Snowed in with Her Ex

Bree took a deep breath and pulled herself together. Reacting to Ian didn’t help either of them. “I’m sorry to hear your relationship is less than ideal,” she said in her most formal, detached voice.

Ian’s gaze ran over her face for a moment before he spoke. “Yeah. Me, too,” he said, turning on his heel and disappearing into the other room.

Three (#ulink_be370607-6638-5326-94df-103a2f0323a2)

“Gretchen, I’ve made a big mistake.”

Bree had made a quick getaway to her bedroom after her encounter with Ian. She’d needed some personal space to clear her head and purge her lungs of his scent. She’d hauled her bags up the stairs and selected the room with a wall of windows overlooking the valley below. The queen-size four-poster bed had a gray velvet brocade comforter and navy silk curtains to enclose the bed if she chose.

That wasn’t a bad idea. The room was luxurious and spacious. Perhaps she should just wrap herself up in a silk cocoon and stay here until the snow melted. She could forage for food in the night while Ian slept and maybe squirrel away a box of crackers or something to keep up here. Maybe then they could stop antagonizing each other.

After closing the door, she’d grabbed her phone and dialed one of her friends and business partners, Gretchen. Natalie would be horrified by the entire situation. Amelia would want to talk about Bree’s feelings. But she just wanted to vent to someone who would listen, then tell her to put on her big-girl panties. That was Gretchen—their calligrapher, invitation and program designer and wedding day jack-of-all-trades.

“I hear you’re snowed into a million-dollar mountain house. I really feel bad for you.”

That was one way of looking at it, but it was getting harder and harder to remember that fact. The house was beautiful; every inch was filled with expensive furniture, detailed stone craftsmanship and state-of-the-art electronics. Her bedroom was nicer than some five-star hotels. “Did Amelia leave out the part where I’m stuck alone with the groom?”

“No, she mentioned that. Why does it matter? Is he creepy? Or a jerk?”

Bree hesitated. “No, he isn’t creepy. But he is my...uh...ex from college.”

“What?” Gretchen’s sharp voice nearly climbed through the phone to smack her upside the head.

“Shh!” Bree insisted. She had no doubt that Gretchen was in the office and she didn’t need her shouting to draw the others. “No one can know, okay? Especially not Natalie. She’ll flip out.”

“It sounds like you’re flipping out. Is that what the thing Monday was about? Why you were so interested in the Missy Kline wedding?”

Bree frowned. “Maybe. It caught me off guard to find out he was getting married. And to her, of all people.”

“So now you two are trapped together. What’s going on that you’re not telling me? You sound really wound up. The guy is getting married. And to Missy Kline! There shouldn’t be an issue, even with your past together. Wait...you haven’t tempted him away with your worn-out Converse and your messy ponytail, have you?”

“You hush,” Bree snapped. She felt bad enough comparing herself to Missy; she didn’t need Gretchen’s help. “It’s a proximity problem. We didn’t exactly part well and being together after all this time...”

“Don’t pick at the scabs, Bree.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but considering I’ve known you for eight years and have never heard of you dating this guy, I figure you’re picking at an old wound that should’ve healed a long time ago. You need to leave it alone or you’ll reopen it. That’s not the best idea when you’re trapped in a house together. What good will it do to stir all that stuff up again, anyway?”

She was right. Nothing Bree said or did this weekend was going to change anything. When the snow melted, she would drive back to Nashville and resume her work. Ian would do the same. He might not be rushing home to reunite with the love of his life, but he would still go home to Missy and the baby. She had no doubt of that.

In college it had taken months to get Ian to open up to her about his family. He hadn’t been much for talking about his personal life. It had been easier for him to communicate through song lyrics, but that had left no room for questions. That was probably how he’d liked it. But eventually, Bree had worn him down. He’d told her about how his father had bailed when his mother got pregnant. As he spoke she’d seen a haunting look of rejection in his eyes that Bree would never forget. Even though it really had nothing to do with him, he’d said he thought, deep inside, he wasn’t good enough for his father to want to stay.

His college advisor echoing the same sentiment about Ian’s musical abilities had been like a knife to his soft underbelly. He’d been defenseless to the attack and when it had come down to it, Ian had believed the man’s words because he’d believed he wasn’t good enough. Nothing Bree could say or do would’ve changed nearly twenty years of feeling inferior.

And nothing that happened this weekend would change the course Ian was on. He wouldn’t do the same thing to his own child, even when the thought of being with Missy made him frustrated and desperate.

“It will do no good whatsoever,” Bree answered Gretchen.

