Snowbound

“No, I suppose not. I should warn you, though, that unless they’re reined in, my group may challenge your capacity. Have you ever had a lodgeful of teenagers before?”

He seemed to shake himself. Or had he shuddered?

“Yes.”

“They shower a lot. They’re awfully conscious of how they look.” And smell.

“I remember.”

She sniffed. “Did you bake that bread fresh this morning?”

“Figured we’d need it.”

“Did you ever go to bed?”

His big shoulders moved. “I get up early.”

She opened her mouth.

“No more thanks.” Was that a trace of humor in his eyes? Or was she imagining it?

Like the living area with its enormous, river-rock fireplace, the kitchen was vast, the cabinets rustic, the floor slate. There was plenty of room in the middle for a table that would seat at least twenty.

Almost at random, she chose a red plaid flannel shirt from the neat piles on the table. “If you’ll excuse me…?”

He stepped aside.

Clutching the shirt, she hurried upstairs. Ugh. Nothing like letting a man you’d barely met see you first thing in the morning.

Willow had joined the others, and called after her, “I want a bath, too!”

“I had dibs on it.”

She locked the door and started water cascading into the tub before she noticed a cut-glass bowl of bath beads on an antique wood commode situated perfectly to hold a glass of wine, say, or candles.

The tub was definitely big enough for two.

She dropped a white bead in, and soon the scent of gardenias filled the steamy air.

She ached as if she’d competed in a triathalon yesterday. Sinking into the hot water was heavenly. The foot of the tub was slanted, and she barely held her chin above water. She actually floated, and gave a moan of pleasure. Someday, she, too, would have a bathtub like this.

If the water hadn’t cooled, she might never have been able to make herself get out. That, and the realization that her stomach was rumbling. She’d barely had a bite or two last night, and the hamburger she’d eaten at three-thirty or so yesterday afternoon seemed like an awfully long time ago.

Her bra would do for another day or two, but she added her panties to the pile in the corner and slipped on the jeans. She would offer to do the wash; somehow, the idea of the handsome, scarred stranger downstairs plucking her dirty panties from the pile and dropping them in the machine was too much for her.

The flannel shirt, well-worn, hung to midthigh and she had to roll the sleeves four or five times. Fiona dried and brushed her hair, leaving it loose around her face, then hung her towel on a rack and left the bathroom.

The sound of running water came from behind the closed door to the boy’s bathroom. Someone else was up, then.

When Fiona stopped in the door to the girls’ bedroom, Willow jumped up. “My turn.”

Erin had appeared now as well, and she shrugged. “I have to go get something clean to put on first anyway.”

As usual, she looked exquisite this morning, her black hair glossy in a plait, her skin smooth. Fiona had never seen her break out in acne, sweat or even frown. The only adopted child of a cardiac surgeon father and a mother who designed exquisite linens that sold at high-end department stores, Erin was invariably composed and quiet. She was a straight-A student and the star of the Knowledge Champs and Hi-Q teams, but no more than a ripple on her brow would show when she made a mistake or was outmatched. Fiona often wondered if she was anywhere near as serene as she appeared, or whether she suffered from the pressure of having to live up to such high-achieving parents.

Fiona made a face. Big assumption on her part. Maybe Erin’s parents were easygoing despite their career successes. Fiona had only met them once.

“Sleep well?” she asked, as they went downstairs.

Erin nodded. “Except Willow kept talking in her sleep.”

“Could you understand what she was saying?”

“Once in a while. But it didn’t really make sense. Like once she said, ‘Why did you fall down?’ And when I asked what she was talking about, she said, ‘You fell over that blue thing.’”

Fiona laughed. “That sounds pretty normal. Dreams hardly ever make sense.”

“I guess that’s true.” At the foot of the stairs, she looked shyly at Fiona. “Do you ever have ones where you can fly?”

“Not fly, but bounce. And stay up for a long time. Do you actually soar?”

“Uh-huh. Everything’s tiny below.”

Somehow that seemed rather aptly to symbolize Erin, who often kept herself apart from her peers. Fiona didn’t remember, for example, ever seeing her with a boy.

“Does the dream worry you?” she asked carefully, as they entered the kitchen.

“No.” Her voice was very soft. “Except I’m scared of heights. So it seems weird.”

Yes. It did.

“You okay rooming with Willow?”

“Sure. Are these the clothes we can borrow?” Far and away the most petite of the girls, she lifted garments until she found a turtleneck that was clearly a woman’s. More from the lost and found, Fiona surmised.

Unless it belonged to John Fallon’s currently absent wife.

“Come and get some breakfast after you’ve had your bath.”

