"I know exactly what you mean," Trey said with a half smile as he rubbed his chin. "Why were you out in the snow?"
Olivia toyed with her cake. The reason was silly. What the heck, she decided. If he laughed, well, she'd simply laugh with him.
"My hair."
Eyebrow raised, Trey's eyes fell on her mass of red curls.
"Lovely. But hardly reason for you to drive into a blizzard."
"The snow started in earnest after I was on the road."
"Should have turned back."
By the time Olivia noticed that the few light flakes had turned into an impenetrable white wall, she'd lost track of time and had no idea where she was.
The judgment in Trey's tone was justified. Still, his words stung.
"Sorry." His smile was a balm and sent her heartbeat racing. "I'm just grateful I found you. Tell me about your hair."
Olivia inherited the color from the father she never knew. The curls, a little wild and hard to control, were from her mother. Like the color of her eyes or the shape of her nose, she didn't give her hair a second thought—until Aunt Gayle.
"My aunt said the curls on top of the color make me look like a wild heathen. For years, she made me straighten my hair and tone down the red. The day before we came here, I finally rebelled."
"You were tired of hiding."
Surprised by Trey's spot-on observation, Olivia frowned.
"How did you know?"
"Until recently, I was guilty of the same thing." Trey shrugged. "Long story."
Sensing an underlying tension in his casual words, Olivia smiled.
"I don't have anywhere to be."
"True," he said, returning her smile.
"So…?" Olivia was more than intrigued. She wanted—needed—to know more about Trey. "I'm listening."
"My past isn't a subject I've talked about in a long time—until recently. Not in any depth. If the snow keeps falling?" He shrugged. "Maybe."
Unless the weather forecast was completely off base, they would be trapped in his home for days. The idea didn't bother Olivia. In fact, if she had to choose between time with her family or a gorgeous stranger and his adorable dog, Trey and Carmichael won—hands down.
Trey set their empty plates on the table then tucked a crocheted blanket over Olivia's lap and around her legs. The gesture seemed second nature for him. Suddenly, she had a flash of insight. His good looks and sexy smile were nice. But what made Trey irresistible was inside.
The revelation made perfect sense. After all, Olivia knew she could never lose her heart to a man who wasn't kind and caring.
Olivia's brain stuttered to a stop. Lose her heart? To a man she barely knew? Was she crazy?
"You didn't finish."
Trey's words pulled Olivia from her musings. Taking a breath to calm her pounding pulse, she met his gaze, worried he'd somehow read her outlandish thoughts. He simply looked back without a flicker of comprehension.
"Finish what?" she asked with a relieved sigh.
"Your story? Why I found you in the woods, unconscious, covered with snow?"
"Right." Olivia searched her memory but was lost. "Where did I leave off?"
"Your aunt didn't approve of your hair. So soft." Trey touched the end of one curl. "She's wrong, by the way. Not that my opinion matters. But, I think Mother Nature knew what she was doing. The red and the curls suit you perfectly."
Trey's opinion didn't matter. Even if he'd landed on the side of Aunt Gayle, she wasn't about to change her mind. Nothing would make her straighten her hair again.
However, Olivia wasn't immune to a compliment sincerely given.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
As the seconds ticked by, Olivia thought Trey might kiss her again. Hoped he would. She was close to taking matters into her own hands—a thrilling thought—when he dropped his hand and settled into the corner of the sofa and the moment passed. She could have launched herself at him. Unfortunately, tempting as the idea was, her new-found confidence didn't reach to the point of outright sexual aggression.
"Olivia?"
"Hmm?"
"Finish your story."
Olivia ignored the heat on her cheeks—only a light pink—continued.
"To say Aunt Gayle wasn't happy is an understatement. We argued the moment I walked in the door, curls defiantly bouncing."
"Good imagery."
"Think so?" Olivia beamed.
"Yes." He chuckled. "What did your aunt say?
"A better question would be, what didn't she say. I've never known Aunt Gayle to be at a loss for words, especially when she's unhappy with someone else's actions. In the past, I would take what she had to dish out."
