Snowed In by Rachel Hawthorne

the 69
    roller into the pan and started painting the wall again.
    “Care to share?”
    “Cross-country skiing is wildly popular.”
    “Slight problem there. I’ve never been on skis.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Hello? Texas? We don’t get a lot of snow.”
    “I can’t imagine.” He glanced over at me.
    “What’s winter without snow?”
    “Warm.”
    He laughed really deeply, shaking his head. “I don’t see the point.”
    “Well, I’m having a bit of a problem seeing the point to winter.”
    He arched a brow.
    “The season,” I added. I was beginning to see a point to Josh Wynter . He was someone to talk to.
    “Is your dad a comedian or something?” I asked.
    He turned around, grinning. What was it with the Wynter guys that they were always grinning?
    “Actually, he does a stand-up routine down at one of the pubs on amateur night.” He grimaced.
    “It’s pretty bad. Why?”
    I shrugged. “My mom seems to laugh a lot when he’s around. I guess he’s practicing.”
    “Not if she’s laughing. Trust me. No one laughs 70
    at his jokes. They’re pretty lame. But for some reason, he knows how to make our customers laugh.”
    “So my mom’s not special?” Was Mr. Wynter going to break her heart?
    “He likes people to be happy. Why get bent out of shape about that?”
    “I’m not bent.” I resented that he thought I was. “I’m just not used to hearing my mom laugh so much.”
    “You say that like laughter’s a bad thing.” It was if my mom got hurt. I sighed. She was a big girl, she could take care of herself. After all, she’d survived a major breakup.
    “You should try it sometime,” he added.
    “I’ll have you know I laugh plenty.”
    “I don’t think plenty means what you think it does. It means often, a lot—”
    “I know what it means. I’m a laugh a minute.
    Ha, ha. And I’ll laugh again in another minute.” He just stared at me like I’d totally lost my mind. Maybe I had. Chase had thought I was cute when I’d said almost the same thing. I didn’t know why it had worked with him and not Josh. Time for a serious subject change.
    “So, are you, like, one of the five students in the junior class?”
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    I’d researched the single school on the island so I knew that each classroom had two grade levels in it—until eighth grade. So students at different levels intermingled a lot more here than they did back home.
    “Nope. I’m one of the six in the senior class.” Oh, an older guy. Intriguing. I crossed my arms, leaned against the wall.
    He grimaced. “You probably shouldn’t have done that.”
    “Oh, shoot!” I pulled away from the wall, bringing a good deal of the paint with me. “You could have posted a sign.”
    “I thought it was pretty obvious that wet paint was going on the walls.”
    “Well, still . . .”
    He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Step aside.”
    I did as he ordered, watching while he rolled fresh paint over the mess I’d made.
    “I’m going to go change,” I mumbled.
    “Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll come to your room.”
    My heart thudded. “Excuse me?”
    “To take measurements for those shelves.”
    “You were serious about making them?” I asked.
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    “Sure.”
    “Okay, then.”
    “Don’t get too excited.”
    “What do you want me to do? Hug you?” His eyes seemed to darken, then he shook his head and turned back to the pan. “Just holler when it’s okay for me to come up.” I backed up a step. “Give me ten.”
    “Ten?”
    “Minutes. Just come up in ten minutes.” Which, under normal circumstances, was all I would have needed, except my cell phone was ringing when I got to my room. I took off my paint-splattered clothes as fast as I could and answered the phone right before it went to voice-mail. It was Tara.
    “Hey,” I said, holding the phone to my ear with one hand, while scrounging through a stack of clothes on a chair with the other.
    “The fudge arrived and omigod!” she exclaimed. I