Love Story for a Snow Princess (Siren Publishing Classic) (2 page)

“I have an SUV ready for us,” Mr. Ford told her, still holding onto one of her bags. “I have you booked at the Princess Hotel. Tomorrow you’ll be able to meet Mr. Tasker.”

“All right,” she answered. “Thank you, Hank, for the pep talk.”

He winked at her as he unloaded her luggage into the back of the black SUV. “I’ll be around. And don’t forget that the first Saturday in December is the Fireman’s Carnival in Nome. As long as I’m able, I fly every day the first two weeks of the month for various things, including Christmas shopping.”

“Christmas,” she murmured and looked around the snow. “I’m not used to snow but seeing it makes me think December isn’t that far away.”

When Hank shut the door he gave her an assessing glance. “What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to dinner, Hank? For shame, I’m almost a married woman.”

He laughed. “No. Well, yes, but I thought you’d like to meet Miki. It might help, having a friend ready.”

She shot a questioning glance at Mr. Ford, who only shrugged, indicting she had an evening free. And being with company helped keep away the loneliness.

“That sounds good, Hank,” she replied.

“Great! I’ll come and escort you to the diner. It’s not wise walking out here at night when you don’t know where to go.”

She waved at Hank as they took off down the snow-packed road, easing into the darkened little town of River Ice, Alaska. It was hard to make out the various buildings, but they all looked the same. All seemed to be windowless tract homes raised off the ground or sheds, or various other structures frosted with snow, with wires connecting all the roofs. They soon came to probably the only hotel for miles around, a two-story building painted a nice dark red with black trim. A light hung above a door, and a sign that read “Princess Hotel” hung in front of it. Through the blowing wind and circulating snow, it looked warm and inviting, and Thea was awfully happy to see it. The heater hadn’t had time to warm the cab, and her shivers were starting to rattle her teeth.

Mr. Ford managed to haul all her luggage inside even though she volunteered to help. He waved her off and followed after her.

The warmth of the foyer hit her immediately, the pleasant decor a mixture of beige, dark green, and brown. A fire crackled invitingly against one wall with a pair of overstuffed leather recliners temptingly placed nearby. On the left side, by the door, was the registration counter.

A young woman came from the back, smiling as she caught sight of them. She had dark eyes and high cheekbones. Her long black hair was braided in two long plaits and tucked behind each ear.

“Welcome!” she said, enthusiasm making her voice a tad loud. “Welcome to the Princess Hotel and to River Ice, Alaska. I’m Sandy Cikauq, the manager.”

“Thank you, Ms. Cikauq,” Mr. Ford greeted as he placed the luggage carefully down. “I’m Yancy Ford with Illa Partnership Services. This is Miss Panthea Snow, checking in.”

“Of course!” Sandy sat some forms on the counter. “If you would please fill these out.”

As Thea filled out the information, she sensed Sandy staring at her. She glanced up and caught the young girl’s gaze. Sandy blushed and looked away, back to her computer screen.

“Ms. Snow, I have you in room four, down the hall, and Mr. Ford you’ll be in room seven,” Sandy informed them. She sat two keys down before taking the completed paperwork back.

“Thank you,” Thea said, taking her key.

Mr. Ford put his key in his coat and then hefted Thea’s luggage once again to take to her room. Thea was glad it was a short walk. She opened her door and glanced around the sparse yet comfortable room. There was a double bed neatly made with a blue and white patterned quilt that looked homemade to Thea and a fairly large armoire on top of which sat a small television. A desk and chair rested by the window. Other than a few impersonal paintings on the wall, there wasn’t any other furnishing.

“I’ll put these here?” Mr. Ford inquired, setting her bags just inside the door.

“Yes,” she murmured and moved to give him room.

“Illa Partnership Services has you booked here until after your wedding,” Mr. Ford replied.

“And when is that again?”

“Tomorrow you and Mr. Tasker will meet for breakfast. You’ll both have time to talk and get acquainted. The wedding is booked for the day after. Did you bring a suitable dress, or would you like Illa to provide one?”

Thea shook her head. “I–I brought my own,” she stuttered. Her heart accelerated quickly at the extreme closeness of her wedding date.

