Toward the Dawn (WESTERN LIGHT #2) by Mary Connealy EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Mary Connealy
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 11.2 MB
- Price: Free
MAY 1870
“I’m going to tear this canyon entrance open with my bare hands.”
Sebastian Jones had endured. He’d lasted the whole winter trapped in here.
He hadn’t known just how much he’d hate it—a hate that had started strong
and kept building—until he found out there was no escape.
“Seb, will you stop? The canyon will melt open when it melts opens.”
Seb whirled to face the little woman who had probably saved his life last
spring when she and her friends had found him, shot, in an alley in
Independence, Missouri.
“Kat, just go away. I’m busy losing my mind.” Seb tried to unclench . . .
his jaw, his fists, his gut. He’d been doing it for months, deliberately forcing
himself to breathe, remain calm, endure.
“When is this ever going to melt?” Arriving at the bitter, dead end of his
endurance, he threw his arms wide and exploded at Kat, who had done
nothing to deserve this.
She marched straight at him, her own fists clenched, and he braced
himself to take a blow to the chin. Or maybe duck.
Then she marched right past him and plowed a fist into the stupid
snowdrift that had blocked this canyon closed since January. “I hate it, too.”
That pulled Seb up short, distracted him from the sense of being trapped.
A little. “You hate it, too?”
She yanked her fist out of the snow, stared at her knuckles for a long,
cold second, then slugged the snowdrift again with her other hand. Her fists
left tidy dents. Then she whirled to face him. Fists red and raw and still
clenched.
Again, he braced himself.
“Yes!” She threw her arms wide.
“Why didn’t you say something?” He jabbed a pointy finger right at her
shoulder. “You’ve been listening to me rant and complain all winter.” He
poked her again, hard enough that she backed up a step. “Let me behave
like some ungrateful, irrational madman.” Poke, poke, poke. A poke for
each insult he dealt himself. “And while I whined and moaned, you
watched me with that tidy little complacent smile on your face.” Another
poke, but this time she swatted his hand aside. “You did that while you
agreed with me?” He jabbed her again. “That’s just pure mean of you. You
could at least have spoken up, divided their attention.”
“By ‘their,’ you mean the people that took us both in? Fed and clothed
us? Saved us, transported us across the country, gave us a home and heat
and friendship?”
Seb fell silent, watching her. The wind buffeted them. The beautiful
canyon stretched out for miles. But the narrow-necked entrance to the
hidden canyon stood clogged with snow up to at least twenty feet over their
heads. Probably higher, as he couldn’t see the top.
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