"Not this time?"
"Nope." At the time, Olivia's stomach twisted into a knot. Now, she felt nothing but pride and satisfaction. "We argued all the way to the airport, on the plane, on the car ride to her sister's house."
"Sounds like a soothing start to your vacation."
Soothing was not a word Olivia associated with her aunt even at the best of times. This morning? She had to remind herself how little time had passed.
"Enough was enough. After an ultra-tense breakfast, I was argued out. Plus, I felt terrible. We'd turned the holiday into a battleground. To give us all a break, I jumped in the rental car. Snow had started to fall, but I didn't notice. My mind on other things, I drove straight into trouble."
"When your car went off the road—"
"I know," Olivia interrupted. As much as she deserved Trey's censor, she didn't want to hear him say the words. "I should have stayed in the car."
"You weren't dressed for a long walk. Or a short one." Trey, bless him, didn't pound the point home. "You learned a lesson. Yes?"
"Several."
"Good." Without warning, Trey closed his eyes as a shudder rippled through his body. "If I'd been a half hour later. Or if Carmichael took a different path."
Instinct took over as Olivia's need to comfort superseded her bothersome shyness. Scooting across the sofa, she placed her hand over Trey's and squeezed. She expected him to smile or shake off her concern. Imagine her surprise when he pulled her into his arms.
"You're so wonderfully alive. To think of you dead…" Olivia felt his body shake.
"You saved me. You and Carmichael." Hugging him tightly, Olivia rubbed Trey's back. "My heroes."
"I don't want your gratitude."
"Then tell me what you want." Anything, she wanted to shout.
"Doesn't matter." Trey started to pull away. "I shouldn't—"
"Yes, you should." Olivia slid her hand around his neck. Her eyes sought his and willed him to really look—to see how she felt. "I want the same thing."
"Not tonight, Olivia. You need to rest and recover."
Trey was a good man. But in the depths of his dark gaze, she saw a spark of the devil—just enough to give her hope.
"I'm a fast healer."
With a laughing groan, Trey dropped his forehead onto hers.
"What am I going to do with you?"
"Want a few suggestions?"
"No." Trey rolled to his feet, tugging her with him.
"Aren't you curious?" Olivia reluctantly allowed him to push her up the stairs. When he didn't follow, she stopped. "I have a very vivid, very detailed imagination."
His expression stern, Trey pointed toward the second floor. "Go."
Olivia felt her balloon of hope slowly deflate. But his next words sent her flying.
"About your imaginative suggestions?"
"Yes?"
"I'd like to hear every single one." Trey held up a hand. "Tomorrow."
Breathless, Olivia nodded.
"One more thing." He handed her a notepad and pen. "Jot down your aunt's contact information. I'll use my CB radio to contact someone in town. As soon as possible, they'll let your family know you're safe and sound."
Doing as Tre
y asked, Olivia felt a twinge of guilt. By now, her aunt would be worried.
"Do you think I'll be with them by Christmas?"
"Hard to say." Trey tore the note from the pad. "Even after the storm passes, could be days before the roads are safe to travel. My place is low on the county's snowplow priority list."
"Okay."
Olivia tried to sound disappointed but mentally, she was in the middle of a happy dance to end all happy dances. She practically floated up the stairs and to her room. The heck with dreams of sugar plums. Her holiday wish had already come true. Christmas with Trey.
CHAPTER FIVE
~~~~
TREY WAITED ON the back porch while the full-grown Carmichael romped with a puppy's abandon, pausing every ten feet or so to lift his leg. Snow, thicker than before, fell from the sky, proof the storm wasn't likely to let up anytime soon.
Keeping one protective eye on the dog, Trey's mind was firmly on Olivia.
Funny. He spent so much time alone—by choice. Yet, after a few short hours, she'd become important. Without prompting, she made him want to share parts of his past he preferred to keep private.
