Page 6 of Snow Bound (Odyssey #1)

“Well, thanks for holding off for an hour, I guess,” Grant said around a yawn, then frowned. “ What were you doing in the office so early?”

“I wasn’t in the office,” Simon said, his voice hardening. “ She called me on my personal cell.”

Grant let out a low whistle that he knew would make Simon’s teeth clench. “ She got your number? That took some skills.”

Simon ignored him. “ You want to tell me what happened?”

Henry shifted to lay his massive head on Grant’s belly, making him grunt. “ I got to my mom’s last night, and instead of Mom , I found Anna ,” he began, and filled him in.

“I have many questions,” Simon said when Grant was finished.

“Get in line,” Grant muttered.

“Where’s your mom?”

“The Canary Islands ,” Grant said and yawned again. “ She decided she wanted some sun, rented out the house on Air B & B , and jetted off.”

“And you didn’t know this?”

“I haven’t called in a while,” Grant admitted. “ Which my mother reminded me of—at some length—when I talked to her last night.”

Simon, who’d met Grace Snow , snickered. “ I bet. So Anna’s the renter? That’s a lot of house for one person.”

“Mom said she was hosting a family reunion.” Grant frowned. “ But as far as I can tell, she’s the only one here.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“I didn’t exactly get the chance.”

“You might have, if you hadn’t been too busy sticking your dick in her,” Simon pointed out. “ But since you’ve been obsessed with this woman for a year and a half?—.”

“I object to the term obsession,” Grant interrupted.

“Sorry, how would you prefer I describe eighteen months of pining?”

“If you hadn’t sent me to Istanbul to keep that pretentious asshole from getting killed,” Grant began.

“Oh, so it’s my fault you anger-banged her in your mother’s kitchen?”

“It’s your fault she was pissed at me, which led to said anger-banging.”

“Then you’re welcome. I assume you asked Michael about her?”

“I tried.” Grant thought back to the conversation he’d had with the owner of Odyssey upon his return from Turkey last summer. “ He didn’t have much to say.”

“He never does. Want me to run her?”

Grant hesitated. He wanted to say yes, but it felt…intrusive. “ Thanks , but no.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” Simon pointed out. “ Except that she’s not above angry sex, and has good aim and a solid throwing arm.”

“Well, shit,” Grant said and Simon roared with laughter.

“Did she really tag you with a water bottle and an apple?”

“I was trying not to be menacing, all right?”

“Sure, you were.” Simon was nearly choking he was laughing so hard. “ Where’d she hit you with the toaster?”

“She didn’t. It was still plugged in so it didn’t get far.”

“Lucky you.”

Grant thought about what happened after the toaster. “ Yeah , lucky me.”

“You gonna fuck her again?”

God, he hoped so. “ Doubt it. She’s pretty pissed.”

“Didn’t stop her last night,” Simon pointed out. “ Let me know if you change your mind about the run.”

“Thanks, Simon .”

“No problem. Before you go, I have a question.”

“What?”

“Did she tag you in the balls with the bottle or the fruit?”

“Goodbye, dickhead,” Grant said and hung up on his friend’s delighted laughter.

He thought briefly about trying to get another hour of sleep—his body thought he was still in Hong Kong , and the full day of travel yesterday wasn’t helping—but between the phone call and his bladder, it wasn’t going to happen.

He frowned down at Henry , who apparently didn’t have the same problem.

The mutt had fallen back to sleep with half his considerable bulk draped across Grant’s pelvis, which was not helping his bladder situation.

“Come on, you lump. Get up.” He gave the dog a solid nudge and didn’t get so much as an eye flicker in response. “ Hey . I’m not kidding. You want to eat?”

Henry’s eyes stayed closed, but his massive whip of a tail began to thump. “ Yeah , I thought that might do it. I’m not feeding you if I can’t get up.”

Grant didn’t know if it was the threat of going hungry or the next hard shove that did it, but Henry hauled his bulk up and climbed off the bed.

He stretched and shook himself, making the metal tags on his collar jingle musically, then he trotted to the door and sat, tail wagging, while Grant shoved his way clear of the pile of blankets.

The floor was like ice under his stocking feet, he would have climbed right back into bed if his bladder hadn’t been so insistent.

He hurried through the necessities while the bathroom tile threatened his toes with frostbite, then added a flannel shirt on top of the thermal undershirt he’d slept in.

He thought about swapping out his sweatpants for his jeans, but it was too damn cold and he needed coffee, so he opened the door and headed down the attic stairs, Henry leading the way.

