Snowbound by Kristianna Sawyer Page B

it
would keep her father and his film crew from arriving for at least
a couple more days. Beth planned to get on that plane when it
headed back to Endline, or whatever hole-in-the-wall it went to
next. If she had her way, the wheels would barely touch the landing
strip before she’d be on it, waiting for takeoff. The idea of
spending some time with her dad while he might be a semi-captive
audience was already a bust, and she sure wasn’t sticking around
when the opportunity to escape presented itself. It wasn’t as
though Blair Wyndam would notice her absence anyway. He’d barely
masked his impatience at having to deal with her unexpected
arrival.
    A tear streaked down her cheek then, and she
swiped it away. By now, she should be used to his brusqueness and
lack of attention. Her mother had tried to gently dissuade her from
the “surprise,” but Beth had ignored her advice to wait for a
better time. There was never a better time with her father.
    Maybe that’s why she was taking Reed’s
behavior so badly. It was just another rejection. God, did she have
Daddy Issues that she was trying to work out by getting attention
from an older man? The thought turned her stomach, and she quickly
shook her head, knowing that wasn’t true. Whatever drew her to
Reed—and it sure wasn’t his charming personality or sunny
disposition—had nothing to do with him being remotely
father-figure-like. She wanted him in a purely female fashion, the
way a woman wanted a lover, not a father. There was nothing muddled
about her feelings. It was lust, pure and simple.
    How could it be anything else? Reed would
clearly never open up to her, and she was done extending overtures
toward him. She would move on, consign this interlude to a distant
place in her memory, and keep looking for a man who made her body
sing the same way he did. She squashed the voice at the back of her
head whispering that no other man had ever made her feel this way
before. Of course they hadn’t. She was only eighteen. There was
plenty of time to find someone who came close enough.
    That thought was dissatisfying, and she tried
to clear it, and all the other thoughts, from her mind. Putting
aside the e-reader, she turned off the lamp and lay down. There was
still some light from the alarm clock on the nightstand, enough to
reassure her she wasn’t in total darkness, so she closed her eyes,
breathed deeply, and halfway mediated herself to a light sleep.

    She awoke sometime later from a nightmare she
barely remembered. Instinctively, her eyes sought a source of
light, but found none. Beth fumbled for her phone or e-reader,
knowing either would give her some illumination, but couldn’t find
them in the dark. Her hand brushed against something on the
nightstand and sent it crashing to the floor.
    Still somewhat caught up in her dream,
combined with the total darkness and the fierce sounds from
outside, she panicked. Beth thrashed around in search of her phone
or e-reader, irrationally fearing getting out of bed to try to feel
for whichever she had dropped on the floor. Her hand connected with
the lamp and sent it flying. It hit the wall with a crashing sound
that made her cry out with surprise.
    Torn between the need for light and the need
to hide, she huddled back under the blankets and tried to calm her
racing heart. Cautiously, she extended a hand from the covers,
groping on the nightstand until she finally recognized the shape of
her phone. Clutching it like a lifeline, she swiped the screen just
as her door crashed open.
    Beth screamed, pressing herself against the
headboard, while holding the phone out as though it would ward off
her attacker.
    “It’s me,” said Reed, sounding gruff.
    Her thundering pulse slowed, and she dragged
in a deep breath. A second later, she was vaguely aware of the bed
dipping as he sat down beside her, but she was still too caught up
in the aftereffects of fear to either welcome him or tell him to go
away. With bald honesty, she