Читать книгу Snowbound With An Heiress - Jennifer Faye - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

“ARFF!”

Jackson Bennett glanced around. Was it possible that the dog the woman was so worried about had been unharmed? He hoped so.

He squinted through the heavy falling snow. Where was the dog? Maybe if he caught it, he’d be able to pay the woman back. They could part on even terms. He hated feeling indebted to anyone. If only he could locate the source of the barking.

“Arff! Arff!”

He glanced around for some sign of Mae. Maybe she could find the dog. But it appeared she was still off in search of a makeshift cane for him.

Jackson got to his feet. With difficulty, he turned around. There beneath a tree, where the snow wasn’t so deep, stood a little gray-and-white dog. It looked cold and scared. Jackson could sympathize.

“Come here,” he said in his most congenial tone. “I won’t hurt you.”

There was another bark, but it didn’t move. The dog continued to stare at Jackson as though trying to decide if Jackson could be trusted or not. Jackson kept calling to the dog, but the little thing wouldn’t come near him. Jackson smothered a frustrated sigh. How did he gain the dog’s trust?

He again glanced around for Mae. How far had she gone for the walking stick? A town on the other side of the Alps? Italy perhaps?

He considered shouting for her, but then he changed his mind. If he frightened the dog, they’d never catch it. And it wasn’t fit for man or beast in this snowstorm.

Jackson turned back to the dog. If only he had a way to coax him over, but he didn’t have any dog treats. And then he thought of something. He’d missed his lunch and had grabbed a pack of crackers to eat in the car. Would a dog eat a cracker?

Jackson had no idea. His experience with a dog consisted of exactly seven days. And it hadn’t gone well at all.

Once the dog had made a mess on the floor, chewed one of his mother’s favorite shoes and howled when his mother put him in the backyard for the night, she’d taken the dog back to the shelter. Jackson remembered how crushed he’d been. He’d begged and pleaded for his mother to change her mind. His mother had told him that it was for the best and sent Jackson to his room.

He banished the memories to the back of his mind. Those days were best forgotten. His life was so much different now—so much better. He didn’t have a dog and, for all intents and purposes, he didn’t have a mother, either. It was for the best.

He pulled the crackers from his dress shirt pocket. He undid the cellophane and removed one. It consisted of two crackers with cheese spread between them. He hoped this would work.

“Here, boy.”

The dog’s ears perked up. That had to be a good sign. The pup took a few steps forward. His nose wiggled. Then his tail started to wag.

“That’s it. Come on.”

The dog’s hesitant gaze met his and then returned to the cracker. The pup took a few more steps. He was almost to Jackson.

Jackson lowered his voice. “That’s a good boy.” He laid the cracker flat on his hand and took a wobbly step forward. The dog watched his every move but held his ground. Jackson stretched out his arm as far as it’d go.

And then the dog came closer. After a few seconds of hesitation, he grabbed the cracker. Jackson caught sight of the blue sparkly collar on the dog’s neck. Something told him that this was most definitely the woman’s dog. The flashy collar was in line with the woman’s rhinestone encrusted cell phone and her perfectly manicured nails.

As the dog devoured the cracker, Jackson knew this was his moment to make his move. Balancing his weight on one foot, he bent down. He lunged forward to wrap his hands around the little dog.

The dog jumped back and Jackson lost his balance. He reached out to regain his balance, but he’d moved too far from the large rock. He instinctively put his weight on his injured leg. Wrong move. He swore under his breath.

“What in the world!” came the beautiful stranger’s voice.

It was too late. She couldn’t help him. His injured leg couldn’t take the pressure of his weight. It gave way. He fell face-first into the snow.

Jackson sat up with snow coating him from head to toe. He blew the snow from his mouth and nose. Then he ran a hand over his face. At that moment, he felt something wet on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find the dog licking him. Ugh!

“Aww...you found him.” A big smile bloomed on the woman’s face. If he thought that she was beautiful before, she was even more of a knockout when she smiled. “You’re such a naughty boy for running off. Come here, Gizmo.”

“Gizmo? What kind of name is that?” Jackson attempted to get to his feet. He failed.

The woman’s brows drew together, but she didn’t move to help him. “What’s wrong with his name?”

Jackson sighed. “It’s a bit cutesy for a boy, don’t you think?”

“Cutesy?” Her green eyes darkened to a shade of deep jade.

“Never mind.” What did he care what she named her dog? If his head wasn’t pounding, he would have kept his thoughts to himself. He would have to make a mental note to tread carefully going forward. Without Mae’s help, he hefted himself to his feet.

In the meantime, she picked up the dog and brushed snow from Gizmo. “We need to get you home and in front of a fire. You poor baby.”

As Jackson brushed himself off, he couldn’t help but watch how the woman oohed and aahed over the dog. What amazed him the most was how the dog was eating up the attention as though it knew exactly what she was saying.

Mae turned to Jackson as though an afterthought, holding out a stick. “Here you go.”

He accepted the sturdy-looking branch. Somehow it made him feel like some sort of Paul Bunyan figure. Although his suit and dress shoes would definitely suggest otherwise.

“How in the world did you find Gizmo?” she asked.

Jackson couldn’t actually admit to having done much of anything, but if she wanted to give him partial credit, who was he to reject it. After all, if he hadn’t thought of the crackers in his pocket, the dog might have run off again.

“We sort of found each other. And he likes the same crackers as I do.”

“Crackers?”

“Yes. I have some in my pocket. They were supposed to replace my lunch, but I got distracted when I turned on the wrong road and my GPS wouldn’t work out here. Anyway, I forgot about them.”

