Snowbound by Kristianna Sawyer

hoping to dispel some discomfort. As she did so, she
noticed Reed had put the camisole back on her at some point.
    He was nowhere to be seen, but she stretched
to turn on the lamp, whimpering at a hot pain shooting through her
cut as she did so. The illumination lit up the room, except for the
dimmest corners, verifying he wasn’t there.
    With interest, she looked around his room,
finding it neat and tidy, but lacking almost all traces of personal
touches. The walls were paneled wood, and the navy carpet matched
the bedding. A serviceable dresser made from raw timber, complete
with knotholes and whirls, was in the corner. A massive stone
fireplace made up one wall, complete with the seemingly
standard-issue fur rug before it. The only personal mark he’d added
was a bookshelf in the same kind of wood, filled with an assortment
of paperbacks, and one row of hardbacks.
    Moving slowly, she eased out of bed, stopping
first to seek out the facilities. Selecting the door that didn’t
lead to the hallway, she found a small bathroom, similar in design
and dimensions to the one in the guest quarters. After taking care
of practicalities, she returned to his room and went to the
bookshelf, perusing the choices. There was an eclectic mix of
bestsellers, horror, mysteries, a few nonfiction titles, and even a
couple of romances.
    The sight of a photo album crammed in the
corner of the bottom shelf, beside a hardback copy of one of
Stephen King’s novels, caught her attention. Feeling a little
guilty, she bent down to pick it up, wincing at the stretching in
her chest. Clasping the book under her right arm, she returned to
the bed, taking a moment to bury her face in the pillow to inhale
his scent. It was earthy and male, both raw and sweet.
    With a small sigh, she positioned the pillows
behind her and put the album on her lap. She flipped through the
pages, finding most empty. There were some of him as a younger man,
and even a few as a kid, though no baby pictures. She saw a few
pictures of a little girl who shared similar features. The last
page was a picture of Reed in his Army uniform, surrounded by eight
guys. Some of them stood at attention, but a few were laughing, or
just turning their head in a way that suggested this picture had
been shot immediately after a formal pose.
    Her heart melted at the big grin on his face.
He looked younger, of course, and more carefree, as though not as
much had weighed him down. Beth didn’t know a lot about the Army or
squads, but she assumed the men surrounding him were his comrades
who had fallen in Kandahar.
    The door opened, and she looked up from the
photo album to see Reed entering with a tray in his hand. It was an
incongruously domestic sight, especially with the younger, military
image of him still in her mind. She offered a tentative smile.
“Hello.”
    He inclined his head, his expression hard to
read. “Thought you might be hungry.”
    Her stomach rumbled in reply, and she nodded.
“Starved.”
    Reed frowned as he set the tray on the
nightstand. “Snoopin’ through my stuff, girl?”
    “Yep,” she admitted, unabashed. He’d brought
her to his room, so that was an invitation, of sorts. “You looked
good in your uniform.”
    He ignored the compliment to lift the book
from her lap. At first, she thought he was angry, but then his lips
quirked into a small smile at the picture of him and his buddies.
“Those were some good times. Hard, but good. We was close, just
like family.” Reed touched the edge of the picture for a moment.
“That squad was like my brothers.”
    Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his hip,
the only part easy to reach. “Are they the ones…?”
    He nodded, his expression aloof for a moment.
“It was an ambush. They all died.”
    She’d already conveyed her condolences the
first time he’d mentioned them, so she offered an awkward pat
instead. He endured it for a moment before stepping away from her
to take the album back to the shelf. As he slipped