Mr. Ford gave her a brief, if somewhat impersonal smile. “Then have a nice evening, Miss Snow.”

He shut the door behind him with a firm click.

Thea carefully took off her coat and hung it on a hanger from inside the armoire before slipping off her boots and wiggled her toes through the thick wool socks. She walked into the tiny attached bathroom and squinted against the harsh fluorescent light overhead. Her reflection in the mirror showed nothing more than a ghost of a girl. Her hair looked really red against the paleness of her face, and that depressed her even more. So she went back into the room and turned around in a circle, trying to look at the décor in a different way, at a different angle. But everywhere she saw only the lonely desperation of a girl trying to rebuild a life.

Tears welled in her eyes as the crushing weight of abandonment settled on her shoulders. A small part of her brain told her she was being melodramatic, but that part was quickly drowned out by crashing waves of desolation. She almost wished she could fall into apathy, but even that small measure of sanity eluded her.

It took quite a bit of effort to change her traveling clothes and make some semblance out of her ravaged hair. And as soon as she brushed it out, she realized the wool hat would have to go right back on.

So much for hair care
.

Thea marched back downstairs, suddenly wishing she hadn’t accepted Hank’s offer. All she wanted to do was take her pills and sleep.

But as soon as she saw Hank waiting for her shame flooded through her. This was way she had left Malibu, to start making friends and to start living again. Thea plastered a smile on her face and stepped forward.

“Hank!” greeted a woman who was the feminine version of Hank. As with most of the population here, long black hair and dark eyes complemented her striking facial features. “You just get in?”

“Just put the plane to bed. Miki, this is Panthea Snow.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Thea held out her hand. “You have a great restaurant.”

Miki laughed and shook her hand. “Not sure if you could justify having four items on a menu as a restaurant, but I thank you.”

“I didn’t want her to be alone this evening,” Hank said. “That guy from Illa just checked her into the hotel and left her.”

“It’s okay, Hank,” Thea said. “I guess I’ll need the rest for tomorrow.”

Miki cocked her head. “That’s right! Aren’t you getting married?”

“Loose lips, Miki,” Hark warned.

Miki quickly looked around. “Sorry, Thea. Though it’s hard keeping something like that a secret here in River Ice. Listen, why don’t you two sit at the end of the bar and relax a little. What’ll you have?”

“Got any decaf?” Hank asked.

“Sure do. Thea? I got some great stew made.”

“That sounds great.”

Miki placed a coffee in front of Hank then ran into the back. She came back out after a few minutes with a steaming bowl that she placed in front of Thea. Miki leaned over and grabbed some silverware and a saltshaker and placed it by the bowl.

She listened to Miki and Hank talk as she ate, savoring the hearty stew full of potatoes and carrots. Though the meat was a little tough, Thea chewed slowly to savor every bite.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, even after she had finished and Miki had whisked away the dirty bowl. The restaurant was warm and cozy and she was loath to leave it.

Without a watch she couldn’t be sure of the time, but her lids were drooping when the door opened, and a gust of cold wind blew in with it. Thea shivered and looked over her shoulder. A man walked in. Tall and bundled completely from head to toe in winter gear, he pushed back the hood of his parka and lifted his goggles. Thea blinked and found her breath catching in her throat as she locked gazes with the most incredible green eyes she had ever seen, ringed with thick, dark lashes she would give her eyeteeth for. The hard planes and angles of his sculptured face looked like it rarely, if ever, smiled. He was a big man, austere, the boldness of his features only emphasizing his stark masculinity.

He sported a close-cropped beard and mustache the color of pitch, so black in the overhead lighting that it rippled with a blue sheen. With wide shoulders and a narrow waist, he could have graced the cover of
GQ
magazine, sheepskin boots and all.

She shook her head to make sure he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Their eyes met again, and an odd, exhilarating feeling swept through her.

He neither smiled nor acknowledged her. “Hank, Miki,” he said and his deep voice rumbled through the room.

Unnerved, Thea hopped off the barstool. “I should be going. Busy day tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Miki replied. “Hank will escort you back.”

“He doesn’t have to escort me,” Thea protested. “It’s not that far.”

“Yeah, but it’s dark and there’s a storm starting.”

