was nothing. Too
much alcohol.”
“ Okay.
Goodnight.”
Katie hugged her pillow
and traced back over her nightmare, trying to figure out who the
strange faces belonged to. I’ve got to
stop watching Criminal Minds and start watching reruns of Andy
Griffith or something. This is getting ridiculous. Who the hell is
James?
Eight
“ What if they don’t like
me?” Katie asked as they drove down I-84 toward Branson’s
home.
He gave Katie’s fingers a gentle
squeeze. “Are you serious? They’re going to love you. Trust me,
they’re very laid back, and will welcome you with open arms. You do
like cats, don’t you?” Branson asked, hopeful.
“ Oh, yes, I love cats,”
Katie lied. She’d always been deathly afraid of cats.
“ Good, because we have
twenty-seven of them . . . indoors.” Branson could hardly contain
the smile that played at his lips. He remembered Katie’s ridiculous
fear of cats and couldn’t resist teasing her about it now. When he
heard her swallow the lump in her throat, he guffawed. “We don’t
have any cats.”
“ You’re an arse.” Katie
folded her arms and tried not to laugh.
“ So you’re British now?”
He laughed and squeezed her hand.
“ Humph. It’s a good thing
you’re so devastatingly handsome, sir, or else . . .” Katie turned
on the radio and found a station playing The xx.
“ Devastatingly handsome,
huh?” Branson grinned widely, exposing his dimples. Katie wondered
how she would keep her hands to herself in the presence of his
parents, if he was capable of turning her on with just a
smile.
“ By the way, you should
know that Gram is British. She has also won several medals for her shooting
skills.”
“ You jest.”
“ No, I’m serious, she was
born in London.”
“ And she’s an excellent
marksman?”
“ No,” Katie smiled. “I
made that up. Payback for your cat tales.”
“ Pun intended?” Branson
laughed.
Three hours later they were winding
down a long unpaved driveway enveloped by ancient pine trees. The
contrast of the deep green against the white snow was beautiful.
The thick shade of the forest eventually thinned, revealing a
stunning rustic home of stone, brick, and wood.
“ Wow.”
“ Do you like it? Wait till
you see the back.” He smiled and turned off the engine. “Ready?” he
asked, opening Katie’s door and offering his hand.
“ Yes.” She smiled and
checked herself in the reflection of the car window, smoothing a
few strands of hair back into place and pinching her cheeks for a
little color.
Before he could get his key in the
door it flew open and they were greeted by his mother, sister, and
little Jackson. “You’re here!” his mother sang, before wrapping her
arms around her son. “Come in out of the cold.”
“ Mom, I’d like you to meet
Katie. Katie, this is my mother, Celia.”
“ Hello, Katie. I’m so
pleased to meet you.” Celia Stone was kind and welcoming. She had
short, dark hair, brown eyes, and the same deep dimples as
Branson.
“ Thank you so much for
having me this weekend, Mrs. Stone. It’s just lovely
here.”
“ Oh, please, call me
Celia.” She smiled.
Branson took his eager nephew into his
arms and introduced him next. “This little wiggle worm is Jackson,
and this is my sister, Jennifer.”
“ Hi, Katie, it’s nice to
meet you.” She hugged Katie, surprising her, but it had felt good
to have his sister’s approval so quickly.
“ Where’s Adam?” Branson
asked.
“ He couldn’t come. One of
his clients is angry because their ad ran in the wrong time slot,
so he has to fix it—or kiss butt rather.”
“ You must be starved. I
have lunch ready in the kitchen,” Celia said, walking
ahead.
Following Celia to the kitchen, Katie
took in the house, noticing the lodge theme throughout. Large
wooden beams crossed the ceiling, framed the cream walls, and lined
the doors and windows. As they passed through the living room,
Katie felt the warmth radiating from a
much alcohol.”
“ Okay.
Goodnight.”
Katie hugged her pillow
and traced back over her nightmare, trying to figure out who the
strange faces belonged to. I’ve got to
stop watching Criminal Minds and start watching reruns of Andy
Griffith or something. This is getting ridiculous. Who the hell is
James?
Eight
“ What if they don’t like
me?” Katie asked as they drove down I-84 toward Branson’s
home.
He gave Katie’s fingers a gentle
squeeze. “Are you serious? They’re going to love you. Trust me,
they’re very laid back, and will welcome you with open arms. You do
like cats, don’t you?” Branson asked, hopeful.
“ Oh, yes, I love cats,”
Katie lied. She’d always been deathly afraid of cats.
“ Good, because we have
twenty-seven of them . . . indoors.” Branson could hardly contain
the smile that played at his lips. He remembered Katie’s ridiculous
fear of cats and couldn’t resist teasing her about it now. When he
heard her swallow the lump in her throat, he guffawed. “We don’t
have any cats.”
“ You’re an arse.” Katie
folded her arms and tried not to laugh.
“ So you’re British now?”
He laughed and squeezed her hand.
“ Humph. It’s a good thing
you’re so devastatingly handsome, sir, or else . . .” Katie turned
on the radio and found a station playing The xx.
“ Devastatingly handsome,
huh?” Branson grinned widely, exposing his dimples. Katie wondered
how she would keep her hands to herself in the presence of his
parents, if he was capable of turning her on with just a
smile.
“ By the way, you should
know that Gram is British. She has also won several medals for her shooting
skills.”
“ You jest.”
“ No, I’m serious, she was
born in London.”
“ And she’s an excellent
marksman?”
“ No,” Katie smiled. “I
made that up. Payback for your cat tales.”
“ Pun intended?” Branson
laughed.
Three hours later they were winding
down a long unpaved driveway enveloped by ancient pine trees. The
contrast of the deep green against the white snow was beautiful.
The thick shade of the forest eventually thinned, revealing a
stunning rustic home of stone, brick, and wood.
“ Wow.”
“ Do you like it? Wait till
you see the back.” He smiled and turned off the engine. “Ready?” he
asked, opening Katie’s door and offering his hand.
“ Yes.” She smiled and
checked herself in the reflection of the car window, smoothing a
few strands of hair back into place and pinching her cheeks for a
little color.
Before he could get his key in the
door it flew open and they were greeted by his mother, sister, and
little Jackson. “You’re here!” his mother sang, before wrapping her
arms around her son. “Come in out of the cold.”
“ Mom, I’d like you to meet
Katie. Katie, this is my mother, Celia.”
“ Hello, Katie. I’m so
pleased to meet you.” Celia Stone was kind and welcoming. She had
short, dark hair, brown eyes, and the same deep dimples as
Branson.
“ Thank you so much for
having me this weekend, Mrs. Stone. It’s just lovely
here.”
“ Oh, please, call me
Celia.” She smiled.
Branson took his eager nephew into his
arms and introduced him next. “This little wiggle worm is Jackson,
and this is my sister, Jennifer.”
“ Hi, Katie, it’s nice to
meet you.” She hugged Katie, surprising her, but it had felt good
to have his sister’s approval so quickly.
“ Where’s Adam?” Branson
asked.
“ He couldn’t come. One of
his clients is angry because their ad ran in the wrong time slot,
so he has to fix it—or kiss butt rather.”
“ You must be starved. I
have lunch ready in the kitchen,” Celia said, walking
ahead.
Following Celia to the kitchen, Katie
took in the house, noticing the lodge theme throughout. Large
wooden beams crossed the ceiling, framed the cream walls, and lined
the doors and windows. As they passed through the living room,
Katie felt the warmth radiating from a
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