Snowed In

Chapter 3

Her Aunt Theresa found her in the kitchen, furiously scrubbing at the pot they had used to make the homemade tomato sauce for the spaghetti they served for dinner that night. After her encounter with Richard freaking Castle, Kate had needed a mind-numbing activity to shut her brain off. It helped… a little. But… did he have to be so damn handsome!?

"Kate… dear, there you are," Theresa smiled, then furrowed her brow as she noticed her niece feverously attacking the pot with a soapy sponge. "Honey, that pot is more than clean. What's the matter?"

"Huh?" Kate blinked and looked down, eyes going wide. Cursing under her breath, she cut the faucet off, and drained the water from the large pot, before putting it on the drying rack. "Just… distracted."

Theresa folded her arms and raised one eyebrow, yet—bless her—didn't press.

Kate quickly inhaled a deep breath to center herself as she dried her hands off with a washcloth. "What did the hospital want?" she asked, purposely changing topics.

"Just calling to confirm some insurance info, and to let me know I can visit Herb tomorrow," her aunt replied. "Doctors want to run more tests in the morning, and then we'll see."

"How's Uncle Herb doing?"

"He's as fine as one can be after having a heart attack, even a minor one," Theresa said with a sad little shrug. "He'll need to take it easy for a while, so I'm grateful for your help. Depending on those tests, I might be able to bring him home tomorrow afternoon." She paused; lips pursed in thought. "How'd it go with that handsome fellow?"

"What… er… oh, um…," Kate stammered, feeling her cheeks start to warm with a blush, betraying her.

"Mr. Rodgers, was it?"

"Oh, um… yeah, that. Fine… everything went fine," Kate said hastily, going for nonchalant, and not entirely sure she was pulling it off.

Her aunt eyed her suspiciously. It was uncanny, the way her aunt could ferret out information from an unwilling quarry. Johanna Beckett had been the same way. All her mom had needed to do was look at her, and she'd instantly know something was amiss. Kate had often pondered, considering her own uniquely strong ability to get suspects to divulge facts during interrogation, if the talent was genetic, shared between all the women in her extended family lineage.

"Then why are you blushing?"

"What!?" Kate nearly screeched, founded out.

"I'm not some blind recluse, dear," Theresa informed her with a knowing smirk. "He might have been going by Richard Rodgers, but I'd be struck dumb if I didn't recognize him for Richard Castle. Jo and I were big fans of his books. And I know you are too."

Kate tried to get a control on the rising flush in her cheeks. "I… um… might have read a few of his books, but—"

"Silly girl," Theresa chuckled. "You're forgetting I drove down to join you for that one book signing. We stood in line for well over an hour to get his signature."

Kate pursed her lips and spun around to the sink, avoiding eye contact with her aunt. "I sometimes forget about how good your memory is."

"It's exciting, isn't it, though."

"What?" Kate questioned, turning back, having reasserted control over her features, relying on her training from the NYPD Police Academy, putting on what her aunt always called her cop face.

"Having a celebrity stay with us!" Theresa thrilled, shaking her head in amazement. "The creator of Derrick Storm. I wonder what he could be doing here? And alone." Her aunt added with a waggle to her eyebrows.

Kate rolled her eyes.

"Hey, last time I checked, you were single, my dear," Theresa said, holding up her hands in defense. "And he's very handsome."

"And a playboy," Kate argued with a visible scowl.

Theresa laughed, shaking her head as stepped over to join Kate by the sink. "You of all people should know not to believe everything that those gossip papers say."

"The photographic evidence is hard to ignore. And besides… I don't think I'm his type."

"And what's that?"

"Blonde and big boobs," Kate said, making her aunt laugh.

"Well, I may be bias, seeing as you're my favorite niece—"

"I'm your only niece."

"True, but still, my statement holds," Theresa grinned, playfully elbowing Kate's side. "You're a stunner."

"Right, right," Kate rolled her eyes, though reluctantly agreed. She was no fool. But knowing she was attractive, didn't mean she liked to always acknowledge it, especially in her line of work. Her beauty was both an asset and detriment to her at times. She worked in a male dominate profession, and Kate worked hard to be taken seriously by her peers. She wanted to be seen as another cop, not just a pretty thing with long legs.

And from what she knew about Richard Castle—true it was mostly from gossip mags and Page 6—the man was a notorious philander, who had been divorced twice and always seemed to bask in the attention of blonde bimbos with large breasts. So, no… even if it was kind of exciting that he was staying at her aunt and uncle's Bed & Breakfast, she wasn't going to make a big deal out it, and she most definitely wasn't going to try something with him—that's if the opportunity even arose—which it would not!

No… she'd just stay clear of him. Because the little interaction she'd had with him only confirmed what she already assumed.

Yeah, she thought to herself, that's definitely never-going-to-happen land.

XXX

Rolling over onto his side, Richard Castle tried to get comfortable. He shifted his weight a little, stretched out his legs, and burrowed into the amazingly soft mattress. Yet he still couldn't go to sleep. Groaning, he pushed back the blankets and cozy comforter, and sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. He scrubbed his hands down his face, letting out a long sigh of frustration.

He hadn't really been that tired when he retired for the evening, but it had been late, and the drive had been so… boring. He thought it best to just try going to bed and then start fresh in the morning. But sleep was elusive. It had been for quite a while, actually, if he was being honest with himself, which he disliked greatly. He preferred to be in denial.

And it wasn't just all about his writing—or lack thereof. It was his life. While it may appear to outsiders that he lived a glamourous life, filled with partying and women, most of that was just PR planned by his manager, in conjunction with Black Pawn's public relations department—mainly influenced by Gina. Since he hadn't been writing, they needed to keep his image out in the public, least his adoring fans forget who he was.

