Snow Falls by Gerri Hill Page A

slipped around her waist as Jen nestled against her shoulder, her warm breath tickling Ryan’s neck. She lay still, afraid to move, afraid to touch. But that need to feel someone—Jen—touching her was too much. She lifted her shirt slightly, nearly moaning as Jen’s hand—even in sleep—found its way to her warm skin. It was torture but still, such a sweet torture. She relished the contact, and it was enough, just having Jen touching her. She relaxed, feeling herself drifting to sleep when Jen moved again. The hand that had been resting gently on her skin tensed, and she knew Jen was awake, knew Jen was aware of the position of her hand. Ryan waited, preparing herself for Jen’s withdrawal, for her retreat. It never came. Instead, Jen’s hand relaxed again, and Ryan was surprised to hear a satisfied sigh as Jen burrowed against her once more.

Chapter Fifteen
     
    Jen stared out the window, amazed by how much snow covered the deck. The storm had passed, leaving only flurries in its wake, and now the sun was peeking through the ever-decreasing clouds. It was nearly noon, but she’d only been out of bed a couple of hours. She felt totally wiped out and couldn’t find the energy to get up and moving. Yes, that was the only reason she stayed in bed. It had nothing to do with the embarrassment she felt when she woke. Not only was her hand still tucked snugly under Ryan’s shirt, she found Ryan wide awake and looking a bit amused by the whole situation. And why not? Jen had been practically lying on top of her. With as much grace as she could muster, she’d rolled off Ryan and dutifully turned her back as Ryan got out of bed. She remained under the covers, telling herself she was too warm and comfy to get up, despite the raging urge she had to visit the restroom.
    Only when she heard Ryan leave with the dogs did she venture out. A scribbled note left on the bar told her not to worry, no matter how long they would be gone. They were apparently going to the ridge to check out the snow depth.
    A few pieces of bacon remained on the stove and she nibbled them while she sipped her coffee, all the while trying to keep her thoughts on a neutral subject. Unfortunately, they kept returning to the scene in bed. Yes, she knew where her hand had been. Yes, she should have removed it when she’d woken up the first time. But it felt too good.
    That was the problem, wasn’t it? It felt too good. And she wasn’t used to feeling that way.
    She turned away from the window, feeling her pulse quicken. What’s happening to me? But she shook her head. There wasn’t any need to pretend, was there? Not any longer. She just didn’t know what to do about it. Yes, okay, so she was attracted to Ryan. That didn’t mean anything. She was stuck here with her; she had to rely on Ryan for everything. That was all it was. A form of the Stockholm Syndrome perhaps. Of course, she wasn’t a hostage, so did that really apply? She laughed at the direction of her thoughts, thankful she could find some humor in her situation.
    She turned to the door when she heard Ryan and the dogs outside. She heard Ryan knocking snow from her snowshoes. She knew the dogs would be waiting to be let inside. She knew the door would open and the dogs would run in, and she knew that Ryan would pause to stomp her boots on the mat. She knew their routine like the back of her hand.
    When the door opened, the dogs burst in, running to her and bumping around her legs as they vied for attention. She petted them both equally, then shyly glanced up at Ryan.
    “How do you feel?”
    Jen nodded. “I’m good. Felt nice to sleep in.”
    They were both quiet, their glances darting around the room, landing anywhere but on each other. Jen finally motioned to the kitchen.
    “Coffee?”
    Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Please.” Ryan followed her, leaning a hip against the counter as Jen poured coffee for them. “We had about three feet of snow,” she said. “The trail was buried again. I’m