Even by himself, he rarely thought of his childhood. What was the point? Until recently, he was happy, content. True, a certain restlessness lurked around the fringes. But something about Olivia, her sweet smile, the adorable way she blushed, and the inner strength she only recently began to tap, turned his thoughts toward the past. Toward the boy he used to be, the man he'd become, and where he wanted to go from here.
Trey Stanton. He wasn't born with the name. According to his birth certificate, he was Ingo Milton Hunter III. From the powerful to the infamous, the name had a long, sullied history.
Questions would always remain about how the original Ingo Hunter made his fortune. Savvy businessmen who made shady business deals rarely recorded their transactions for posterity. Over time, the Hunter family fortune flourished as Ingo the first skirted the edges of the law.
Then came Ingo Hunter II. Born with his father's lack of morals, Ingo the second's ego too often got in the way of common sense. He believed he was infallible, invincible, indestructible. He was wrong.
Lost in the past, Trey instinctively shoved his icy hands into the warmth of his pockets as his mind continued to drift down memory lane.
Every man wanted an heir. Unfortunately, not every man was suited to be a parent. Trey's father, the infamous Ingo Hunter II, wasn't a nurturer. He had neither the temperament nor humanity. However, if he'd kept his DNA to himself, Trey wouldn't be here.
"I hated him."
Trey said the words without heat or feeling. The anger burned out so long ago he couldn't remember exactly when the thought of his father failed to ignite a burning pain in his gut. The only emotion left was satisfaction.
Ingo Hunter II sat in a prison cell, broke, broken, and utterly alone. And Trey helped put him there.
Eyes closed, Trey let out a heavy sigh. If he could go back, he'd do things differently. Not because he regretted his part in his father's downfall. But, if he'd ended the game sooner, Ingo and his greed wouldn't have invaded the lives of so many people. People Trey had come to care about.
With a concerned whine, Carmichael butted his head against Trey's leg.
"I'm fine," he reassured the dog. "Ready to go inside?"
Taking a clean towel, Trey dried Carmichael's thick coat of fur before he settled the dog for the night in his usual spot in the mudroom just off the kitchen. A filled water dish and the knowledge his favorite human was only a bark away gave him the comfort he needed for a long, restful sleep.
After Trey banked the fire, he took a slow, thoughtful stroll through the house. His lips curved into a smile when he remembered Olivia's reaction to his home. Admiration and awe shone in her expressive eyes when asked how much a forest ranger made. And then, she blushed.
The question was fair, the answer simple. His job didn't pay very much. The reason he could afford the renovations was complicated. Trey was a rich man. Very rich. His money didn't come from his father. Any trust fund he might have inherited went the way of all Ingo's money—down a long, bumpy rabbit hole of bad choices both personal and professional.
No, Trey's wealth was a result of a keen mind for money and investments. But unlike his grandfather, he didn't make his fortune on the misfortune of others.
Pausing outside Olivia's room, Trey wondered what she would think. If he explained, would she understand why he felt compelled to ruin Ingo? Would she condemn his methods? Would she question why he toyed with Hunter for years—played cat to his father's mouse? Or, when she heard the entire story, would she understand?
Trey moved down the hall. Undressing, he crawled into bed and tried to settle his mind, but the questions kept him awake. What would Olivia think? More important? Why did he care so damn much?
CHAPTER SIX
~~~~
GROGGY, TREY STOPPED at the bottom of the stairs to stretch his arms over his head. A long, hot shower helped chase some of the cobwebs from his brain. Now, he needed coffee—the stronger the better.
First, Carmichael needed to go out. By the time Trey and the dog returned to the house, the first pot would be brewed.
Plan in hand, Trey started toward the mudroom—and stopped dead in his tracks when he found Carmichael, tongue lolling to one side, blocking the door.
"Unless sometime in the night you magically developed opposable thumbs, I have the feeling our guest is up and about. Did Olivia let you out?"
Carmichael woofed. Translation? Trey was right the first time.
"Thought she'd want to sleep in after yesterday's misadventure." Obviously, Trey was wrong. His gaze moved to the hearth. "Looks like she stoked the fire, too."
