Snow Kissed

Chapter 8

I never invested in men. Not emotionally, not financially and rarely, physically.

But I had become invested in Ean Hunter.

The part that scared me? It had taken me less than forty-eight snowed in hours to get there.

I walked forward into the room and the more I investigated, the more evidence I saw of her and the baby. It was all towards the back of the room. He'd been slowly piling random items and using the room as storage to hide it all.

I reached out and touched the pile of receiving blankets as they lay crammed in a box. My fingertips navigated over the items, taking in more and more things as my eyes came across them.

My step paused; There hadn't been a baby in the pictures, but there should have been!

I rushed out of the room, needing evidence of the child. I moved quickly, running down the dark hall and into the living room.

My hands were frantic as I came back to the nightstand and I ripped it open. I pulled out the photos and sat on the bed and then I started to flip through them.

There wasn't a baby.

People took pictures of their children, or at least I thought they did!

I got through all forty or so images and dropped them to the bed in defeat. Sighing, I looked around the room, starting to notice things I hadn't before.

The things on his dresser, knick-knacks. They weren't the manliest of items. The bedspreads, a delicate pattern of cream inlaid flowers.

“Shit.” I couldn't believe I'd been so blind!

He hadn't hidden her at all. She was everywhere in the house, I just hadn't been looking.

I stacked up his photos neatly and put them back, noticing a manilla envelope. My fingers paused and I pulled it out. Flimsy. Nothing.

I peeked inside and then my heart stopped.

I couldn't do this. I put it all back and slammed the door of the nightstand. To say I was stunned would be putting it lightly. I was far more than stunned, I was in shock.

I dropped my forehead to my palms and took a few moments to process. I needed something to do. I couldn't just sit in silence while he was gone in a snow storm all because of me.

All I really wanted was Elizabeth. God, I wanted to hear my best friend's voice. She was always fairly reasonable, most of the time anyway.

My feet dragged as I walked back into the living room. Looking around the neat house, I moved around it. I needed to look at everything to see how much I had missed.

And I had missed a lot.

Just like the bedroom, she was there.

I stopped at the bookshelf near the kitchen and studied the items it housed.

Novels.

Romances.

I pulled one out. I was confused why she read them; she had apparently lived the tales. Her husband was more than charming and caring, he was also hot as all hell. I choked on my thought and slipped the novel back on the shelf, looking over a shelf full of records.

Skimming them, my eyes caught something I thought I would never see again in my life. I ripped it off the shelf and stared down at the old Christmas record.

My mouth went dry as I tried to swallow.

I pulled the record from the wrinkled cardboard cover and looked it over. It was the exact same one my mother used to play every year at Christmas. My throat swelled and I tried to keep the emotion at bay, after all, I chose to be alone.

I wanted to hear it. On the far side of the dining area was the player. I was quick to it and hoped I could figure it out, it had been far too long.

It crackled to life and I adjusted the volume, a small smile on my lips from the familiar music. My eyes closed from the smooth tones, but my moment was interrupted by the sound of a loud machine-saw like sound.

I walked to the back windows and looked out, squinting through the falling snow. My eyes fell on a large shop out the back that I hadn't noticed earlier. There was smoke billowing out of the top and that's where he was.

The saw went off again.

“What the--” I pressed her nose against the cold glass, trying to get a better look at the building. Upon more noise from the power tools, I realized he wouldn't be coming back in the house for an extended period of time and I turned the music up to occupy my thoughts. Turning to the kitchen with quick steps, my agitated fingers were antsy to work.

What did one do when they were snowed in?

Well, I was hungry for one, and two, what was worse, I was sorry.