Erin nodded and left Fiona alone in the kitchen. She sliced bread and popped two pieces in the toaster, then gazed at the small paned window beyond which she saw nothing but floating white flakes.

“Can I get you some eggs?”

Fiona jumped, turning. “You should clear your throat when you come into a room.”

He lifted his brows. “Like a butler? Ahem, ma’am?”

She laughed at him. “Exactly.”

“I feel like a butler some of the time. Invisible.” He looked surprised at his own admission.

“You own the lodge,” Fiona protested.

“But guests feel as if they’re paying for me to wait on them. Which puts me in the servant class.”

“Really? Do they talk as if you aren’t there?”

“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.

Going back through the kitchen, she said, “Boys, you get KP duty this morning. When everyone’s done eating, it’s your job to wash the dishes.”

Inevitably Hopper grumbled, “Why us?”

“Because we’re all going to take turns.” She surveyed the table. “Tabitha, Erin and I are going to make lunch. Willow, Kelli and Amy will do the lunch dishes. Dinner we’ll discuss when it gets closer.”

Smiling, she left them groaning and whining. Some of them had looked shocked enough, she had to wonder if they were required to do chores at home. That was the thing with a ritzy private school—the kids came from a whole different world than the one in which she’d grown up. They were more sophisticated in many ways than the teenagers with whom she’d gone to school. They compared Thai food at a restaurant to food they’d had in Thailand, snorkeling off Belize to experiences on the Barrier reef. They wore designer clothes, had every electronic gadget and drove BMWs the minute they turned sixteen.

But there were also huge gaps in their knowledge. They spoke of maids instead of having to carry out the garbage. She doubted most of them knew how to mop a kitchen floor or scrub a toilet. Maybe even how to wash dishes, although they were smart kids—they’d figure it out. They seemed not to have been expected to be responsible for much of anything. She had one student in her U.S. History class who’d wrecked two cars since March, and both times his parents had just bought him a new one.

Many of her students were great kids; some, like Erin, were clearly driven. But others were spoiled and simply marking time. She had two this year in Knowledge Champs that she suspected were merely padding their résumés for college: Amy and Troy. Amy was also one of the weakest participants. But Troy was different.

As a senior, he was on the A team. He was smart. But she’d also found him to be lazy. He often missed practice. His grades were top-notch, but when she looked at his file she saw that he had participated in very few extracurricular activities in his first three years of high school. That had changed this fall, when he joined Knowledge Champs and won a part in the fall musical.

Well, it wasn’t her business, but it would be interesting to see how they responded to her expectations if they were stranded at Thunder Mountain Lodge for long.

And even more interesting, she decided, as she set the washing machine to a normal cycle and started picking out light-colored garments, to see whether John Fallon opened up to her—or started hiding out in his quarters.

Of course, she shouldn’t care, considering she’d never see him again after the snowplows came through. What was it he’d said? I prefer the solitude. But then, with the way he looked at her sometimes, she wondered whether that was true.

Would he tell her how he’d been hurt if she asked? Or would he be offended by her nosiness?

She frowned and closed the lid on the washer. Probably the latter, and she wouldn’t even blame him.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was an enigma: an intelligent, well-educated man who’d presumably had a high-paying job and yet was now cooking and cleaning up after strangers at this remote lodge, glad when he had his midweek solitude. A man who hid his pain, who had been dismayed by the sight of the woman and kids on his doorstep but had been kind in large and small ways since then. He was a man who looked as if he badly wanted to kiss her, and yet he seemed to have forgotten how to flirt.

More assumptions on her part, Fiona thought with a sigh as she headed back to the kitchen to see how the kids were doing with cleanup. She was tantalized by him, so, ergo, he must be attracted to her.

Because she was so irresistible, of course.

Another sigh. She was pretty on a good day, which this was not. True beauty, she’d never achieve.

Face it: she was unlikely to have a shot at learning what had wounded John Fallon psychologically as well as physically. And, honestly, even if the attraction was reciprocal, where would they go with it, living several hours apart as they did?

Stick to fixing the kids’ problems.

“Watch it!” she heard one of the boys say, followed by the crash of a dish shattering on the slate floor.

Fiona winced and hoped the man she’d been obsessing about was out of earshot. Clearly she would have to supervise the kitchen crews.

It might have been far more interesting to have been stranded here without eight teenagers.

GETTING THE KIDS out the door was a chore, even after John went to the effort to round up a fair selection of parkas, gloves, hats and several pairs of boots. One girl—Amy—didn’t want to go. John was sympathetic until she started to whine.

“It’s cold.”

“Come on, you gotta be on my team,” Hopper coaxed.

“I don’t like getting cold.”

“But you ski!” one of the other girls said in apparent surprise.

