Snowbound Bride. Cathy Thacker Gillen

girl with long golden-brown hair that fell nearly to her waist. And an older gentleman with neat salt-and-pepper hair and a matching, well-trimmed beard.

      Wasting no time, the woman greeted Nora with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m Clara Whittaker.” She extended a hand, then made introductions briefly. “This is my husband, Harold, and my grand-daughter Kimberlee.”

      “Hello. It’s nice to meet you all. You can call me Nora.” She’d prefer not to use last names, but clearly, Nora thought, they were so friendly and so informal, something in the way of a greeting was required.

      “That’s a lovely wedding dress….” Kimberlee said.

      “Thanks.” Nora smiled at the teen as she selected a warm green-and-black wool scarf and matching insulated mittens and carried them to the counter.

      “Getting married soon?” Clara Whittaker asked, smiling all the more.

      “I was hoping to…” Nora said honestly. Someday, when I met my Mr. Right.

      Smiling broadly, Clara Whittaker looked behind Nora. While her husband began ringing up Nora’s purchase, Clara smoothed a hand down the folds of her neat corduroy shirtdress. Her light brown eyes twinkling merrily, she said, “I don’t see your groom.”

      Nora gave them all an it’s-a-long-story, one-I’m-really-not-at-liberty-to-reveal look. “My…er…um…groom is not here with me right now,” she said finally, after a great deal of wrestling with her conscience.

      “Do you know when he’ll be here?” Kimberlee asked inquisitively, taking the sensors off Nora’s purchases.

      “No, I don’t know when—” or even if, Nora amended silently “—he’ll catch up with me. Probably not before the storm descends upon us full blast, though.”

      Deciding to change the subject before any more questions were asked of her that required honest—if uncomfortable—replies, Nora turned to the framed poster of Gus Whittaker and two of the New York Knicks displayed on the wall. “Are you related to the Gus Whittaker?”

      Clara and Harold nodded proudly as Harold bagged Nora’s purchases. “He’s our grandson.”

      “Really,” Nora said. So Gus Whittaker was the one who’d been talking about Clover Creek. That was why she remembered it. Why was everyone grinning as though they knew a secret or something? she wondered.

      Nora searched through her billfold and extricated enough cash to pay for her purchases. “I met him several years ago, when I was working for Leland and Brooks, an advertising agency in New York City. Several of Gus’s clients were—are—celebrity spokespersons for L and B’s key accounts. Hence, Gus and his celebrity clients were invited to all the L and B parties. And, well, you know Gus.” Nora smiled and gestured inanely. “He makes it a point to seek out all the young, available females.”

      “Did the two of you hit it off, right from the first moment you met?” Kimberlee asked, stars in her eyes.

      Nora flushed; she didn’t know quite how to answer that. Clearly, Gus’s whole family adored him, and they seemed to have already decided that was what had happened. “Well, yes,” Nora replied carefully after a moment. Then she hastened to add, “Although that first meeting was pretty hectic, with all the people at the party, the noise and the confusion…”

      “Of course…” Everyone nodded.

      A bell sounded, signaling that someone else had come into the store. Nora turned, her jaw dropping open slightly as she saw the sexy sheriff she’d met earlier stride toward the group. She stared at the lawman as he walked across the polished wood floor, hardly able to believe they’d crossed paths again!

      “But later you got to know Gus better…?” Clara asked.

      Nora had temporarily lost her hearing, her sense of sight draining all her other faculties.

      Her heart pounding, she turned away from the sexy sheriff, who was heading her way. “Um, yes, I guess you could say that.” Nora smiled at Gus’s family, wanting to say something pleasant about the Whittakers’ grandson. “Everyone in the sports management business tries to emulate Gus these days—he’s that successful.” If unconventional in the extreme… “And a very nice guy, as well.”

      Again, everyone beamed proudly at the compliments Nora bestowed on Gus.

      A quick glance revealed that the sheriff was talking to other shoppers in the store, but he still had Nora in his sights. Whether he was on to the particulars of her plight or not, Nora could not tell.

      “So, when’s Gus arriving in Clover Creek?” Harold asked as the sheriff eventually came to a halt beside Nora and the others.

      Nora blinked, as thrown by the abrupt switch in topics as she was by the lawman’s deliberate pursuit of, and proximity to, her. “I really couldn’t say,” she replied, somewhat hoarsely, not sure why they were asking her that. “I haven’t talked to Gus lately.”

      “But you will soon?” Clara pressed. As the lawman stepped even closer to her, Nora was inundated by the clean, woodsy scent of his cologne.

      “I—don’t know,” Nora hedged slowly, not wanting to hurt or offend any of Gus’s family.

      Harold smiled, looked at the sheriff, and then back at Nora. “Have you met Sam yet?”

      Nora blinked. “Who?”

      Harold winked at Nora slyly, even as he gestured at the sheriff warmly. “Our other grandson!”

      Nora took a calming breath as she and the sheriff stared at each other in contemplative silence. Oh, no—no! “You’re—?”

      “Gus Whittaker’s younger brother, Sam,” he confirmed with a tantalizing grin as he swaggered closer and his gaze moved across her upturned face. “And you’re…?”

      Suffused with heat everywhere his eyes had roved, Nora swallowed and stepped back. “Nora,” she said simply, deciding to leave it at that. Dear heaven, this was a complication she did not need. Especially now!

      “Nora,” Sam repeated, as if liking the sound of her name. He studied her, then asked, in a soft, low voice laced with laughter, “Do you have a last name?”

      “Yes,” Nora replied, as she looked into his golden-brown eyes with all the directness she could muster. “It’s…”

      “She’s one of Gus’s very good, shall we say, friends, from New York City,” Harold supplied helpfully.

      “Wait,” Nora corrected hastily, holding up a palm in traffic-cop fashion. “I never said Gus and I were actually, you know, buddies—” She and Gus were more like acquaintances. Remote acquaintances.

      “We know you didn’t, dear,” Clara patted her arm forgivingly.

      “We know Gus would want to tell us himself,” Harold beamed.

      “Tell you what?” Nora wheezed, perplexed.

      “About his plans, of course,” Clara said.

      Nora regarded the Whittakers cautiously. She felt as if she’d landed in a TV sitcom. One of the wacky, humor-filled kinds that didn’t necessarily have to make a lot of sense. “What are you talking about?” she demanded warily, already dreading the reply.

      “Sweetheart, it’s all right, we know,” Harold counseled her warmly.

      Sensing that whatever they were talking about, they were deadly serious, Nora fought to contain her mounting exasperation. “Know what?” she cried, upset.

      Clara beamed, her own happiness evident. “You’re Gus’s fiancée!”

      Chapter Two

      NORA TOOK A deep breath and tried, as nicely as possible, to explain. “I know there’s been a lot of confusion today, what with the storm and all, but Gus