“Strudel.”

~~~

I grabbed a handful of flour and sprinkled it across the granite.

This was the fourth batch.

Fourth.

I was hoping Ean liked strudel because that's all I could cook. It's the only thing my mother had ever taught me or maybe it was the only thing I'd ever taken the time to learn from her. Either way, I was hoping he would enjoy it, cause I didn't want to have to eat it all myself. That really would mess with my pricey gym membership for the past year.

I popped the last batch in the oven and started to clean.

I never cleaned. I had a housekeeper come in once a week and when it came to cooking, take out and the daily deli were my main course of action. I had to admit, though, with no distractions of work, my cell phone going off or emails coming in; cleaning seemed peaceful and calming.

I glanced at the timer, wiping my hands on the apron I had on. It was already two in the afternoon, Ean had been out in that shop for literally hours on end. I was beginning to question his sense of time, considering the amount of snow that continued to fall.

Deciding to go out there, I borrowed anything necessary to drag myself through feet and feet of fresh powder. I stepped out and started along the side of the house, trying to avoid the high banks of snow, however, that was quickly not an option as I dragged my five foot six frame through the drifts.

I was confused how he'd gotten to the shop in the first place. I tripped three times and was covered in so much snow, I could barely move.

Finally, I reached the shop and came to the door. It was closed tight and I hoped it wasn't locked because I wasn't sure if he would be opening it for me.

I stepped under the overhang of the roof, almost out of the snow. My feet, hands, and face were all numb and bright red and my hair had started to frost. I pushed open the door in hopes of warmth, the loud sound of the saw filling my ears.

Spotting him right away, at the far side of the shop, his back was turned to me and he was covered in the dust from where he stood cutting wood.

My eyes followed the path of more wood and projects. This is why Ean Hunter did not have television.

“Wow...” I breathed. He was an impressive carpenter. Who would have known, saving people and carpentry?

I looked over a nearly finished dresser and armoire.

The saw stopped and my eyes snapped to his broad shoulders.

He turned around, pulling his ear protection to his neck and looking over a tool. He stopped dead when he saw me.

“What are you doing in here?” He walked across the shop and started to fiddle with the tool on a workbench. He fluffed his light brown hair and pulled at his shirt, releasing dust in all directions.

“Umm.” I tried to get it together. “I didn't know you were here.”

He grumbled, not answering me.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying another angle that made me feel a bit domesticated.

“Nope,” he answered in a gruff voice.

“Oh because--”

He dropped something and it made a loud slap, “I can't get my radio to work. I tried. Sorry.”

For some reason, knowing I'd have to stay there was relieving. “Ean, look--”

“Go back to the house. I'm busy.”

I huffed as he walked away, not giving me a chance - not that I really deserved one.

“Ean, I'm sorry! I had no idea.” I winced from my outburst. Of course, I had no idea, all I had done was assumed he was a cheating, lying asshole.

His ignoring tactics were right on par, either that or he was that shaken up about what had happened between us.

“Ean, please,” I begged as I came up beside him. I looked over what he was carving, I didn't know what it was going to be, but it was beautiful. “You're really talented.”

He dropped what he had in his hand and turned to me. “Go in the house, Amy.”

“I really am sorry, though. I couldn't have guessed she was dead.”

“Amy, just get in the damn house!” his voice got louder, closer to that yell in the house.

“Can't we just talk about it?” I tried to reason with him, losing all my vice president suave.

“No, Amy, there's nothing to say.”

“But...” I tried.

“Amy!”

“Well, fuck, Ean!” I argued back, “I'm making a huge effort here.”

“What do you want an award?” he shot, “For trying to take back being a huge bitch to me!”

My eyes flew open as I lost all my composure and slapped his chest with all my strength.

Solely focused on me, his nostrils flared and I watched as that expression got the best of him. He came to me and crushed me against his work bench, kissing me so hard, it hurt.

My body became paralyzed, my heart near stopping in my chest as his mouth parted from mine.

I sputtered on what to say, my mouth blubbering, unable to make a sound. He looked down at me with alleviation, studying my blue eyes.

My staggered breathing didn't help improve my vital signs, the realization of that possibly being the best kiss of my whole life shattered the rest of my ability to function.

His hands slipped from my waist and he stepped back, rubbing a hand through his thick hair. “I shouldn't like you this much.”

I stared at him, my heart slamming in my chest.

Like me how much?