Page 17 of Love Me Again

Shane stopped on the porch, turned to him before he opened the door and let them into some damn warmth.

“You know I’m not saying you should harass her until she gives in, right?”

Boone was torn between amusement and frustration. “Yes, Shane, I know that.”

“Cora keeps telling me about all these horrible internet things we have to make sure Micah’s not watching. Teach him to be a good man, not some asshole.”

“I’m not a kid or your kid.”

“No,” Shane agreed. Then he clapped him on the back. “You’re a married man.” Shane opened the door and stepped inside.

Boone hesitated.

He was that.

And a bad bet. Or had been.

He’d been working on changing that. Slow going, but he’d been working on it.

Didn’t mean he deserved Josie’s forgiveness. Certainly not her as his wife again.

But as he walked into the warmth of the house, hope wasn’t as easy to shake off as the snow.

CHAPTER 7

Josie blinked her eyes open. The room was so bright and unfamiliar. For a moment, she couldn’t make sense of any of it. She rolled over and winced at the odd pain in her hand.

Which brought it all flooding back. Boone. Punching him. Being swept up into his family’s strangely absorbing orbit.

A knock sounded from somewhere in the cabin. Presumably the front door. Josie sat up, looked around the room. Should she open it? Would it be Boone or Molly or…

She shook her head as if to clear it, then swung out from under the warm covers. She swore a little because the room was freezing outside the blanket. She found her own socks and a sweatshirt and pulled them on as she hurried for the front door.

She pulled it open to a bright, blinding world of white. And Deb, bundled up against the cold.

“Oh, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Deb asked, taking in Josie’s pajama pants.

Josie was already shaking her head no out of habit of not wanting to disappoint anyone. She glanced at the clock above the fireplace. Ten in the morning? She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept that late. Like, ever.

“I just…”

“I bet you were absolutely exhausted,” Deb said, sweeping inside with a bag. “Sometimes there is no better sleep than a blizzard sleep—everything is so quiet once it all settles. You left your keys in your truck, so we moved it into the garage.” She put the bag on the kitchen counter that separated the little kitchenette from the living room, then held up Josie’s keys. She set those on the counter too. She glanced at the door. “You better close that door before we let all this warm air out.”

Josie did as she was told, even as she reeled. Deb shed her winter outerwear then started unloading more food from the bag. She shivered a little then tsked as she glanced at the fireplace. Once the groceries she’d inexplicitly brought were put away, she set about making a fire.

Like she was just going to be here, taking care of things.

“Mrs… Deb.”

The woman looked up at her from her crouched position at the fireplace. Her expression was patiently expectant.

“This is all really too much. I appreciate it, I really do, but…” Josie trailed off. No buts seemed to form in her brain. She’d blame all that sleep.

Deb finished restarting the fire, then stood, brushing her palms on her thick work pants. “I take it you are someone very used to doing everything yourself.”

“I suppose I am.”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”