Her lower lip was getting pouty. “Not when it’s snowing like this.”

Troy Thorsen grabbed a hat and put it on her, pulling it down over her ears even as she shook her head madly, fighting him. “You have to come out, or we won’t have even sides.”

She yanked it off and threw it at him, her eyes flashing. “I don’t have to do anything.”

Their teacher intervened. “No, you don’t. Amy, if you’d rather stay inside, that’s fine. Mr. Fallon has a good library. You can pick out a book and read in front of the fire with me.”

“But, Ms. Mac!” the skinny kid protested. “Aren’t you coming out?”

“Are you kidding? Not a chance.”

“Bummer,” somebody muttered.

Kelli sniffed and pointedly turned her back on Amy. “Let’s just go out. It doesn’t matter if sides aren’t even.”

“Yeah,” a couple of them agreed. All began zipping parkas and donning hats.

Amy smiled at Hopper, the boy she’d been hanging on. “You could keep me company. We could play a game. Or, like, explore the lodge.” Be alone, her tone promised.

Yanking on gloves, he missed the full wattage of her smile and possibly her implicit promise. “Nah, it’s going to be cool out there. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Standing to one side, John saw anger flare on her face.

Then, “Oh, fine!” she snapped. “I’ll come already.” She appropriated a parka the girl in braces had been reaching for, picked out a faux-fur headband that left her hair to ripple down her back and chose gloves.

“Cool!” Hopper declared, as oblivious to the cold-shoulder she gave him now as he’d been to her earlier, flirtation.

Coatless—she’d loaned hers to one of the girls—Fiona followed them out onto the porch. “Remember, you’ll stay right in front. I want to be able to see all of you whenever I glance out.”

“Yes, Ms. Mac,” they all said dutifully, meanwhile rolling their eyes.

Shaking her head, she came back inside and shut the heavy front door. “Want to bet on how long they last out there?”

“I’m going to say ten minutes for the one who didn’t want to go.”

She laughed. “Hopper may live to regret not falling in line.”

“Or be very, very grateful he ticked her off early on.”

This smile was wry. “Amy is a bit of a handful. She’s an only child, which doesn’t always mean spoiled…”

“But in Amy’s case does,” he said bluntly.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” She seemed perturbed at the idea of criticizing one of her charges. “I’m an only child myself.”

Interesting. He wouldn’t have guessed. Nodding in acknowledgment, he changed the subject, “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Can I help?”

He shouldn’t succumb to temptation. Spending time alone with her wasn’t smart. But she was not only the first woman to interest him since he’d landed stateside, she was also the first person of either gender he’d had any inclination to talk to.

So he said, “If you want to clean bathrooms.”

He was ashamed of himself for sounding ungracious. She’d been more than generous in getting the whole group to help out. Once upon a time, he’d known how to make pleasant conversation. Not so long ago. Before…

John willed his mind to go blank.

Fiona helped hold him in the here and now. “Our bathrooms?” She sounded horrified. “We can clean them ourselves.”

“We’ll just do a quick swipe. Before your charges come in and need hot baths again.”

“Oh, dear. They will, won’t they?” She nodded. “Fine. But they won’t have made their beds, either, and we’re not doing that for them.”

She sounded so fierce, a trace of amusement stirred in him. He hardly recognized it. He’d lost his sense of humor along with so much else in Iraq.

Climbing the stairs, he asked, “Are you going to be in trouble over this?”

“With the school, you mean?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know. I hope not. I did call my principal before we left Redmond, and he agreed that it made sense to take the alternate route. And it wasn’t snowing, and forecasters were off by hours about when the storm was supposed to reach this far north.”

She wasn’t trying to convince him, John guessed, but rather herself.

Her voice went quiet. “Maybe I deserve to lose my job. We could have all died. I used poor judgment.”

He’d been harsh yesterday, and now felt like the worst kind of hypocrite. His own misjudgment had resulted in horror. Maybe she’d been lucky, but her error had been mild in comparison.

Besides… He’d been surprised himself yesterday afternoon to walk out of the grocery store and see snow falling so soon. His own drive back to the lodge had been treacherous.

They’d reached the hallway above.

“I suspect there are travelers stranded all over. You may not be the only Knowledge Champs team that got in trouble. From what you said, high schools all over Oregon had sent kids.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no! I didn’t even think about that. Two groups came from Portland and one from Lincoln City over on the coast. What if…?” She pressed a hand to her throat.

“Nothing you can do about it.” Okay, that didn’t help, John saw immediately. He tried again. “Eight kids is enough for you to take responsibility for.”

“I can’t help worrying. Oh, I wish we could get some news coverage!”