Surprised—pleasantly—Trey's eyes closed in pleasure when the scent of cinnamon and coffee filled his senses. Obviously, Olivia made herself at home. Just fine with the knowledge, he skirted around Carmichael and entered the kitchen.
"Morning." A happy smile wreathed Olivia's face. "Would you like some coffee?"
"More than my next breath."
Laughing, she poured him a cup.
"Cream? Sugar?"
"Black." Trey sipped the strong, dark liquid and let out a sigh of pure pleasure. "You have the touch."
"I took a few scoops from the can and added water," Olivia said, shrugging off his praise. "Hardly rocket science."
"I guess you should know, Ms. Physicist."
"That's Dr. Physicist," she chuckled. "Hope you don't mind that I took over your kitchen. I woke up with a ton of energy and felt in the mood to bake."
The counter was filled with cookie-shaped men—gingerbread if his nose wasn't mistaken. Donning an oven mitt, Olivia removed a pan of streusel-topped muffins.
"Hope you like blueberry. Between your pantry and freezer, the choices were mindboggling."
"Blueberry is great." Trey's favorite. "Olivia?"
"Hmm?"
"Stop a second. Please?"
"Sure." With a questioning look, Olivia wiped her hands on a towel. "Is something wrong?"
"You tell me." Trey tipped her chin and looked into her eyes. Clear as a bell. A bright, silvery, bluebell. "Any side effects from your fall? Headache? Blurred vision?"
"You're very sweet."
"Am I?"
Olivia nodded. The woman was such a contradiction, Trey thought as he gave her cheek a brief caress. One second a confident siren, the next a blush would bloom on her cheeks. Yet, as though determined to fight through the wave of shyness, her gaze remained locked with his, sure and steady.
"You didn't answer my questions." Trey touched her forehead relieved when she seemed fever-free. "How did you sleep?"
"Like the proverbial top. Sit." Olivia set the muffins on the counter. "I've never slept on such soft sheets What's the thread count?"
"No idea," Trey shrugged.
"Do you know the brand?"
"Andi B
enedict."
Olivia's mouth fell open.
"The Andi Benedict?" she asked. "As in the world-famous fashion designer?"
"Mmm." Trey hid his amusement around a bite of blueberry goodness. "Damn fine muffin."
"Thanks." Frowning, Olivia refilled Trey's cup.
"Something wrong?"
"Designer sheets," she muttered. "No wonder they felt like a cloud."
All at once, Trey realized the problem. Olivia assumed the linens were out of her price range. And, she was probably right, though he couldn't say exactly what they cost because they were a gift—straight from Andi Benedict herself. One of the many bonuses he reaped since the Benedict sisters welcomed him into their family with open arms.
Generous as she was beautiful, Andi would send Olivia the entire line of products—all Trey had to do was ask. Better still, he'd happily pay whatever the cost. Trouble was, he didn't think Olivia would accept such an expensive gift. Certain he could find a solution, he filed the problem away for now.
"While I was looking around, I noticed a bunch of Christmas decorations."
"If you looked around, you probably noticed a lot of things," Trey chuckled. "I like to be prepared."
"Christmas is only a few days away. Why isn't anything out? Not even a wreath on the front door."
Trey kept the tinsel and what-not for the same reason he owned a box of cupids and hearts and one with red, white, and blue bunting. At one time or another, the decorations seemed like a good idea. Then, when a holiday rolled around, he didn't see the point since he was the only one around to appreciate the effort.
"I wouldn't mind helping."
Olivia tried to keep the excitement from her voice but failed—miserably. Even the meanest Scrooge would have a hard time resisting the eager twinkle in her blue eyes.
"When should we start?"
"Now."
Laughing, Trey followed as Olivia led him to the storeroom. Looking at the pile of boxes, he shook his head, amazed by the number and variety.
"When the heck did I buy all these things?"
"You really don't remember?" Olivia asked as she filled his arms.
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