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Snowed In
Cassie Miles
A small-town innkeeper’s life is transformed by a sexy army ranger in USA TODAY bestselling author Cassie Miles’s SNOWED IN Rescuing a beautiful woman from four armed men wasn’t how Blake Randall planned to spend his army leave. But as chief security detail at his best friend’s wedding, the ranger’s mission is just beginning. A blizzard has cut off Sarah Bentley’s Colorado B and B from the outside world, trapping them with a killer. Snowed in with the rugged stranger who already saved her life once, Sarah has no choice but to trust Blake. As passion ignites, she realizes he’s more than a strong shoulder to lean on. With danger escalating, it’s time to listen to what her heart’s telling her: with Blake by her side, they can survive anything.
“We need to be cautious but not paranoid.”
Sarah stepped away from him and reached behind her back to untie her long apron. When she cast aside the pin-striped apron and adjusted the collar on her blouse, Blake was struck by the contrast between the rich teal fabric and her milky skin. A tiny, heart-shaped gold locket nestled in the hollow of her throat.
His fingers itched to caress her, and he actually stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep from reaching out and tracing the path of the delicate gold chain that encircled her neck.
As she crossed the kitchen to hang her apron on a peg near the door, he watched her athletic stride and unconsciously graceful gestures.
Being alone with her might be a mistake.
If so, it was an error in judgment he intended to make repeatedly.
Snowed In
Cassie Miles
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Though born in Chicago and raised in LA, USA TODAY bestselling author CASSIE MILES has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek, with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post.
After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Ceviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Mills & Boon
Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.
To Kersten Bergstrom and Sonny Caporale with congratulations and hopes for a wonderful life together. And, as always, to Rick.
Contents
Chapter One (#uda39a99a-58cc-5661-b33b-f822a1a4b35f)
Chapter Two (#u1c6f4a6d-6152-5c9f-8eb6-043fa3f4d6b8)
Chapter Three (#ua3058f60-0dd3-51ed-83cb-b60dc5ea45fc)
Chapter Four (#u2c45f7f1-f813-5e1d-88e5-2f137f15e3d2)
Chapter Five (#u10dc66a4-2f38-5c72-bc00-da12268b0d16)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“Slow down, Sarah. The drop on this side of the trail is killer.”
“It’s only sixteen feet.” Sarah Bentley paused to aim her flashlight beam over the edge where the light was swallowed by the dark of a cloudy, moonless night. With a shrug, she resumed walking, her boots crunching on the frozen snow. “I wouldn’t even call this a cliff. It’s a gradual drop-off. You’ve been on ski slopes that were steeper.”
“Not in the middle of the night,” her friend Emily Layton protested. “Not when I wasn’t wearing skis.”
This forest trail led from Bentley’s Bed-and-Breakfast past the drilling site for Hackman Oil, and it followed a relatively straight line, which meant it was the shortest distance between the two points. But shorter didn’t always mean faster. Sarah questioned the logic of taking this route. She halted on the path and turned to face her friend. “Why didn’t we drive?”
“The text message from BOOM said to use the trail.” Emily’s breath formed a frosty little cloud around her wide, usually smiling mouth. “Specifically. The trail.”
“I don’t take orders from those jerks.” She didn’t like BOOM, a radical environmentalist group prone to one stupid thing after another. “What kind of mess am I walking into?”
“I already told you.” Emily rolled her eyes and stamped her foot, acting more like a teenager than a twenty-eight-year-old woman who was about to be a bride. “I got a midnight text that said BOOM was going to send a message to Hackman Oil. They want me to join them and warned me to be quiet and take the forest trail. I needed you to show me the way.”
Sarah pulled on the earflaps of her knit wool cap. She remembered being wakened and putting on her snow pants and parka over her flannel pajamas, but the reason for this middle-of-the-night hike through the frigid February night was still hazy. As a professional innkeeper who had been running the B and B for five years on her own, she should have developed a knack for snapping wide-awake at a moment’s notice, but that talent had always eluded her.
Again, she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Surely she hadn’t agreed to join forces with BOOM. “What kind of message?”
“A protest. I’m guessing that it’s something like spray painting graffiti on the sides of the trucks.”
“I don’t support the destruction of private property.” Vandalism was never a good solution. Jerks like the leaders of BOOM, which stood for Back Off Our Mountains, caused more problems than they solved.
“I don’t like it, either.” Emily tucked a blond tendril under her cap. “In fact, I’ve decided to quit BOOM.”
“That would make a lovely wedding present for your fiancé.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” she said. “You’re so funny.”
“I think I’ve heard him refer to BOOM. What did he call them?” Sarah couldn’t resist teasing. “Eco-idiots?”
“That was after they dressed up like wolverines to bring attention to that endangered species. Not their finest hour.”
“But very entertaining, especially the guy who got confused and dressed like Hugh Jackman in X-Men. Let me tell you, if Mr. Jackman was endangered, I’d get behind the protest.”
“Most of the time, Jeremy and I have a strict agree-to-disagree policy. We don’t discuss our causes.”
In light of their vast differences of opinion, that was a wise policy. In four days, free-spirited Emily would be getting married at Bentley’s B and B to her army ranger sweetheart, Jeremy Hamilton. Though their ideas might be volumes apart, Emily and Jeremy were on the same page when it came to their love. When they were together, they positively glowed. Sarah didn’t understand their relationship. It could be one of those opposites-attract things. Or it could be kismet. Or Jeremy could be terrific in bed.
