Cathy Thacker - Snowbound Bride

Everyone looked at each other. After a moment, they all began to grin and talk at once. “It really is obvious,” someone put in finally.

A farmer in overalls and a bill cap chuckled merrily. “The pretty lady here and Gus had a fight—”

“He was probably late getting out of the city—like he said on the phone just now,” added a woman in a parka and jeans.

“And then, naturally, their plans got all messed up—” a teen Kimberlee’s age said.

“Who wouldn’t be ticked off?” a white-haired woman put in indignantly. “Gus should have put her—and their impending nuptials—first on their wedding day.”

“Typical Gus, though,” said a nicely dressed young woman with a toddler in tow. “Business first, then pleasure.”

Another woman, in an upscale running suit and sneakers, chuckled. “’Course, he makes up for it when he does party. There’s no one who can throw a bash like Gus!”

Nora threw up her hands in frustration and broke into the conversation. “For the last time, everyone! I am not engaged to Gus Whittaker!”

“Not anymore,” a handsome young man in construction clothes said, grinning and nodding at the bare ring finger on Nora’s left hand.

“Don’t worry, honey, when he shows up and proposes all over again, I’m sure he’ll bring you your ring,” an older man added.

“Unless…” Clara paused, a worried look on her face. “You didn’t throw it away in a fit of pique, did you?”

“No, I didn’t throw it away!” Nora exclaimed stiffly as she tightened her grip on her package and started to brush by Sam. “Because I never had a ring from him in the first place.”

Kimberlee Whittaker gasped as Sam stepped back slightly to allow Nora to pass.

“All the more reason to delay the nuptials, then,” Kimberlee said indignantly.

“Really,” another woman added fervently, in support. “Gus should get you a ring, and we—his friends and neighbors—will make sure he does.”

Nora groaned, and shot a glance at Sam, who was still regarding her with an interest that had little, if anything, to do with local law enforcement. With an effort, she tore her eyes from his and turned back to the crowd gathered round her. “Trust me. If Gus shows up before I leave Clover Creek, and that in itself is doubtful, given the fact Gus’s still in New York City as we speak, Gus is not going to ask me to marry him. Not in a million years,” she promised them all firmly.

Sam Whittaker continued to contemplate her—and her current predicament. “The breakup was that harsh?” Sam asked, in a low, sexy voice that sent shivers down Nora’s spine.

“There was no breakup,” Nora said, looking straight at Sam, before finishing in utter exasperation, “We were never together.”

SAM KNEW no one else in the store did, but he believed Nora, for a variety of reasons. He also thought, from the guilty way she was flushing and the slightly nervous way she was behaving, that she was hiding a lot more than she was telling, and that she might need help. His help. In any case, it was almost certain that there were a lot of people worried about her.

Unlike Nora, however, he did not believe in running from problems; he knew predicaments were best dealt with directly. He hoped, before she left Clover Creek, to convince her of that, too. And perhaps reunite her with her friends and family, as well.

“Then who were you engaged to?” Sam asked Nora, aware that he really wanted to know not just that, but everything about her. Furthermore, he hoped she’d tell him more about herself, now that she’d seen firsthand how insatiably curious the small, friendly West Virginia community could be.

“I’d rather not say, Sam.”

“How about your last name, then?”

She glared at him for a moment. “I don’t see what that matters—”

“It does if you’re going to be staying here. Unless there’s a reason you don’t want any of us to know who you really are.” He was baiting her, anxious to see her reaction to that.

Nora’s mouth opened in a round O of surprise then snapped shut. She paused, looking as reluctant as any runaway would, but in the end, as he’d figured she would, came through.

“It’s Hart-Kingsley. Nora Hart-Kingsley. My mother’s name was Hart, my father’s Kingsley. I ended up with both family names. Satisfied?”

Sam grinned. “It’s a start,” he said. Although he would need a lot more than that, if he was going to be able to help her.

Dr. Ellen Maxwell stepped between Sam and Nora, swiftly introducing herself as the town physician before saying, “If you want me to put my two cents in, I think it’s just as well the nuptials get delayed awhile, anyway. The weather would not make it easy for any out-of-town guests—never mind the groom—to get here.”

“And besides, if you’re going to be a part of the Whittaker clan, you need time to get to know the rest of us, too,” Kimberlee said.

Nora regarded the people gathered around her. “Isn’t anyone going to listen to me?” she demanded, in obvious exasperation. Though they obviously meant well.

The group replied in unison. “No.”

Harold patted Nora’s shoulder in a comforting manner. “It’s okay, honey. We all know how to act stunned and amazed. We can do that for Gus. We won’t ruin his surprise for us.”

Clara smiled. “In the meantime, maybe you’d like to get out of that dress, and see about doing something to dry the hem and train—it looks a little damp, from where I’m standing.”

Good idea, Nora thought, if only because it’d stop all the wedding talk.

“The only problem is, there’s something wrong with the zipper,” Nora confided. “We may have to cut me out of it. So if I could borrow some scissors and enlist a little help, after I dash out to my car to get a change of clothes, I’ll—”

Clara patted her arm. “Now, now, I’m sure we can fix it without making any cuts in this beautiful fabric. Kim, darling, help Nora get her clothes out of her car and then show Nora to a dressing room and help her out of that gown.”

“Right, Gran,” Kimberlee said, giving a thumbs-up sign before leading the way.

“YOU’RE just going to have to ignore Sam,” Kimberlee told Nora as she worked on the jammed zipper in the back of Nora’s dress.

Nora turned, the trailing satin hem of her wedding gown swishing softly across the parquet floor of the large, old-fashioned fitting room. “What do you mean?”

Kimberlee tossed the length of her golden-brown hair off her shoulders. She paused and took a tiny drop of liquid soap and ever so delicately worked it into the teeth of the zipper. “I saw those looks he was giving you,” Kimberlee said, catching Nora’s glance in the three-way mirror before peering down at the zipper seam. “The way he questioned you.”

Nora flushed. “I think he’s just curious.”

Kimberlee shook her head. In an electric-purple jumper and ribbed white turtleneck, purple tights and cute leather ankle boots, she looked pretty enough to be on the cover of a teen magazine. “It’s more than that. He thinks it’s his job to take care of everyone!”

Alarm bells went off in Nora’s head. Perspiration broke her skin. “Because he’s the sheriff?” Nora asked warily—aware that she was flushing again, an even brighter pink.

“Because he’s Sam.”

“You’re saying he’s controlling?” Nora asked, as casually as possible.

“To the max,” Kimberlee affirmed emotionally. “It’s because of Mom and Dad and the way they—” At the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the fitting room, Kimberlee stopped short and stuck her head out into the hall to see who was there. Almost immediately, she flushed a bright red. “Sam!”