Page 38 of Solo

“Really, I’m fine. Thanks. But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where are you going to sleep? I’m in your bed,” she reminds me, looking suddenly alarmed that she’s kicked me out of my bedroom.

“Nah. I’ll crash on the couch. I do that a lot, anyway. I like to sleep by the fire. But you come downstairs—or, better yet—call down to me if you need anything. Otherwise, you just sleep in as long as you like tomorrow. Okay?”

She nods her understanding and I walk to the bedroom door. My hand is already turning the knob when I stop and turn back.

“And, Katherine, you can call me Drew.”

Chapter Seventeen

Kate

It’s close to ten in the morning when I finally feel rested enough to wander downstairs. Either that, or my body just can’t resist the amazing smells that are wafting up from the first floor. When I follow my nose to the kitchen, I find him standing in front of the big stove, cracking eggs on a griddle in the middle of the burners.

“Hey,” I say.

He looks at me over his shoulder and smiles.

Nice.

“Hey yourself. How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Much, much better,” I assure him. “That extra ten hours of sleep seems to have done the trick.”

And it has. I was too exhausted—and confused—to continue our conversation last night. To discover that Drew Markham was engaged to Russell and Maureen’s daughter and that the poor woman was so distraught that she killed herself… It’s just more than I could process. And, I think, more than he wanted to continue discussing.

I walk to the window, taking in the winter wonderland outside. Except, it looks more like the frozen tundra. There are only flurries blowing now, but there must be more than four feet piled up in some spots.

“No way you’re getting out of here today,” he says, reading my mind. “Or anytime soon, for that matter.”

He’s not kidding. I can’t even distinguish the hump that was once my car. It’s just part of the huge snowdrift that contains the curb, the mailbox, and the hedges. I give a long, low whistle.

“So I slept through the whole blizzard?” I marvel.

“Well, yes and no,” Markham says, flipping some bacon. “Why don’t you have a seat at the table? How about some eggs and toast? Do you think your stomach can handle that?”

As if on cue, it growls loudly enough for him to hear it across the room. His eyebrows go up and he smiles again.

Double nice.

“Or maybe you’d like something more substantial? I can throw in some bacon and home fries if you want.”

“I want.” I smile broadly and sit where he’s already placed a carafe and a mug. I pour myself a cup of tea while he starts pulling items out of the fridge. “So, what do you mean, ‘yes and no’?”

“Ah, well. Yes, you slept through the first blizzard. No, you haven’t slept through the second blizzard.”

I set the carafe down with a dull thunk on the table.

“Wait. What?”

He nods as he empties a bag of potatoes, peppers, and onions on the other side of the griddle.

“Yup. The only thing worse than a storm of the century is two of them. We’re getting a quiet day today, but there’s another blast heading our way early tomorrow morning.”

“No, not possible!” I squeak in dismay.