A Gift of Snow by Missy Maxim Page B

the machine. He was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, the
blanket draped over him, when I walked out.
    Amazingly, it was only around eight o’clock.
“It’s a bit early still. I have movies.”
    “That’s a nice tree,” he said, looking at the
Christmas tree in the corner. “Smells real.”
    “Of course it’s real. I’m surrounded by
forest. My mother and sister were supposed to be here tonight,
but--”
    “The storm. Isn’t it a pain all winter,
havin’ to shovel snow off the driveway just to get your car
out?”
    I sat on the other end of the sofa. “Can be,
with a heavy year, but I like it up here. It’s peaceful, I have
good neighbors, the air’s clean… Lee and I came up for a weekend
once, saw the house for sale, and knew this was where we wanted to
be. Just me now, though.”
    “It is a nice place. Cozy. I’m more the urban
type.”
    “Gee, wouldn’t have guessed.”
    He chuckled, a rich sound. “Guess it is a bit
obvious. Nothin’ wrong with a getaway now and again, but I get
bored. And small towns don’t offer much for musicians.”
    “There is that. Are you looking to get
rich?”
    “Nah, just work steady. Wouldn’t say no,
but…as long as my belly’s full and the rent’s paid, it’s really
about the music. Sharing that harmonic connection.” He shifted to
face me more easily. “What do you do, Jennifer?”
    “I’m a writer. Fiction, now, though I used to
do op-ed stuff in college.”
    “What genre? Maybe I’ve read something.”
    “I really doubt it.” He didn’t look like the
type to read sci-fi.
    “Naughty romances?”
    “Why do men always have to jump to
that conclusion?” I snapped.
    “Sorry! My mistake. I was just teasing,
love.”
    I released a breath. “I’m sorry. Touched a
nerve.” Lee wanted me to switch to a genre that paid more, back
when. “It was hard to find a publisher.” And they had me
write under a non-feminine pseudonym.
    “So…what’s your niche, then?”
    I chewed my lip. “Science fantasy. Sometimes
for teens.”
    “Oh. Well, you’re right. I’ve never read it.
So, space age stuff, with aliens and distant planets?”
    “Sometimes. Living here helps with the work.
Few distractions.”
    “Makes sense. Are you working on a book
now?”
    “Not for a while. I’m on a break.” More like
the muse dove off a cliff.
    “Ah.”
    We lapsed into silence, watching the crackly
movie. I studied him out the corner of my eye. He was built nice,
if you liked the slim look. Visible muscle definition through the
snug shirt. I hadn’t looked close enough to see what color his eyes
were, yet. His hands were large, dwarfing the mug in his grasp,
with long fingers and short nails.
    “Do you think it’ll snow all night?” he
asked.
    “Maybe. Even if it doesn’t, the plows won’t
come out on the roads until daylight.”
    “So, I’m stuck here. All night.”
    I let out a slow breath. “So it would
seem.”
    A young, attractive man in the house all
night. Woo, boy. No awkwardness there…
    He broke the silence first. “Want you to know
you’re safe. Not a murderer or rapist or anything. Love women,
actually.”
    I arched a brow. “And they love you?”
    He laughed. “Sometimes. Not enough to stay.”
He dropped his eyes to his mug. “What about you? You mentioned a
name.”
    “Lee. My husband.”
    “Oh. Couldn’t make it home for
Christmas?”
    “Not since he rolled his car off the mountain
and died,” I said. Oh god…why did I say that? “I’m going to prepare
the guest room.” I fled to the spare room to prepare his bed.
    I couldn’t believe I blurted it out like
that. God, what he must think of me…what he must think I think of him for asking. Stupid, stupid, stupid…
    “Hey.” He stood in the doorway.
    “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry for the personal question. It was
none of my business. I’d offer to go, but…”
    “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t know
why I said that.” I sighed. “My husband died ten months ago. He