Ryan laughed. “Was that hard to do? To not ask your question?”
“Yeah. But I’ve decided that you have a right to your privacy and if you don’t want to talk to me about anything personal, then that’s your business. I’m not going to bombard you with questions anytime you do let something slip. Like college,” she added with a smile.
“I’m just not used to talking about myself,” she said. “Talking period.”
“That’s fine,” Jen said, feigning disinterest.
Ryan watched her as she appeared absorbed in reading. She was surprised by the words that spilled out from her. “I’ve been here two years. Before that, I bought an old mining shack at the edge of Aspen. Spent a couple of years fixing it up. But it wasn’t really isolated. Not like here.”
Jen didn’t move or lift her eyes, almost as if she was afraid to move, lest Ryan stop talking.
“I ran into my brother and his entourage on a ski slope one year and decided it was time to move on.”
At this, Jen did lift her head. “Are you estranged from your family?”
“I don’t know if I would call it that,” she said. “We had a bit of a falling out about ten years ago.”
“But you still talk to them? See them?”
“Talk to them? No, not really,” she said with a shake of her head. “I see them. Occasionally.” Because she had obligations, she reminded herself.
“But you’re not estranged?”
Ryan grinned. “That word just seems so melodramatic.”
Jen nodded but didn’t ask anything else about her family. “Why here? Why Lake City?” she asked instead.
“Aspen was...busy. But I wasn’t—”
Wasn’t writing
. “I wasn’t working,” she said.
“No editing gig there?”
Ryan shook her head. “I wanted someplace where I didn’t have to worry about tourists everywhere but also someplace where I could venture into civilization if I wanted.”
“Again, some hermit you are.”
Ryan was tempted to tell her the whole sordid tale but knew, after this much time, that Jen would probably be pissed to learn she was a writer. Not just a writer, but a Pulitzer Prize winner. Of course, Jen might remember the tabloid stories or have heard them, since she was in the business. She might even be one of those who believed a ghostwriter had actually penned the book. After all, her own family did
. Does.
Thank goodness, the Pulitzer committee didn’t. They had accepted the proofs she’d presented of her authorship, which had averted the disgrace of having them rescind the award. So no, she certainly did not want to hash all that over again. She stood, taking her laptop to her desk, ending the conversation.
“I’m going to take the dogs out.”
***
Ryan pulled the covers back on the bed, debating whether to turn the lamp off or not. Jen was in the bathroom and had been for an unusually long time. Of course, maybe she was simply avoiding her. Her mood had turned sour, she knew, and she’d stay out with the dogs longer than normal. When she returned, Jen had looked at her warily and Ryan hadn’t explained—or commented on—her abruptness. Thinking about that time in her life always put her in a funk. The betrayal of her family and their total lack of interest in the truth still smarted. She could still hear her mother’s laugh when one of countless reporters had questioned her. “A writer? Catherine? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Right
, she thought. Catherine Ryan-Barrett couldn’t possibly be talented enough to write a novel. She was an heiress with literary pretensions, nothing more. The tabloids ate it up, and her own mother kept stoking the fire. Any publicity was good publicity, as far as her mother was concerned.
She shook those thoughts away, knowing she had to quit dwelling on them. That had happened a lifetime ago. She needed to live in the present. And right now, that meant checking on her guest.
She paused at the bathroom door, listening. She heard nothing and knocked twice, softly.
“Jen? You okay?”
The door opened slowly, and Jen stood there, tears in her eyes. Ryan frowned, startled by the tears.
“What’s wrong?”
Jen looked down at the floor. “I started my period.”
Ryan hid her smile, not understanding. “I am a woman, you know. I’m familiar with it.”
Jen’s chest heaved with a sob. “I only have one tampon.”
Without thinking, Ryan pulled her into a hug, which only caused more tears. Jen buried her face against Ryan’s chest as she clung to her. It struck her that this was the first physical contact she’d had with anyone in more months than she could remember. It felt good to hold another woman again. Of course, she realized how terribly inappropriate that thought was.
“I have plenty,” Ryan said. “It’s no problem.”
“Yes it is. I’m eating your food. I’m taking up your space. And now I have to bum tampons from you.”