Whatever the case, she hoped their passion would be enough to see them through the larger problem: their families. Emily’s father was a liberal senator from California, and Jeremy’s dad was a four-star general. At the wedding, they would come face-to-face for the first time.
When Mr. Dove met Mr. Hawk, Sarah expected fireworks. She patted Emily’s arm. “You have enough to worry about. Let’s go back to bed.”
“We’re not turning back. We need to go to the drill site and talk sense into these guys.”
“Why do you care?” She vaguely recalled a tidbit of gossip. “Didn’t you used to date somebody from BOOM?”
“I’m thinking of you,” Emily said emphatically. “You’re going to get blamed for whatever damage they cause. Your B and B is only a mile and a half away from the drill site, and you’ve been fighting Hackman Oil for years.”
“Legally fighting,” she said, “through sanctioned environmental agencies and the courts and—”
“I know. But how will it look?”
“Good point.” Damage at the drill site would look like she was lashing out and trying to get even. The Hackman Oil attorneys would be thrilled to have a reason to sue her, even if she was totally innocent. “We have to stop them.”
“See? I’m right. I’m watching out for my girl.”
Sarah shone her flashlight beam in the direction of the B and B. “At least, let’s go back and get the truck. Sure, it’s five miles of winding roads to access the site. But driving will still be faster...and warmer.”
“It’s better if we’re quiet. I don’t want Blake to know what I’m doing.”
“Blake Randall?”
“Is there another Blake staying at the B and B?” Emily smirked. Apparently, it was her turn to tease. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t notice him. I saw your eyes melt like big, gooey chocolate drops when he walked through the door tonight.”
“Of course I noticed.” How could she overlook a man who was well over six feet tall and muscular enough to lift a Chevy truck with one hand?
“When you shook his hand, you blushed a darker shade of red than your hair.”
“I’m not a redhead. It’s strawberry-blond. And why shouldn’t Blake know what we’re doing?”
“He’d want to come with us.”
Sarah didn’t see a problem with that. “So?”
“I adore Blake,” Emily said. “He’s going to be the best man at our wedding. But he’s an army ranger, and he has a temper. If he gets ticked off, he might go ballistic.”
“An angry, hulking ranger might be exactly what we need.”
Emily took a step forward. “Let’s keep moving. I want to get this over with.”
Sarah grumbled, “I’m too old for this.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re an ancient thirty-two.”
It felt ancient. Sarah tromped forward. On her right was thick, dark forest. To the left were a few scraggly trees and rocks and the sixteen-foot drop-off. She knew every inch of the land surrounding her B and B and had labeled the nature trails with burnt wood signs so her guests could take hikes and not get lost. This path was called the High Road. If you followed it all the way to the end, beyond the site where Hackman Oil had started drilling, you reached a granite ledge with a panoramic view of the Elk Mountain range outside Aspen. Sadly, that spectacular sight would be blighted by noise pollution from the oil rig left behind after Hackman finished their work. The pristine forest would never look or feel the same.
Using the nonprofit business she ran, the Forest Preservation Society, she’d done everything she could to stop them. In other battles, she’d kept Hackman from drilling in four other locations but had lost this fight which was, ironically, the one closest to her doorstep.
From the path to her right, she saw bright lights shining through the trees, spooking the nocturnal wildlife. This intrusion was so wrong. Frustration and anger surged through her. Though her outrage was caused by the oil company, she could use this energy to argue with the jokers from BOOM.
She veered off the trail and paused at the edge of a wide clearing where she saw a flatbed truck with the Hackman Oil logo, a metal drill pipe stacked in the snow and the derrick hung with lights like a grotesque Christmas tree. A dark-colored van was parked near the entrance to the site. About twenty yards away were four men in parkas and work boots. One of them had a semiautomatic assault rifle slung over his shoulder. They all wore black ski masks.
“Why are they masked?” Emily asked in a whisper.
“There might be surveillance cameras.” If so, Sarah’s presence at the site would be on record as soon as she stepped into the light—an unfortunate fact that would please the Hackman attorneys. “I’m more worried about the assault rifle. They aren’t planning to shoot up the equipment, are they?”
“Liam would never do anything like that.”
“Is that the ex-boyfriend? Liam?”
“Yes.”
Sarah shot her a glare. “Do I need to remind you that you’re getting married in four days?”
“It’s not like that. I’ve been friends with Liam for ten years, and I don’t want to see him thrown in jail.”
Sarah hoped to avoid a similar fate. She was about to drag Emily back to the B and B, but their whispering had attracted the attention of the masked men. The one with the semiautomatic pointed the barrel of his weapon in their direction and yelled, “Who’s there?”
“Don’t shoot.” Sarah pushed the bare branches of shrubs aside and stepped into the light of the clearing. “I came here to talk.”
“Hi, guys.” Emily popped up beside her. “It’s me, Emily.”
“Emily Layton?”
“You sent me a text.” She squinted in their direction. “Where’s Liam?”
A man in a faded red parka stepped forward. “He couldn’t make it, but don’t worry. You can trust me.”
As a general rule, Sarah never trusted anyone who said “trust me.” When Emily started to stroll toward the masked men, she caught hold of her arm. “Stay close to me.”
“Why?”
