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Bree had gathered that much. “What happened?”
“The roads are all closed unless you have snow chains and even then, some roads are impassable. Missy was coming from Atlanta. She made it as far as Maryville, but then they started sending cars back. There’s no way to get here.” He shook his head. “I should’ve waited to do this until we could drive up together.”
Bree bit her lip, not quite sure what to say to that. “I guess we can reschedule the session in Nashville, if that’s easier.”
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the polished wooden floors. “That’s probably the best plan.”
Bree nodded. There was a confusing pang of emotions in her stomach as she turned back to her equipment to pack up.
She was relieved that she didn’t have to face his beautiful and successful fiancée today. She didn’t really feel like snapping pictures while they posed together intimately and smiled at her camera. She’d dodged the bullet. When she got back to Nashville, she needed to confess the truth to Natalie. It was probably for the best that someone else handle their engagement portraits and maybe the wedding itself. There was being a professional and there was being a masochist. She recognized the difference now.
At the same time, she didn’t want to leave. Walking out the door meant she might never see Ian again. When he’d held her outside, she’d felt a heat in her belly that hadn’t burned that strongly in a long time. She wanted him to hold her again. To kiss her the way she hadn’t been kissed in years.
She groaned inwardly and zipped her bag. Maybe she was a masochist. She was fantasizing about her ex. Her engaged, soon-to-be-a-daddy ex. The ex she’d broken up with because she couldn’t take the sudden change in everything about him. Overnight, he’d gone from a music major to a record label toadie working eighty hours a week. Bree was certain none of that had changed. He ran a successful record label. Just because he took a weekend off to pose for engagement pictures didn’t mean he was cured of his affliction.
Bree stood up and slung her camera bag over her shoulder. She was about to grab another bag when she heard a loud knock at the door.
Ian looked at her and frowned before turning, walking over and opening the front door. An older man in a heavy jacket and cap was standing there.
Bree couldn’t hear their conversation so she moved closer.
“I’ve been walking around to all the cabins in the subdivision while I can. Everything’s shut down. During Superstorm Sandy we got a bunch of snow and it took a few days before they could get the roads cleared. They can’t really start, though, until the snow stops falling. There’s already ten inches on the ground and they’re expecting upward of another fifteen or so before it’s done. I’ve lived here twenty years and I haven’t seen it fall this hard and fast.”
“So we’re stuck here, Rick?”
The older man nodded. “For a few days at least. That incline is too dangerous for the plows. Patty stocked the kitchen and I added half a cord of firewood to the pile. It should keep you until it’s safe to head back to Nashville.”
Bree heard the man’s words, but part of her didn’t quite process it at first. It wasn’t until Ian closed the door and turned to look at her with an expression of pure agony that it clicked. It wasn’t as simple as Missy not being able to get here. They also couldn’t leave. They couldn’t even get down the mountain so she could sleep in her reserved hotel room.
Bree immediately reached for the remote control and turned the television to the weather station. Hopefully the National Weather Service knew better than the caretaker. The map of the country finally came up and the woman in the nice suit pointed out the weather trouble spots. When she got to the Smoky Mountains, Bree gasped.
“...An unexpected barrage of snow in the area after two smaller storm cells merged into the newly dubbed Winter Storm Shana. Blizzard-like conditions are expected overnight with up to forty inches of snow. Roads are closed and the highway patrol is asking people to stay in their homes. Do not try to travel as emergency crews are having difficulty getting to distress calls.”
At that, Bree’s knees gave out and she plopped down into the armchair behind her. She was stuck here. With Ian. For an undetermined amount of time.
And Ian looked anything but pleased about it.
Two
Days. Days! Trapped in this house with Briana Harper. What, exactly, had he done to deserve this? He must have done something because if the past few months weren’t karma coming back to bite him, he didn’t know what it was.
Ian scowled at his phone as appointment change notice after appointment change notice came through. After finding out they were snowed in, he’d called his administrative assistant and asked her to clear his calendar through Tuesday, just in case. Each meeting on his packed schedule generated another email as it shifted ahead into an already overcrowded week.
On the plus side, he had his laptop and cell phone, and the cabin had DSL internet service, so the wheels of progress could still spin to a point. He might be stuck here with Bree, but it was a big house and he was a busy man. Certainly with three stories and twelve different rooms to choose from, they wouldn’t have to cross paths very often.
He leaned to the side on his stool to peek into the living room. Bree was camped out there with her own computer and equipment. She’d been on the phone on and off, too. He’d tried not to listen, but it was hard not to. She’d called a woman named Natalie, then Amelia. The talk had been all about work and covering the weekend wedding festivities, but a part of him kept waiting to hear his own name.
Bree had mentioned that she’d kept their past together a secret, but surely now that she was trapped here with him, that information would be shared with her coworkers. In the scheme of things, it seemed noteworthy. Unless, of course, he was as distant a memory in her mind as his music was in his own. If that was the case, good for her. He hadn’t been as lucky. Thoughts of Bree still plagued him, angered him. He’d be happier now if
he could’ve forgotten about her. Sometimes the intricacies of his work would push the thoughts away, but a quiet moment always brought them screaming back into his head.
She’d called her mother and left a message so she wouldn’t worry. One call she didn’t make, however, was to a boyfriend or spouse. He’d thought for sure that a man would’ve met Bree’s requirements by now. There were plenty of hopeful artists in the world for her to choose from. Or maybe she’d grown up and realized that it wasn’t practical for an adult who needed to support a family. Not that he was bitter.
Finally, she’d called a lady named Julia at the Whitman Gallery and said she’d have to reschedule her final appointment before the showing.
Ian had been to the Whitman Gallery on several occasions. They did a lot of special art showings and liked to feature local Nashville artists. Perhaps Bree was planning a show there. That would be a big step for her photography. Back in school she’d been big on nature and architectural photography. She took snapshots of people but almost never posed portraits. She’d told him once that she liked to capture genuine moments.
How things had changed! His engagement portraits were about as disingenuous as moments could come. But as he well understood, sometimes art had to give way to paying the bills, and wedding photography was a high-dollar business. The wedding industry as a whole was a racket. The paperwork Missy had brought home after she’d reserved the venue and put down the deposit nearly made him choke. The floral bill alone was running him nearly six figures.