“And all of that is okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Jen murmured. “It just all hit me, I guess.”
Ryan squeezed her tightly, then pulled away. She tipped Jen’s head up with a finger under her chin, those beautiful blue eyes still swimming in tears. Involuntarily, her gaze drifted to Jen’s mouth, and she felt a jolt of arousal. She dropped her hand and stepped away, embarrassed.
Without another word, she went back to the bedroom and clicked off the lamp. Just a few minutes later, Jen came in, pausing at the edge of the bed.
Great. Now she’s scared of me again.
There was enough moonlight shining in that Ryan could make out her features. She looked like a goddess. After what seemed an eternally long time, Jen moved to her side of the bed. She quietly lifted up the covers, took off her sweatpants, then got in.
Ryan felt like a heel; she didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Jen said, her voice quiet in the dark room. “Your past is your past and it’s of no concern to me. It’s shaped who you are, but it’s still the past. If that’s what you’re running from, it’s not any of my business.”
Ryan smiled into the darkness. Innocent Jen had no idea how that hug had affected her. It was just as well. Jen turned her head, looking at her, but there wasn’t enough light for Ryan to read her features.
“The only thing that’s important is right now,” Jen continued. “And the future. So if you don’t ever want to mention anything about your past again, that’s fine with me.”
“I appreciate that. Although I wasn’t really apologizing for my abruptness this afternoon. I was apologizing for...well, for hugging you.”
“Why would you need to apologize for that? I was having a...a moment,” Jen said with a slight laugh. “I needed a hug.”
“A moment, huh? Should I be worried?”
Jen rolled to her side and faced her. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve never slept with anyone before. I mean, I haven’t been
able
to sleep with anyone, share a bed.” She paused for a moment, then continued, her voice quiet. “When I was a kid, at my grandparents’ house, I was the only one. I was homeschooled, I didn’t have friends. There were no sleepovers, slumber parties. And in college, I lived with Miss Ruby. She—”
“The bitter old woman who never smiled?”
“Yes, that one. I certainly never had anyone over there. I lived with her for four years. From there, I moved to Santa Fe. Got my own place.”
“So...Brad?”
“No. I mean, we tried, but—”
“Never?”
“I can’t sleep. I don’t want to call it an anxiety attack, but maybe that’s what it is. I can’t sleep. I can’t even close my eyes. It’s just strange having him in bed, having
anyone
in bed with me.”
“That must put a damper on your sex life,” she said, although she didn’t really want to talk about Jen’s sex life.
Jen sighed. “We don’t have much of a sex life as it is, so yes, that does have an effect on it. But I just find it odd that I don’t have that same anxiety with you.”
“The first couple of nights, you weren’t exactly bounding into bed,” she reminded her.
Jen laughed. “The first night I think I was more worried about you hacking me into little pieces than I was sleeping with you.”
“And you’re over that now, I hope.”
“Yes. It’s actually kinda nice sleeping with someone.”
“We’ll see there. When you get back home, maybe you can give Brad another try.”
Jen only sighed and rolled again to her back. “Maybe.”
“I can’t believe how warm it is,” Jen said. She turned in a circle, arms held out from her sides. “I mean, clear skies, nothing but sunshine.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Listen. You can actually hear the snow melting.”
“Yes. The wonderful signs of spring,” she said. They’d left their coats at the cabin. She had a sweatshirt on over her shirt. Jen wore one of the two sweaters she had.
“Are you
sure
a storm is coming?”
“Spring blizzards aren’t uncommon,” she said. “Twenty-four hours or so of a winter blast, then this again. The sounds of it all melting.” She eyed Jen who had a wistful look on her face. “It shouldn’t delay you getting out of here,” she said.
Jen turned to her. “Oh, I wasn’t worried about that. I was thinking about sledding.”
“Sledding?”
“All this snow. It’s like a giant playground.” Jen reached down to pet Sierra, who was leaning against her leg. Kia was normally the more affectionate dog, but Ryan had noticed that Sierra had taken a liking to Jen. “I’ve never played in the snow before,” Jen said.
