by Donna Alward
“She’s wrong. She hasn’t even seen me in over two years,” Hope replied coolly, folding her hands. “Sorry. Nothing to fix here.”
He shrugged, knowing better than to push right now. “It’s okay. I’m just happy to have the pictures for our promo materials. And you never know. Sometimes a few days of R & R can do miraculous things. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that. I’m just a rancher, Hope. I don’t have any interest in prying into your personal life.”
Indeed not. He’d been dreading her arrival for days. He might be good at his job but he was hopeless at playing host. Social situations were so not his thing, and as a rule he avoided them as much as possible.
His words did nothing to ameliorate the situation. If anything they seemed to make it worse. She straightened her shoulders.
“Since that’s the case, perhaps it would be best if tomorrow I find another place to stay nearby.”
There was an imperious arrogance to her voice that grated on a particular nerve of Blake’s. There was being private, and then there was just being uppity, as his father would say. And Hope McKinnon was being uppity. He wondered what it was that put her on the defensive so completely. Clearly she wasn’t any happier about being here than he was.
“Suit yourself,” he replied smoothly, refusing to take the bait. He had enough to worry about without babysitting a woman who didn’t want to be here. At this point as long as he got his pictures he was a happy boy.
He took the platter to the table and put it down in the center. He was very good at being patient. Maybe he was annoyed, but she could issue all sorts of decrees and pronouncements and she wasn’t going to fizz him a bit. He’d had tons of practice at hiding his true feelings. Years of it.
Besides, he had more important things to worry about. Like Christmas. And making sure the program kids had some extra good memories to carry them through the holidays. And a sleigh to paint. All of which would keep him out of her way.
Hope sat down at the table and opened a paper napkin, spreading it over her lap like a visiting princess.
As Blake grabbed the carving knife, he set his jaw.
Nothing was going to get in his way. Especially her.
* * *
Hope stretched beneath the covers, luxuriating in the soft blankets. The light coming through the window was strange...dim, but somehow bright at the same time. She rubbed the grit from her eyes and checked her watch. Seven-thirty in the morning. She’d slept for ten hours. Considering the time difference, that was very close to a miracle. She had worked after dinner until she could barely keep her eyes open. That had been the plan. Work. Fall asleep. No time to think.
No time to feel.
She could be very productive this way.
The floor was cold beneath her feet as she tiptoed to the window. Ah, the reason for the odd light was fresh snow. Mounds of it piled up around the barn and fenceposts. Great dollops of it balanced on the branches of the spruce trees in the yard. It looked like a winter fairyland and it kept falling—big, fluffy flakes of it. She felt as if she were looking out on an interactive Christmas card. The kind that landed in her in-box this time of year, with snowmen and Christmas trees to click on.
For a moment it reminded her of home—of Gram’s place in Beckett’s Run. She imagined Gram would be baking Christmas cookies and getting out the decorations by now. Something that felt like homesickness swept through her as she stared at the snow, so familiar and yet so foreign.
In New England they’d always hoped for a white Christmas. She and her sisters had put on hats and mittens and boots and made snowmen and had snowball fights. Grace had accused Hope of being too bossy about where to put Frosty’s nose and Faith could no longer play peacemaker.
Hope smiled to herself. Poor Faith. Hope and Grace hadn’t made things easy on their middle sister. Things were slightly better with their relationship now, in so far as Faith wasn’t not speaking to Hope. Grace was still put out with Hope for not agreeing to go on an assignment with her. In Hope’s defense, the opportunity to do a shoot for Style-Setter magazine was too good to pass up, but Grace hadn’t understood.
Now Faith was in a similar predicament to Hope—Gram had asked a favor of her, too, and she was doing some special stained glass project for an English earl.
Sometimes it seemed like the three of them were on different planets.
A movement to the right caught her attention. It was Blake, bundled in a heavy coat with a black knitted cap on his head and huge gloves on his hands, shoveling the walkway that ran from house to barnyard. Snow flew off his shovel in great puffs as Hope took the time to study him more carefully.
He’d annoyed her with his assessment last night, making her react when she’d truly wanted to be pleasant after getting off on the wrong foot. And in his words he was no therapist. Just a rancher.
Looking at his scar, though, she knew he wasn’t any ordinary rancher. This was personal for him, wasn’t it? Someone didn’t run a place like this without a history. She’d bet it was all wrapped up in how he’d got that scar.
And just like that she knew it would be best if she did move lodgings. What good would come of any sort of curiosity? She didn’t want to get caught up in anyone else’s drama. She’d had enough of her own to last a lifetime. She had a good life now and she’d fought hard for it, worked hard. Gram was wrong. She didn’t need fixing at all. What she needed was to keep busy.
