties and to-dos year-round. Save when Zach had lived in Chicago for a stint, they’d been together as a family most of the time. The business they held stakes in kept them in each other’s orbit.

So, yeah, Stef wasn’t used to being alone, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be. This year she’d embrace Thanksgiving on her own and build that muscle.

It was time her family started seeing her as a twenty-nine-year-old anyway.

Two

Bundled in her knee-length pea coat, Miriam Andrix marched up the asphalt-covered parking lot, her head down to thwart the icy wind. She was born and raised in Montana, but every winter she experienced here made her a bit less tolerant of the cold. Which was ridiculous. She was only thirty-three, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t as if she was her seventy-five-year-old grandmother who kept the thermostat set on eighty degrees at home.

She peeked up from her trudge so that she didn’t mow over a shopper who’d just overspent on groceries, and then tucked her chin again and watched her laced boots move her forward. Her destination? Whole Foods Market in search of fixings for sweet potato pie, as assigned by her mother. This was the first year Miriam had been placed in charge of dessert. Typically, she made a side dish like potatoes au gratin or cranberry sauce.

Mom’s rules were anything but simple when asking her four children to participate in the preparation of Thanksgiving dinner: no canned ingredients, organic if you can. She also provided the family recipe cards for the requested dish—tweaked by each generation to add an extra dash of cinnamon here or an additional crushed garlic clove there. And since Miriam was responsible for a dessert she wasn’t comfortable making, she wasn’t taking any chances on shopping at the corner market. She might well spend her entire paycheck in here, but at least she could guarantee that only the most beautiful sweet potatoes would go into her pie.

At the entrance of Whole Foods, the automated doors swished aside and the fragrant scent of mulled cider wafted out. She lifted her head and closed her eyes to inhale her most favorite scent—autumn—when a competing smell mingled with the cider.

Sandalwood. Pine. A touch of leather... And eerily familiar. As was the voice that crashed into her like a runaway shopping cart.

“Mimi?”

She snapped her head up and her gaze collided with a man taller than her by several inches, his devastatingly handsome face broken up by the frown on his forehead and additional lines at the corners of his gray-green eyes. His jaw sported a barely-there five o’clock shadow, and his hair was in the same disarray she remembered from ten years ago—the one crooked part of Chase Ferguson that couldn’t be tamed.