Their daily hikes had taken them all over the mountain and never once had it occurred to her to play. Jen had been here four weeks now, going on five, and while she never mentioned leaving, Ryan assumed she still counted down the days. She still wrote in her journal, in great detail of their daily activities, Jen said. She wondered how long she had been harboring the desire to play in the snow.
“I don’t have a sled,” she said. “But I think we can find something to use.”
Jen’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s bring enough firewood inside to last through the storm. Then we’ll go out to the shed and see what we can find.”
Jen smiled brightly. “Thank you. That’d be fun.”
A little over an hour later, with the sun still shining brightly, Ryan looked skeptically at the piece of plywood she’d commandeered for their sled. She’d drilled two holes in the front and slipped a rope through, but still, it was rudimentary at best.
“Maybe I should take it on a test spin and make sure I don’t kill us,” she suggested.
“Oh, it looks fine,” Jen said, grinning like a child. “Besides, this is a little hill. If it works, I want to go on a really big hill.”
Ryan laughed. “Don’t forget, you still have to climb back up that really big hill.”
She sat down on the plywood and spread her legs, digging the heels of her boots into the snow. Kia licked her face and tried to lay down in front of her. “No, no, no. You don’t get to go,” she said, nudging her out of the way. She held her hand out to Jen.
“I’ve never done this before,” Jen warned.
“I know. You’ll do fine.”
Jen settled down between her legs, scooting back tight against her. Ryan put her arms around Jen’s waist, feeling Jen grab them to pull them even tighter together.
God
. She took a deep breath, then took the rope, hoping to use it to help them stop.
“Ready?”
Jen nodded vigorously, and Ryan noted the anticipation on her face.
“Okay. Hang on.”
She wrapped her legs around Jen and shoved off. They were soon racing down the hill. Jen screamed with pleasure as she held tight to Ryan’s arms. The dogs, she was certain, had no clue as to their antics, but they ran behind them, barking joyfully as they tried to catch them. Even she had to admit that it was thrilling racing down the hill as they were. Whether it was from the ride or the woman nestled between her legs, she wasn’t sure. But all too soon, it leveled out, and she pulled up on the rope, slowing their speed. Jen leaned back against her, laughing delightfully.
“Oh,
man
, that was fun,” Jen said. She looked back at her, her eyes bright. “Can we go again?”
Yeah, it was great fun, Ryan admitted. She laughed too, feeling a bit like a child herself. “Sure, we can go again. As much as you like.”
“You shouldn’t have said that,” Jen said as she got off the sled. She held a hand out to Ryan to help her up, then took the rope, pulling the sled behind her.
The hill was steeper going back up than it appeared, and even she was a bit out of breath by the time they got back to the top. Jen leaned over to catch her breath, still smiling.
“You were right. Going down is great, but you still have to climb back up.”
“That’s why after two or three, you’ll be done.”
Jen stood back up and took another couple deep breaths. “I feel great. Can I be in the back this time?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Are you afraid I’ll spill us?”
Ryan shrugged. “A little tumble in the snow never hurt anyone,” she said. Although she wasn’t sure if that was her reason for hesitating or not. She glanced at Jen, who was already seated, her legs spread invitingly. Ryan looked away with a slight roll of her eyes.
You’re a pig.
She got down, feeling Jen pull her closer as she wrapped her hands around Ryan’s waist.
“I’ll take care of the rope,” she said.
“Good. Because I can barely reach around you,” Jen said, scooting up closer to her.
Ryan bit down on her lip, loving—and hating—the feeling of Jen nestled up behind her. If she let her imagination run just a little, she could swear she felt Jen’s nipples against her back. “Try not to lean to either side,” Ryan cautioned.
“Okay. You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
They both leaned forward as Jen used her feet to push them off, then she wrapped her legs around Ryan’s as they sped down the hill for the second time. Ryan barely had time to register Jen’s arms and legs around her before she felt them tipping. She tried to right the makeshift sled but to no avail. They were thrown off, both crashing into the snow as the sled continued down the hill without them.
She spit snow out of her mouth and wiped her face, looking around for Jen. Jen was sitting up, a mixture of panic and joy on her face.