Page 98 of Snowbound Surrender

She’d lowered her head with her previous statement and raised it just enough now to send him a coy look through her lashes. “I don’t know if I’d consider that exciting.”

“I would.” He stabbed the last, tough piece of chicken on his plate, pleased that he’d made it through the entire meal in one piece. “And hey, we’re both getting to experience the excitement of being snowed in for the night.”

“About that.” Miranda took a deep breath, setting her fork down as if she’d given up. “I assume you’ve found a room to your liking?”

Randall’s thoughts flew to the narrow closet with a rough bed that she referred to as a room. He suspected that those rooms had been designed for one use…one that didn’t translate to long stays. Anything over twenty minutes would have been more than most ranchers and cowpokes could have afforded.

“It’ll do.” He worked not to chuckle. “I took the one closest to your apartment here because, well, there are no fireplaces in those rooms and it seemed a bit warmer.”

“Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that.” She pressed a hand to one bright cheek. “I think there are extra blankets in the storage rooms upstairs, or in the attic.”

“There’s an attic?” His brow went up. What kind of treasure existed in a saloon’s attic?

“Yes. Feel free to bring down as many blankets as you feel you’ll need to stay warm.” She stood, taking her plate and reaching for his. “I can clean up from supper.”

Randall stood as well. “I can help with that too.” He picked up both of their water glasses and followed her to the sink. “I could cook breakfast tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“Oh no,” she rushed to say. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that. You’ve been inconvenienced enough already. I’m the hostess. Consider myself your guest.”

Inwardly, Randall cringed and said a quick prayer for gastric fortitude. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” He set the glasses on the counter beside the sink as Miranda set to work cleaning up. “I’ll just check the fires one last time before I turn in as well.”

“Thank you.” She turned briefly to him with a smile, then continued to scrub plates. “I’m sure this storm can’t last more than one night.”

“Probably not,” he agreed.

But a part of him hoped it might last much, much longer.

CHAPTER 4

Miranda wokethe next morning before dawn to a slight thump coming from the main room of her apartment. Her eyes snapped open with a start before she remembered Randall was there. Instantly, her muscles relaxed and her breathing grew easy.

At least until she heard the sharp whistle of the wind against the side of the building and felt the bitter snap in the air. She was cold. Very cold. In the night, she’d curled into a ball on her side to conserve warmth, but that wasn’t doing much now. Not even the three blankets piled on top of her could hold back the chill.

There was nothing for it but to scramble out of bed and into clean, warm clothes, though the process of getting dressed left her even colder for a moment. Her fingers were too stiff to bother braiding or tying back her hair—almost too stiff to light the lamp on her bedside table—so she left her hair down, wrapped one of the blankets around her, and shivered her way into the apartment’s main room, lamp in hand.

Randall crouched by the fireplace, striking matches and setting them to a large pile of fresh wood and kindling. He twisted to greet her with a smile as she approached.

“Good morning, Randi.” He teased her with a wink.

The fire was out, but Miranda warmed all the same. “Good morning to you, Randy,” she replied.

They shared a nervous giggle, then Randall nodded to the fireplace. “The fire went out sometime in the night. I was so cold I couldn’t sleep anyhow, so I got up to investigate, and look.”

He pointed to the hearth all around the wood and kindling. Miranda gasped. A fine layer of snow had covered everything. She’d hardly ever heard of snow blowing down a chimney. Although honestly, there hadn’t been much snow at all in the part of California where she’d grown up.

“The storm must be bad,” she spoke her thoughts aloud.

Randall returned to his work as he said, “I think so. I couldn’t see much out the window when I checked a few minutes ago, but that might just be because it’s still dark.”

Miranda pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and crossed the room to the window above her washstand. The water she’d left in the bowl the night before had a thin layer of ice on top. She shivered, half from cold, half from the ominous feeling the ice gave her. She pulled back the curtain only to feel a deeper blast of cold. Instinct told her the windowpane was too cold to touch. What was even more worrying was that most of the rectangles of glass were completely covered in snow.

“I doubt it snowed so much overnight that the saloon was actually buried,” Randall called from the fireplace, sensing her distress. “It probably just drifted against that wall. I found a window on another side of the building upstairs, and it wasn’t that bad.”

“You were upstairs?” Since there wasn’t anything to see, and since the very fact of Randall’s presence was the only thing keeping her from panic, she left the window and returned to crouch beside the fireplace.

“Just for a minute or two,” he told her with a reassuring smile. “I thought I’d look for more blankets.”

Miranda blushed hot. “I haven’t had time to clean those rooms yet.”