She nodded as though she understood, but there were still unspoken questions in her eyes. “I hate to say it, but the snow’s not letting up. If anything, it’s getting heavier.” She frowned as she glanced upward. “I threw a bunch of snow on the fire when I was looking for Gizmo. I think it doused it. If not, this heavy snow should take care of it.” She turned to him. “Are you ready to hike out of here?”

“I don’t see where I have a choice.”

“I’ve got to carry Gizmo because the snow is starting to get too deep for his short legs. And I’ll take your bag as you’ll need all your energy to move on your good leg. But you can put your arm over my shoulder to balance yourself. Hopefully between that and the cane, you’ll be able to make it back to the cabin.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He got a firm grip on the stick and placed an arm over her shoulders, trying not to put too much pressure on her. He felt guilty that he couldn’t even relieve her of his bag, but she was right, anything more would unbalance him. His ankle was really starting to throb now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

She glanced over at him. “Thank you for finding Gizmo.”

“You’re welcome.”

Were those unshed tears shimmering in her eyes? But in a blink, they were gone. And he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined them after all.

At least, they were now even. He glanced over at his snow angel. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. It was hard to miss her stunning green eyes. They were unforgettable and strangely familiar. But that was impossible, right? After all, she was here in Austria and he was from New York City.

But the more he thought about it, he realized that she spoke with an American accent. Now, that he found interesting. What was an American woman doing in Austria at Christmastime? Did she have family here? Or was it something else? Perhaps it was the journalist in him, but he was curious about her story. And then he wondered if she might have an interesting story—something to humanize the holiday segment that he’d flown here to film.

He assured himself that it was professional interest—nothing more. After all, he was off the market. Ever since his wife passed away, he’d kept to himself. No one could ever fill the empty spot in his heart and he had no desire to replace his wife, not now—not ever.

Their progress was slow but steady. He felt bad for holding her back. “Why don’t you go on ahead?” he suggested. “You’ve got to be cold.”

“No colder than you. And I’m not leaving you out here. You don’t even know where my cabin is.”

“I can follow your tracks—”

“No. We’re in this together.”

Boy, was she stubborn. Even though it irked him that Mae was out here in the frigid air on his account, a small part of him admired her assertiveness. She would certainly be a tough nut to crack during an interview. Those were the interviews he enjoyed the most. The ones where he had to work hard to get the interviewee to open up—to get to the heart of the matter.

A lot of his peers would disagree and say that an interview should flow smoothly. But he wasn’t afraid of confrontation—of setting matters straight. But being stuck on the morning news cycle, he didn’t get to do many meaty interviews—certainly not as many as he would like.

They continued on in silence. And that was quite all right with Jackson. His head hurt. No, it pounded. But that pain was nothing compared to his ankle. However, he refused to let any of that stop him.

He clenched his jaw as he forced himself to keep moving. It was very slow progress, but one step at a time, he was moving over the snow-laden ground. The snow had seeped into his dress shoes. At first, his feet had grown cold. Then they had begun to hurt. Now they were numb.

He sure hoped they got to their destination soon. Freezing to death might make a big news story—but he wasn’t that desperate for headlines.

He glanced once more at Mae, but she’d pulled up her hood with the fluffy white fur trim, blocking the view of her beautiful face. “Is it much farther?”

“It’s just over that rise.” She turned her head, sending him a concerned look. “Do you need to rest?”

“No.” If he stopped now, he doubted he’d be able to move again. “I can make it.”

“Are you sure?” There was a distinct note of doubt in her voice.

“I’m sure.” His teeth started to chatter, so he clenched his jaw together.

Attempting to keep his thoughts on anything but the unending cold, he glanced at the woman next to him. He was torn between being angry at her for causing the accident by letting her dog loose and being grateful that she was some sort of angel sent to rescue him.

Then guilt settled in. How could he be upset with someone who was so concerned for him? She may have been irresponsible with the dog, but she’d cared enough to help him. He couldn’t forget that. Perhaps this was the twist in the story he’d come to Austria to tell. Perhaps he could attribute her actions to the holiday spirit. Maybe that was stretching things, but he liked the sound of it. He knew that angle would tug on the heartstrings of his viewers. But it wouldn’t be enough to garner the attention of the television executives—the same people who had passed him over for the evening news anchor role.

He stared straight ahead. There indeed was a slight hill. In his condition, it seemed more like Mont Blanc. But between the thick tree limb that Mae had located for him and her slim shoulders, he would make it.

Hopefully this cabin came equipped with a landline. He had to get out of here. This wasn’t a vacation for him. He was on assignment and his film crew was due to arrive tomorrow. He’d arrived early to scout out some special settings for his Christmas-around-the-world series. This accident would definitely put a crimp in his plans, but by tomorrow he’d be back on track. He refused to let his ankle and various minor injuries hold him back—not when there was work to be done.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the cabin at last came into sight. He paused for a moment, catching his breath. But only for a moment and then he was moving again—pushing through the pain. Between the snow and his injured leg, this walk was a bigger workout than he normally experienced at the gym.

His body was giving in to the cold and he stumbled. “We need to stop.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Are you quitting on me? Are you a quitter?”

“I’m not a quitter.” What was wrong with her? “Can’t you see that I’m injured?”

“I think you’re being a wimp.”

“Wimp?” He glared at her. Anger warmed his veins. He’d been wrong about her. This woman wasn’t an angel—not even close. She was rude and mean.

He’d show her.

He kept going.

One slow, agonizing step after the other.