The Inn Boonsboro Trilogy by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

HE RECOGNIZED THE silence, the wrapped-in-cotton quiet that meant only one thing.

Owen opened his eyes, blinked them clear and watched the snow fall in downy drifts outside the window. Gotta break out the plow, he thought—but later. He rolled over, intending to wake up Avery in a way he hoped she’d appreciate, but found the bed empty.

Where the hell was she?

He dragged himself up, poked his head through the open bathroom door. He spotted her toothbrush on the side of his sink, considered that as he went to the dresser for a pair of flannel pants.

He smelled coffee—and, oh boy, bacon—as he came down the stairs.

A marching band high-stepped on his kitchen TV, snow blanketed his patio outside the doors. And Avery stood at his counter chopping peppers.

She wore a white chef’s apron over a blue-checked robe, her hair clipped back, her feet bare. He remembered how she’d looked the night before, in the sexy dress, then later in the even sexier underwear. But he realized he most often imagined her just like this—in an apron in the kitchen.

“What’s for breakfast?”

She looked up, over, smiled. “You’re awake.”

“Marginally. Why are you?”

“Because it’s nearly eleven, it’s snowing, and I’m starving.”

“Eleven?” He frowned at the clock on the stove. “I don’t know the last time I slept this late. I guess it’s okay.” He gestured toward the snow. “No school today.”

“Yippee.”

Moving to her, he turned her from the counter, drew her in for a kiss. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She leaned against him a moment. “It’s so quiet. In town, even when it’s quiet there’s sound. But here, with the snow, it’s like the world shut off.”

He turned her again so they both faced the glass doors. “Look.”

Through the snow, on a ridge behind the snow-drenched trees, a trio of deer wandered silent as ghosts.

“Oh, they’re so beautiful. I bet you get to see deer all the time.”

“A lot.”

“The boys are going to love it when they all move into the new house. You did. I remember how you and your brothers ran wild in the woods when we were kids.”

“Good times.” Bending, he kissed the top of her head. “So are these. What’re you making here?”

“You had this and that left over from the party. We’ll call them kitchen-sink omelettes.”

“Sounds great. You didn’t have to.”

“Food, kitchen—” She spread her hands. “I’m helpless not to cook. You have most excellent tools, and I know you hardly ever use them.”

“But they’re here if I want to.”

“True. I could toss a bunch of this in a pot—people never eat as many dipping vegetables as you figure they will. No point in having them go to waste. I can make up a soup.”

“Snowy day, homemade soup?” Did that mean she planned to stay awhile? “Who’s going to argue with that?” He walked over to pour himself coffee. “I need to go out and plow soon.”

“I guess you do, but too bad. It’s nice feeling snowed-in and cozy. Well, a man about to plow needs a manly breakfast.”

While she cooked, he put away dishes, and enjoyed the easy rhythm.

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