Read Online Bedding Down, A Collection of Winter Erotica by Rachel Krame Bussel - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Krame Bussel
Ads: Link
of
black and purple, they were now all shades of green and yellow.
She joked that she looked like one of those alien life-forms on the late-night documentary channels.
S ix W eeks on S unrise M ountain, C olorado 63
“I miss television,” she sighed.
“What’s television?”
She threw a rolled-up pair of socks at him and laughed.
In the few days she had been on his mountain, Fletcher had
learned quite a bit about Janine. Once the woman started talk-
ing, she didn’t want to stop, and that was just fine with him. It felt good to hear a voice other than his own. She brought stories of the outside world, and though Fletcher maintained that he
was perfectly happy on his mountain, it was nice to hear tales of the world that was spinning along just fine without him.
“Don’t you have friends who worry?” she asked one night, as
they sat before the crackling fire.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t have time for friends.”
“What did you do for fun?”
Fletcher shrugged. “I worked. That’s all I did.”
“There had to be more to your life than that. You were seen
everywhere with Amanda Whitmore. You don’t date a famous
actress if your whole life is spent behind a computer screen.”
“You asked what I did for fun , Janine.”
In the firelight her bruises looked like shadows, and he saw
what she would look like when they were gone. Her jaw was
sharp, almost too sharp, but the softness of her eyes made up
for it. When she smiled, her whole face was transformed, and
she went from pretty to beautiful.
“I don’t understand,” she said slowly.
“It was fun until we became such a spectacle. Do you know
what it’s like to be followed everywhere? To be constantly aware of what you’re doing and how you look, because you never know
where a camera is lurking?”
Janine tossed a thin stick of kindling on the fire. They both
64
G wen M asters
watched as it flared, turned to ash and disappeared. She picked up the poker and moved the logs around, sending up embers.
“I have no idea,” she admitted.
Fletcher stretched his legs out in front of the fire. “It de-
stroyed me and Amanda. It became more about what the public
thought about us than what we thought about each other.”
“You really loved her, didn’t you?”
Fletcher didn’t look at Janine. Instead he studied the fire,
watched as the flames changed colors, and thought about
Amanda. Where was she now? What was she doing? Who was
she with? A woman like her wouldn’t be alone for long.
“I did love her,” he said. “But love doesn’t conquer every-
thing.”
Janine stood up and walked to the kitchen. Fletcher was left
alone with the fire and his thoughts, like he had been so many
long nights before, and suddenly he wondered if it was what he
still wanted. What would it be like when the snow melted and
the ice disappeared? Janine would leave his mountain, and there might be a story or two about him, but eventually he would be
written off as an eccentric and mostly forgotten. That didn’t
bother him much. What bothered him was the return of the
silence. It had been comforting when it was all he had known on the mountain—when the cabin’s walls had never heard a voice
other than his own—but now that illusion had been shattered.
She came back with two mugs of thick, rich coffee. He sipped
it while he listened to her settle down beside him again. She had a quietness that took time getting used to, a way of moving that made him slow down and pay attention. He watched her delicate wrists as she took a sip from the mug.
“Is there anyone who misses you?” he asked.
S ix W eeks on S unrise M ountain, C olorado 65
Janine shook her head. “Not really. My folks died a few years
back—cancer, both of them, within six months of each other.
No siblings, no kids. My work is my baby. My friends are used
to me going on assignment for weeks at a time, so they won’t be alarmed just yet.”
That wasn’t what
black and purple, they were now all shades of green and yellow.
She joked that she looked like one of those alien life-forms on the late-night documentary channels.
S ix W eeks on S unrise M ountain, C olorado 63
“I miss television,” she sighed.
“What’s television?”
She threw a rolled-up pair of socks at him and laughed.
In the few days she had been on his mountain, Fletcher had
learned quite a bit about Janine. Once the woman started talk-
ing, she didn’t want to stop, and that was just fine with him. It felt good to hear a voice other than his own. She brought stories of the outside world, and though Fletcher maintained that he
was perfectly happy on his mountain, it was nice to hear tales of the world that was spinning along just fine without him.
“Don’t you have friends who worry?” she asked one night, as
they sat before the crackling fire.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t have time for friends.”
“What did you do for fun?”
Fletcher shrugged. “I worked. That’s all I did.”
“There had to be more to your life than that. You were seen
everywhere with Amanda Whitmore. You don’t date a famous
actress if your whole life is spent behind a computer screen.”
“You asked what I did for fun , Janine.”
In the firelight her bruises looked like shadows, and he saw
what she would look like when they were gone. Her jaw was
sharp, almost too sharp, but the softness of her eyes made up
for it. When she smiled, her whole face was transformed, and
she went from pretty to beautiful.
“I don’t understand,” she said slowly.
“It was fun until we became such a spectacle. Do you know
what it’s like to be followed everywhere? To be constantly aware of what you’re doing and how you look, because you never know
where a camera is lurking?”
Janine tossed a thin stick of kindling on the fire. They both
64
G wen M asters
watched as it flared, turned to ash and disappeared. She picked up the poker and moved the logs around, sending up embers.
“I have no idea,” she admitted.
Fletcher stretched his legs out in front of the fire. “It de-
stroyed me and Amanda. It became more about what the public
thought about us than what we thought about each other.”
“You really loved her, didn’t you?”
Fletcher didn’t look at Janine. Instead he studied the fire,
watched as the flames changed colors, and thought about
Amanda. Where was she now? What was she doing? Who was
she with? A woman like her wouldn’t be alone for long.
“I did love her,” he said. “But love doesn’t conquer every-
thing.”
Janine stood up and walked to the kitchen. Fletcher was left
alone with the fire and his thoughts, like he had been so many
long nights before, and suddenly he wondered if it was what he
still wanted. What would it be like when the snow melted and
the ice disappeared? Janine would leave his mountain, and there might be a story or two about him, but eventually he would be
written off as an eccentric and mostly forgotten. That didn’t
bother him much. What bothered him was the return of the
silence. It had been comforting when it was all he had known on the mountain—when the cabin’s walls had never heard a voice
other than his own—but now that illusion had been shattered.
She came back with two mugs of thick, rich coffee. He sipped
it while he listened to her settle down beside him again. She had a quietness that took time getting used to, a way of moving that made him slow down and pay attention. He watched her delicate wrists as she took a sip from the mug.
“Is there anyone who misses you?” he asked.
S ix W eeks on S unrise M ountain, C olorado 65
Janine shook her head. “Not really. My folks died a few years
back—cancer, both of them, within six months of each other.
No siblings, no kids. My work is my baby. My friends are used
to me going on assignment for weeks at a time, so they won’t be alarmed just yet.”
That wasn’t what
Similar Books