“Then steer your ship like you’re in iceberg-filled waters. Stay diligent, keep your eyes open and avoid a collision. Eventually, you’ll make it to port in one piece.”

“Yeah,” Bree said, her voice not sounding particularly confident.

Gretchen sighed. “Are you still attracted to him?”

The pointed question instantly flustered Bree. “What? Attracted? I mean, no, but then again, he’s still... Yes,” she spat out at last. “Because I’m an idiot.”

She was still attracted to him. And she shouldn’t be. It was so ridiculous. Her libido had flamed on like the Human Torch the minute she’d laid eyes on him again. The same libido that had been mostly ho-hum for the men she’d dated over the years. It was incredibly frustrating to find her body betraying her, especially over someone so unobtainable.

It was like her body remembered him. Nine years had done little to erase the claim he’d left on her. Just one touch and she was nearly putty in his hands again. Begging him to kiss her with pouty lips. Ignoring the fiancée unable to make it up the mountain...

“You’re not an idiot. You just need to get laid.”

Bree nearly choked. “Pardon?”

“You’ve just been working too hard with the gallery showing and all those post-Christmas engagement photo sessions. No time to play. And you haven’t mentioned going on a date in forever. Maybe you should look into doing some online dating. It could help take the edge off.”

That wasn’t an entirely bad idea. Walking into Ian’s house after months of celibacy had left her at a distinct disadvantage.

“Maybe you’re right. If I keep my head down, I can make it through this.” Even as she said the words, she didn’t really believe them. She was a mess and it had only been... Bree looked down at her watch. Six hours. Only six hours with Ian had put her every nerve on edge. What would a few days do?

“Just remember,” Gretchen said in a tone mocking the ever-proper Natalie, “keep it professional and keep it classy.”

“Yeah.” Bree snorted with contempt. “I’ll do that. I’ll call you later.” She hung up and flopped back onto the bed. She closed her eyes, startling herself when the image of Ian hovering over her, midthrust, popped into her mind.

She shot up with a start. That settled it. She was going to lock herself in the bedroom. Bree pulled a book from her bag and set it by the bed. Investigating the large, marble, brass and glass tile bathroom, she decided that tonight she would crawl into her large whirlpool tub for a long, hot soak and read a book. She always lost herself in stories, so it would be an excellent distraction from Ian.

A disgruntled rumble sounded from Bree’s belly.

So much for locking herself in the bedroom. She’d been up here a half hour and the rumblings of hunger pangs had already begun. She’d stopped for a quick bite on the road to follow up the granola bar she’d scarfed down before she left her apartment, but that had burned off. She could distract herself by unpacking her things and assembling her toiletries in the bathroom, but that would buy her minutes, not hours.

She needed to eat. And more important, she needed to desensitize herself to Ian. Perhaps the more they were together, the easier it would be. Either way, she couldn’t ignore the inevitable. Eventually, Bree would have to go back downstairs and face him.

* * *

“Okay, I’m officially starving.”

Ian looked up from his laptop to see Bree in the kitchen, searching the cabinets. He’d spent an hour or so staying as far as possible from her and focusing on work. After what had happened this afternoon, that seemed like the best idea. He wasn’t entirely sure what had gotten into him. He’d been angry with Bree only moments before, and then suddenly, he had needed to touch her.

Relationships weren’t exactly Ian’s strong suit. He’d actually had very few that he’d even characterize as “relationships.” He’d only been in love once, with Bree, and that whole thing had bitten him in the ass. From then on, dating had taken a backseat to work, and emotions usually had no role in the process. But he’d never been unfaithful to a woman. That just wasn’t in his blood. Besides, he was usually too busy with work to make one woman happy, much less two or three.

But here, now, for the first time, he was tempted. So tempted. How many times over the years had his thoughts strayed to Bree and where she was and what she was doing? And then to have her practically dropped into his lap by a weird twist of fate and weather...

Time had been good to Bree. He watched as she opened every single cabinet door, making thoughtful sounds as she moved around the gourmet, U-shaped kitchen. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, giving Missy a run for her money—and without three hours in the hair and makeup chairs to get there. She still had long honey-gold hair, which at some point today she’d pulled it into a messy knot at the back of her head. Her baby-blue eyes were just as bright. The freckles across her nose had faded, but she still had the same charming smile.

She looked almost exactly the way she had when she’d been his. It was hard for his brain and his body to recognize that was no longer the case. When his fingertips had brushed across her pink lips, they’d parted seductively, nearly begging him to kiss her. And he’d wanted to. Man, he’d wanted to.

Which was why he’d walked away. Why he had to stay away from Bree Harper.