Page 8 of Snow Balled

It wasn’t easy to hold up the canopy of branches and reach for her, but I did my best, snagging the trapped strands of her hair in my right hand. It was soft and silky and sort of a light brown color—except that didn’t really do the shade justice. Probably there was a fancier name for it—tawny? Honey-colored? All I knew was it was gorgeous. Hell, she was gorgeous, despite having scratches on her face and hands.

As I worked her hair free, a fruity scent reached me. Apples, maybe? Whatever it was, I was pretty sure that writers holed up in the middle of the woods weren’t supposed to smell that good.

Once she was freed, she plunged her hand into the rubble and emerged with her phone. Pocketing it, she continued to make her way to me on all fours. She paused when she was inches away from me. As I held the worst of the branches off of her, she reached up and tucked her ponytail into the hood of her sweatshirt and then pulled it up over her head.

“Good, that’ll protect your face.” I didn’t mention that it was the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Under the scratches, her skin was smooth and even. Her lips were full, and though they were practically blue at the moment, I still ached to feel how soft they were. “Can you work your way around me?”

Around didn’t work, so she squirmed her way under me. My back ached as I gave her as much room as possible. Soon, she was working her way toward Tristan. The branches I still held up made my back ache, but it didn’t stop me from noticing how damn good her legs looked in those black leggings. But damn, I couldn’t understand how she hadn’t turned into a popsicle by now.

As she crawled along, I followed, trying to keep as much of the weight from the branches off her as I could. I heard Tristan introduce himself, so I knew she’d made it far enough to see him. I wondered what my friend thought as he got his first glimpse of our gorgeous neighbor.

Tristan raised his eyebrows at me as I neared him. The strain on his face made me hurry. We were all cold and exhausted, and we still had to make it up an ice-covered hill.

Somehow.

Excited yips told me that Zeus had spotted Sierra. Good. That meant she was almost out from under all of this. Tristan and I made our way after her, trying not to let branches snap back in each other’s faces.

And then I stumbled out onto the linoleum, extremely grateful to be on firm footing. Sierra was hugging the collie, and I turned to Carter to introduce him.

Shock hit hard as I took in his appearance. His face was red, and despite the temperature, he was actually sweating. The branch he was holding back was nearly as wide as my waist, and it must’ve taken a superhuman effort to hold it back for so long. The spikes from the crampons over Carter’s boots dug into the ruined floor, and his body trembled.

Tristan and I sprang forward. It took both of us to hold back the weight. We barely managed to hold on until he, Sierra, and Zeus were out of the way.

Sierra’s green eyes were wide as she watched Carter with concern, but she didn’t say anything as he shook out his sore limbs.

“Where’s your coat?” Tristan asked her.

“In there.” Sierra pointed to the jungle we’d just escaped. “My boots, too.”

Crap. If they were under that, there was no way we were getting them out. I pulled off my winter coat and handed it to her. I was five eleven, not quite as tall as the other two, so mine would probably fit her best.

Tristan spotted a scarf and a stocking cap on a hook by the back door and was able to skirt the fallen ceiling beams in order to grab them.

Sierra stood, and she was about five inches shorter than me. A good height difference, I knew from experience. She pulled down the hood from her sweatshirt, and Tristan’s eyes widened as he saw her long hair cascade around her shoulders. My coat swamped her, but at least it gave her torso some warmth, and the coat extended down almost to her knees. But below that, her leggings wouldn't offer much protection, and on her feet were a cross between a slipper and a boot. Unfortunately, they were soft like slippers, but at least they came up to mid-calf. But I couldn’t imagine how she could walk on ice in them.

Not that getting up the hill was going to be a picnic for any of us.

Once Sierra had her hat and scarf on, she frowned at me. “There’s a blanket in the hall closet. I think I can reach it. Maybe you could wrap it around your shoulders?”

“No,” Carter said. It was the first time he’d spoken since we relieved him of his great burden. “It’s slippery as hell out there.” That wasn’t news, but Carter actually had a plan for what to do about it. “When we’re climbing the slope, you need to lean forward, both for balance, and so that when you fall, you make damn sure you fall forward, not back. You’ll need your hands free to catch yourself.”

Right. So, no clutching a blanket. Oh well. It wasn’t a very masculine look in front of a pretty woman anyway.

Sierra patted the bulky pockets in my coat and then pulled out my gloves. “Here,” she said, handing them to me.

“You keep them.”

Tristan patted his own pockets, and then grinned. “I have an extra pair.” He handed me black cotton gloves that he sometimes wore under the thicker ski gloves he had. They were definitely better than nothing.

“We need to get going before it gets dark,” Tristan said.

“How do we get out?” Sierra asked, looking doubtfully at the blocked door to the deck.

“Same way we got in.” I gestured toward the open window behind the kitchen sink. The glass had cracked when the roof caved in, and we’d managed to get it open.

I hopped up on the counter and swung my legs out over the window. Once I was on the deck, I reached back to help Sierra through.

Carter lifted Zeus up next, and the dog wiggled out the window and landed with a skid on the icy deck. “Let’s wait over by the tree line,” I told Sierra, patting my leg so that Zeus would follow. Probably best not to have too many of us on the deck at once—who knew what the cave-in had done to the structural integrity of the building.

---