be forced to impose on Jonas Stone and his less-than-enthusiastic hospitality longer than anyone had anticipated.
And there was the matter of her car. What was she going to do about her car? Even after she got it fixed, what then?
She’d planned on moving into Scott’s condo after the wedding, so she’d relinquished her apartment in Charlotte. At this moment, she was essentially homeless.
But ever the optimist, she rallied. Life could be a whole lot worse than being trapped in a luxurious lodge in front of a cozy fire with Hunter the little cowboy, the motherly Deirdre Fielding and Jonas, the hunky but unfriendly cowboy for company.
Yeah, like I could be married to a man in love with my sister. Or still lost on a remote mountain road in a blizzard. Chased by wolves... Eaten by bears...
If Jonas Stone hadn’t come along, no one might have known what happened to her. She’d have been missing, presumed dead by her family.
Until her frozen corpse was found after the spring thaw. Maybe even by Jonas. Then he’d be sorry for being so snarly...
Although, if he’d never come along in the first place, he could hardly have regrets. She shook herself.
Whatever. No point in interrupting a great story—based on real events—with the facts. MaryDru jokingly claimed that, despite not being biologically related, it was AnnaBeth who’d acquired Victoria’s flair for the dramatic.
Sinking once more into the cushion, she propped her chin in her hand. Maybe she should consider adding a podcast next year to Heart’s Home...
“Mom’s got your room ready, AnnaBeth.”
Jolted, her chin fell out of her hand. Jonas, minus the heavy coat, stood beside the chair.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you heard me come downstairs.” He rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows and revealed forearms thickly corded with muscle.
Both of them turned at the sound of Hunter clomping down the steps.
Jonas made a wry face. “No mistaking him, is there?”
Her lips curving, she wagged her finger at Jonas. “Don’t talk about my favorite little guy like that.”
The little cowboy tromped over. “Hey, Miss AnnaBef.” He grinned.
She ruffled his short-cropped hair, and unfolded from the chair. “Your mother mentioned dinner. I can help out.”
Jonas rubbed his jaw. “I think she’s got it under control, so you’ve got time to change into dry clothes. Let me take your coat.”
“Um...” She bit her lip. “My coat?”
Jonas gave her a quizzical look. “Yes, your coat.”
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, Deirdre emerged from the rear of the lodge.
Jonas held out his hand. “I’ll hang your coat in the mudroom off the kitchen.” The family, including little Hunter, looked at her, waiting.
So with great reluctance, AnnaBeth unbuttoned her coat and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. Letting his hand drop, Jonas gave an audible gasp.
Deirdre pursed her lips. “Well, that explains the bow.”
AnnaBeth pushed the bow out of her eyes.
Hunter fingered one of the floating ruffles flaring out below her knees. “Soft.” He smiled at his dad. “She is pwetty, isn’t she, Dad?”
Jonas’s eyes darkened. “Why are you wearing a wedding dress, AnnaBeth?”
“’Cause she’s a snow bwide, Dad. Our snow—”
“Hunter.”
She winced at Jonas’s clipped tone.
From the sudden chill in his manner, she could well imagine what he thought of her. Flighty. Shallow. Harebrained. Lacking substance. Or worth.
He wouldn’t be the first. Her family—with the exception of MaryDru—were charter members of the Don’t-Be-Ridiculous-AnnaBeth club.
Deirdre swallowed. “Oh, honey. On top of everything else that happened today, it was supposed to be your wedding day, too?”
AnnaBeth’s cheeks flamed. “It sure hasn’t turned out to be the day I expected.”
His face inscrutable, Jonas stepped back a pace. “Where’s your groom?”
She bit her lip. “Back in Charlotte.”
Jonas and his mother exchanged glances.
Deirdre patted Hunter’s shoulder. “Why don’t you help me set the table for dinner? You can put out a special place for AnnaBeth.”
He smiled. “Okay, Gwam-ma. I’m so happy you’re here early, Miss AnnaBef.” He hugged her legs.
Early? Not daring to look at his father, she wrapped her arms around Hunter, inhaling the sweet little-boy scent of him.
Jonas pulled at his arm. “Go with Gramma, Hunt. Please.”
Letting go of her, Hunter followed his grandmother beyond the long pine table in the adjacent dining area toward the door AnnaBeth guessed led to the lodge kitchen.
Jonas took the coat from her. “AnnaBeth?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. She really didn’t want to get into what had happened between her, Scott and MaryDru. She didn’t have the emotional energy to go into it. Her wedding debacle wasn’t any of his business.
And then Jonas Stone surprised her.
“The guy’s a total jerk to have jilted you at the altar,” Jonas said, his gravelly voice slightly fierce. “You know that, right?”
Scott jilting her wasn’t exactly what took place. She opened her mouth to correct Jonas, but stopped. After declaring his love for her sister, that was exactly what Scott had been about to do. Only she’d beaten him to the punch and run away first. Jonas didn’t need to know the embarrassing details of her never-got-off-the-ground marriage.
Despite evidence to the contrary, she still had a few tattered remnants of pride. Everyone who mattered already knew what happened. Anyone else was on a need-to-know basis. And Jonas fell into the category of “most definitely didn’t need to know.”
Besides, give or take twenty-four hours, she’d never see him again. That thought descended upon her with unexpected gloom. But Jonas wasn’t done surprising her.
“Small consolation—trust me, I know—but you’re better off without him.” Her coat clutched in his large hands, he wrung the garment as if he wished it was Scott’s neck. “You’re better off not hitched to a loser like him for the rest of your life.”
A curious mixture of simmering fury—not directed at her, but on her behalf—and compassion filled his dark eyes. She gaped at him. And reminded herself to breathe.
No one had ever defended her supposedly injured honor so vigorously before.
“Don’t worry about your car. My cousin, Zach, owns the auto-repair shop in Truelove. I’ll get him to tow your car and find out what’s wrong.”
She didn’t know what to say. And for once, surprising herself, she said nothing.
But like a bottle finally uncorked, Jonas continued to speak.
“Storm’s likely to last all night, but until the roads are plowed, no one can get on or off the mountain. Worst-case scenario, we could be snowed in here for a few days.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We’ll sort everything out. I promise.”
A veritable avalanche of words. Jonas would be exhausted tomorrow, no doubt.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted his about-face. He said he