Not wanting to argue, especially in front of the handsome stranger, Thea only nodded. Moments later, bundled up, Hank nodded at the man, called out a good-bye, and led the way outside.

* * * *

Later, back in her room, Thea reached into her purse and took out two prescription bottles. Walking into the bathroom, she opened each bottle and shook out a pill. She turned on the water and leaned her head near the stream to grab a mouthful to wash the medication down. Leaving the bottles on the bathroom counter, she collapsed onto the bed, curling tightly in a ball. Hugging her pillow to her chest, the emotions of the day finally burst out and she poured out her grief into the soft plushness. She used the pillow to muffle the sound of her sobs, crying until her exhausted body caved to sleep.

The dream came again, as it did almost every night. Even the pills couldn’t keep it away.

Thea sat in the back of the car, her older sister sat on her right and her younger brother on her left. In the front seat, Thea’s dad drove and her mom sat half-turned to talk to her children.

There was laughter in her dream, as well as a sense of contentment. Thea felt full from the lovely dinner they had just shared, celebrating her parents’ thirtieth anniversary with wine and song. They had driven from their home in Malibu into LA, dining at a small, hole in the wall Italian restaurant located in Miracle Mile, near the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the La Brea Tar Pits. It had been the restaurant Thea’s father had taken her mother on their very first date.

They were a tight family. Thea’s sister, Hera, was three years older and still lived at home. She had just graduated college and had decided to work with their father at the law firm. Thea attended UCLA, studying education, but she came home every weekend. And her little brother, Jason, stood a little over six feet and wasn’t quite so little, attended Malibu high school. They were all proud of him because he played water polo and had just gotten a full scholarship.

The open windows allowed the cool night air to filter through the car. Thea leaned her head on her brother’s shoulder as the night air blew over her, lulling her into a light doze. Traffic was thick, as usual, for the ride home. Tourist season was in full swing, and crowds flocked to Santa Monica for the beach, though Thea thought the beaches there sucked. She really loved her Malibu home, which had a magnificent view over the water.

Thea’s mother was telling a joke. She couldn’t remember it now, but it must have been funny because she felt her brother’s shoulder shake as he laughed. She remembered her sister’s phone ringing.

And then she heard her sister screaming. The car jolted as another vehicle sideswiped them. The crunch of metal, the shattering of glass, and the piercing sound of sirens screamed through the night.

Thea struggled to wake herself from the nightmare. Twisting and turning in the blankets, she couldn’t breathe. She was suffocating, mentally trapped in the realm of death. Behind her closed eyes she saw nothing but blood, rivers of it flowing over her face, dripping into her eyes and mouth as she screamed herself awake. With a Herculean effort, she pushed through the mound of material that covered her and she sat upright.

She ran her shaking hands over her face, making sure there wasn’t any blood, though the rational part of her mind knew the accident was a million years behind her. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t erase the metallic taste of blood from her mouth.

Her hands shook as she turned on the bedside light. She pushed back the covers and padded to the bathroom, where she grabbed one of her prescription bottles, opened it, and shook out another pill. She didn’t even make a face as she chewed it up and swallowed it without water.

Thea sat alone at the table in the hotel’s small dining area waiting for her destiny to show up. Mr. Caleb Tasker. Her future husband.

Mrs. Tasker.

Panthea Tasker.

Thea Tasker.

She wished she liked the sound of that, but truth be told she didn’t. Actually, she was scared as hell for what she was about to do. Marry a stranger. Be his wife. Share a bed with him. Start a family.

She needed a family as soon as possible. She needed…
something
.

One month ago she had seen an advertisement on the computer asking for women to meet potential husbands in areas where the ratio of men to women was extremely high. At first she ignored it, but something in the back of her mind kept nagging at her, so she had returned to reread the article. That night the nightmare struck with a vengeance. The squeal of tires, the smell of burning fuel, and the blood going
drip, drip, drip
all had her sitting up in bed, screaming. Right then she’d realized she couldn’t go on. There wasn’t enough therapy in the world that could erase the pain from her heart or the memories from her mind. She needed to start over. She needed something to force her to get up in the mornings, because she was fast losing the will to even do that.