Castle wouldn't deny that he had fun. He did. Mostly. But underneath the façade, it was all quite shallow. Most of the women he'd been seen with weren't there because of him—the real him—but the free publicity they got by being seen on his arm. And not as many invited him to their beds as the magazines and gossip papers would later imply.

In short, despite all the parties, talk show interviews, and women, Richard Castle, playboy extraordinaire, was actually incredibly lonely. And bored.

Life just wasn't exciting any more. There was nothing to challenge him, no spark or magic. He wanted magic. Something that alluded him in most, if not all, of his past relationships. Perhaps he was still pining for the one who got away.

Sighing again, Castle brushed the flop of hair back from his forehead, and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. Standing up, he reached for the burgundy bathrobe he'd found in the standing wardrobe. It was interesting that the gorgeous woman at the front counter had called this a suite. It was just a room, slightly bigger than his bedroom back home, but still just a room. Not a suite. There was no ensuite bathroom. Mornings were going to be hectic with the shared lavatory in the hall.

At least the room—sorry, suite—was cozy.

Grabbing his room key, Castle shoved them into the robe's pocket, and shuffled out into the hall. He paused after closing the door, abruptly realizing he didn't know where or what he was going to do. And then his stomach rumbled, and he was reminded that he arrived too late for dinner, and hadn't really eaten anything since lunch unless he counted the chocolate chip cookie and bag of chips he'd purchased from a gas station convenience store.

Turning, he padded down the hall, thankful for the plugin nightlights along the base by the floorboards, and made his way to the staircase. Gripping the banister, he slowly made his way down into the foyer. There was a little light on by the check-in counter, but it was mostly dark and empty. Squinting in the dim lighting, Castle maneuvered his way through the sitting room and the adjourning dining hall. There was a swinging door that when pushed revealed a surprisingly spacious kitchen, with a little breakfast nook in the corner with large windows that looked out into the wooded area beyond the property.

Moonlight filtered in, giving him some visibility. He was just about to open the refrigerator when suddenly he was blinded by an unexpected flash as the overhead light flickered on.

"Guests aren't allowed back here," came an authoritative voice that held a melodious quality.

Blinking, Castle spun around in place to find himself in the crosshairs of the steely gaze from the brunette beauty—Kate Beckett. He curled his lips up, pleased at his good fortune, even if she was staring him down with an almost hostile intent.

"Sorry, my mistake," he offered, raising a hand in apology. "Just a little peckish. I missed dinner."

"Oh," her annoyance dropped a smidgen, but not by much. "You should have said."

She moved forward and he stepped aside to make way for her. He took the opportunity to take in her appearance. She was wearing an oversized purple t-shirt and black leggings that just so happened to show off her toned and shapely legs. Her brunette hair was tied up in a messy bun, allowing him a glimpse at the gentle curve of her elegant neck.

Castle couldn't help but be in awe of her natural beauty. There was nothing artificial about her appearance, and that made it all the more appealing. His attraction to her was almost magnetic. He just couldn't keep his eyes off her, watching as she moved about the kitchen and into what must be the pantry.

"Peanut butter and jelly okay?" she asked, eyeing him curiously.

"That's fine," he forced out, surprised at how tongue-tied he felt around her.

She pursed her lips in a tight smile. He could almost call it amusement, maybe even a touch of pride. Castle watched as she set about making two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Evidently, she was joining him. At least in the partaking of a midnight snack.

"How long have you worked here?" he blurted out, filter completely gone, which was about on average for him, really.

A perfect eyebrow rose as she appraised him with a calculating look. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," he shrugged his shoulders. "You just don't look like you're from around here."

She turned back to her preparations and chuckled lightly. He couldn't really get a read on it, especially with her back to him. Though, he didn't mind the view. Those leggings hugged her ass just right.

"The owner, Theresa Hollister," she answered at length, as if weighing how much to reveal. "She's my aunt. I'm just here to help out while my uncle is in the hospital."

"Oh… sorry to hear that," he said, actually genuine, which surprised him. Something about this woman made him want to be authentic, without pretense, which was odd. It had been a long time since he'd truly felt comfortable enough to be real with someone who wasn't family. Yet, he barely knew this woman, so why did he feel such sincerity? It baffled him. But he couldn't stop himself from just wanting to connect with her—and not just in a physical way. That, alone, was very unusual.

She nodded, a strange look ghosting across her lovely features, before it vanished. There was something about her eyes. Something that made him sad.

Before long, she was turning around and offering him a paper plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "You can eat this in your room."

"Milk?"

She smirked. "Forgot that. You okay with one of those little kiddie carton ones?"

"Fine… got chocolate milk?"

She rolled her eyes and snorted at that, but he could see the flash of levity across her face. And it made his pulse thrum with a thrill that he could inject some happiness into her life, no matter how brief.

"What are you, five?" she chuckled, yet still filled his request, handing him a small individual carton of chocolate milk from the refrigerator. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Castle."

"You can call me Rick," he offered with one of his patented grins, oozing with charm.

"Um," she hesitated, her wondrous eyes dropping briefly to his lips before lifting back up. "While you're a guest at the Hollister Bed & Breakfast you'll be Mr. Castle." She paused, her nose wrinkling adorably. And then she looked him back in the eyes and smiled politely. "Night, Mr. Castle."

"Until tomorrow."

She frowned.

"I'm a writer," he explained, finding himself speaking from the heart. "Night is boring… until tomorrow is more… hopeful."

She thought about that for a long beat, and nodded. "Okay… then, until tomorrow, Mr. Castle."

And then she was ducking out of the kitchen with her plate and shutting the lights off, leaving him in darkness.

Castle just stood there for a moment, and smiled. For the first time in a long while he actually, really did feel hopeful for tomorrow.