It was considerably warmer on the second floor, warmer still when he made his way to the first. There was a fire crackling in the big stone hearth, and the scent of bacon in the air.

Henry beat him to the kitchen and made a beeline for the woman standing at the sink.

Grant couldn’t blame him.

She was dressed in black leggings and a sweater the color of blueberries that came to mid-thigh.

Socks in the same bright color covered her feet, and she’d scooped her hair on top of her head in a messy pile, and in the morning light he could see the bright colors layered through that he’d missed last night.

With the orange red and blue all tumbled together, she looked almost like a lit match.

When Henry planted himself at her feet and looked at her expectantly, she jerked back. “ Oh , shit. Um , nice doggie?”

Henry responded by holding up a paw to shake.

“Right.” She cleared her throat and moving slowly, took the proffered paw. “ Okay . Good morning.”

Henry gave a soft woof, and a smile bloomed over Anna’s face.

“You’re not so scary,” she murmured. “ Though Jesus , how do you look bigger?”

Henry didn’t answer, just trotted over to the back door then looked over his shoulder expectantly.

“You want out?” Anna crossed to the door, then hesitated. “ I don’t know if you’re allowed to go by yourself. You might run away.”

Henry just gave her a look as if to say give me a break, lady and lifted a paw to bat at the door.

“All right,” Anna said and opened the door. “ But stay close.”

Henry bounded out the door, kicking up snow, and Anna was laughing when she shut the door behind him.

The laughter cut off abruptly when she turned and saw Grant standing by the island. “ Jesus . Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulled a coffee cup out of the cupboard, careful to keep his distance. He jerked his head at the coffee pot. “ May I ?”

“Sure. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Pouring himself a cup of the fragrant brew, Grant leaned back against the counter. He’d already decided on the direct approach, and seeing no reason to put it off, jumped right in. “ Do I owe you an apology?”

She crossed to the stove where bacon sizzled in a skillet. “ For ?”

He sipped his coffee, his eyes on her profile as she poked at the bacon with a fork. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, from the heat of the stove or embarrassment he couldn’t tell, and she was watching the bacon like it was about to explode.

“Any of it. Scaring you. Fucking you.” He hid his smile in his cup when her hand jerked, sending the fork scraping against cast iron. “ Take your pick.”

Her cheeks were pinker, adding weight to the embarrassment column, but when she looked at him her eyes were clear and direct. “ I’ll take the apology for scaring me.”

“Then you have it,” he said simply, and waited a beat. “ And the rest?”

She turned back to the stove. “ Unnecessary .”

“I didn’t give you much choice,” he said, voicing the concern that had been nagging at him since she’d fled the kitchen the night before.

“I didn’t say no,” she pointed out and began to fork up bacon.

“True.” He watched her lay the crisp strips on a plate lined with paper towels. “ But you’re still angry.”

“I’m…” She frowned down at the bacon, hand fisted around the fork. “ I don’t know what I am.”

He wanted to snitch a piece of bacon, but that would put him in stabbing range of her fork. “ I didn’t ghost you, Anna . Not intentionally.”

“So you said.” Laying the fork down, she set the plate of bacon on the island he was trying not to remember fucking her on. “ Istanbul ?”

He frowned at that, then remembered his conversation with Simon . “ Yeah .”

She switched out the cast iron for a non-stick skillet, added butter to sizzle, and began cracking eggs into a bowl. “ I’ve always wanted to go there. What’s it like?”

He shrugged. “ It’s nice when you’re not trying to keep some rich asshole from causing an international incident or getting himself killed.”

She whipped the eggs into a froth, then poured them into the skillet and added salt and pepper. “ You could’ve called, you know.”

“You didn’t give me your number.”

She slanted him a look. “ I meant you could’ve called the club.”

“I thought it would be easier to explain in person,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “ But when I got back, you were gone.”

She poked at the eggs, lips pressed together as though she was holding back words.

Not ready to talk about that, he decided, and changed tactics. “ I tried to get your number from the club.”

Her gaze flicked over, then back to the eggs. “ You did?”

He nodded. A woof sounded from outside, Henry’s I’m ready to come in bark, and Grant crossed to the back door. “ They wouldn’t give it to me.”

“Why not?”

“Club policy.” He opened the door for his snow covered dog, who gave him a happy, tongue lolling grin, then shook mightily. “ Dammit , Henry .”

“Club policy?” she echoed.

Slapping snow off his clothes, he looked up. “ Odyssey promises its members discretion and confidentiality. Michael takes that seriously.”

She was frowning. “ Who’s Michael ?”

“The owner. Tall , dark with a beard, always looks like someone pissed in his Cheerios ?”