Snow Jam Read Online Free PDF Page A

of it after dinner. We sat down across from each other at a very small table and I realized I was waiting for him to take a bite and give an opinion.
    He did, in the best way possible – by taking a bite as he ’ d just started talking about something and then stopping, looking surprised and then grinning. "This is good," he said, sounding pleased rather than surprised.
    I grinned. "Thanks." He'd just given me a little thrill of pleasure. He had green eyes, I noticed again, and there was something compelling about the crows' feet around them, like he'd had time to grow up a little, but likely it came from being outdoors a lot. This was a fishing cabin after all.
    "So you're a friend of Sunny's?" I asked. She'd never mentioned him, or anything about knowing Jeep rescue volunteers, or living in a state where such people would be a necessary part of life.
    He shook his head, finishing a bite of his fourth or fifth fajita. Granted we didn't have anything with them, but he still had a healthy appetite.
    "Friend of Kurt's," he said, and went on to say something about having known him back in college.
    I didn't say anything, distracted for a moment. I might have thought twice before getting into a car with him if I'd known that, though guilt by association isn't fair. Sunny's husband Kurt is a jerk, something those of us who love Sunny have known for years and are pretty sure Sunny herself is in the process of realizing.
    "How often do you get up here to fish?" I asked when he took a break from eating. Surely that wouldn't bring up too many unhappy memories?
    It made him smile, though there was something tinged about it. "Well, not much in the middle of winter," he said, as if I should realize that the cabin was only a couple miles from where I'd been stranded on the highway.
    "It's hardly the middle of winter," I said, a little more sharply than I'd intended. "I hadn't expected to find any snow. I thought Georgia was, I don't know, sunny and warm."
    "Georgia's never ready for snow," he said with a verbal shrug that seemed to take the pressure for our circumstances off me and put it back on the state, where I was more than happy to have it. "So you're headed for Hanlin. Vacation?"
    It was probably the least intrusive way he could have asked me, So, what the hell are you doing in Georgia if you don't even know to anticipate snow in the spring? but it still put my hackles up a little.
    Down, girl , Sunny said in my head.
    "Job interview," I said, and looked past him for something else to comment on. Like the bookcase behind him. It was stuffed to overflowing, mirroring my own passions. My friends are always after me to put the book down and "get a life," as if a life is something I can pick up in the – 'er, bookstore. I've got a career, and I had a life until the recession meant a lot of the friends who were part of that life became social media friends as they lit out from Nevada to greener pastures.
    Like I was doing. And there was no reason he couldn't know all that, not like I thought he was going to become a stalker because he knew where I might end up working. Besides, he already had me here. Stalking would be pointless.
    And that sent a frisson of unease down my spine rather than pleasure. Rick noticed the direction of my gaze and turned to look. When he turned back, I pointed my chin at the books. "Am I seeing a full set of John D. MacDonald Travis McGee books?"
    His grin lit his face. He turned around and leaned his chair back on two legs, reaching for a handful, then turned back and lay Dreadful Lemon Sky and Tan and Sandy Silence on the table along with a couple others. "You're a fan?"
    "Read them all the summer after my senior year of high school." I picked them both up and turned them over to read the blurbs on the back. "I think I had a crush on Travis McGee."
    He smiled, slow and lazy. "You realize he's not real, right?"
    "To my everlasting sorrow, yes. You've read them?" Too late realizing this might easily be his