She wished she could snap her fingers and it would be Christmas already. She’d spend it with Gram and then head back to Sydney, where she belonged. She’d rather just forgo all this nonsense altogether.
Hope showered and dried her hair, then got dressed, did her makeup carefully and straightened her unruly curls with a flatiron until they lay soft and smooth to her shoulders. When she finally went downstairs Blake was inside, curling his hands around a coffee cup while steam rose in wisps in the air.
“Good morning.”
He turned and smiled as if the tension of last night had never existed. It appeared they were both making an effort.
“Morning.”
“Is there more of that?”
He moved his head, gesturing to the coffeemaker. “Help yourself. How’d you sleep?”
She reached for a cup. “Better than I expected. Maybe it’s the mountain air. Or going without sleep for nearly forty-eight hours. I slept right through.”
“It was still dark after sunrise, thanks to the storm. We really got dumped on overnight. I figured we would.”
She poured the coffee and took the first sip—ah. The restorative, caffeine-injected brew suddenly seemed to make everything a little more right in the world.
“How much came down?”
“Maybe a foot and a half, and it’s still falling.”
Her bubble of happiness popped and the coffee didn’t taste quite so good. “A foot and a half? Like, eighteen inches?”
“Yeah. Afraid the roads are closed from here to the highway unless you’ve got a four-by-four. And of course there’s always the problem of trying to realize where the road ends and the fields begin. Try it and you’re in a ditch and calling a neighbor to haul you out. No one’s going anywhere today.”
And there it was. Her brilliant plan to be friendly but insist on going to nearby Banff to find a hotel room blown out of the water. “For how long?” she asked.
“Oh, rest of today for sure. If it lets up things’ll be clear by tomorrow sometime. Added to what we already had, there’s no doubt it’ll be a white Christmas this year.”
He grinned with satisfaction—only the second time she’d seen him smile. It seemed the gruff rancher had a soft spot for the holidays. Good for him.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. She could manage one more night. She could make some calls today and book a room. She let out a breath.
“You should have some breakfast. I ate early, but Anna’s here. She’ll fix you up. Anna?”
“You called?”
&nb
sp; A raspy voice came from the hall and a woman appeared just after it. She was small—barely over five feet—with eyes black as night and golden-brown skin. “Hope, meet Anna Bearspaw.”
The woman smiled, making the skin around her eyes wrinkle, and now Hope understood why her question about whether Anna was his wife or girlfriend had made him laugh. The woman was easily fifty, her graying black hair pulled back in a sleek low ponytail.
“Hope.” She grinned. “Blake says you liked my elk last night.”
“Elk?” she struggled to keep the pleasant smile pasted on her face. She’d assumed the flavorful meat was beef. Didn’t Alberta boast about its beef?
“The roast,” Blake offered. “No one does it up like Anna.”
Hope had to swallow the saliva that pooled in her mouth at the thought of eating what had to be hunted game. She rarely ate red meat, but had made an exception rather than rock the hospitality boat. She was used to meat coming in neatly wrapped packages at the market. Her stomach turned as she imagined the process of getting a wild animal to the table.
“It was...uh...delicious,” she offered weakly.
“My boy John’s the hunter. We kept some for ourselves and gave the rest to Blake in trade.”
“Trade?”
“It’s nothing,” Blake said, putting his cup in the sink.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Anna parroted. She looked at Hope. “Blake has given me a job, and now that it’s just me and John at home he looks after us, whatever we need. He’s a good man.”
It made no sense to Hope why she’d be curious to know more about Anna, but she found herself asking, “Looks after you?”
The woman beamed. “He’s a good neighbor.”
“We all look after each other out here, that’s all,” Blake replied.
That was just the sort of thing Hope tried to avoid. She didn’t like having to rely on other people. She’d rather rely on her own two hands and abilities. She liked being independent. She liked her job and her circle of friends in Sydney. She had life just the way she wanted it, didn’t she? And it was a good life. Relying on help meant people thought they had the right to pry into personal matters. She much preferred privacy.
It hadn’t always been that way, though. Not when she’d been a child. Once upon a time the three sisters had stuck together. After their parents had finally split for good they’d had to—they’d only had each other. And Gram.
It had been Gram who had told her to stop trying so hard to hold them all together. And Gram who had witnessed her complete breakdown at eighteen, when stress had meant she’d blown her exams and lost her scholarship. It had been Gram who had picked her up and helped her get back on her feet again. No one but the two of them knew how much it had cost Gram. And Hope had paid back every cent. She’d made sure of that.
She was still working on paying back the personal cost to her grandmother—which was why she’d agreed to this stupid scheme in the first place.
She pushed the painful memories aside and tried to smile for Anna. “If the roads are closed, how did you get here this morning?” She was almost afraid to know the answer. Wondered if she’d look outside and see a dogsled. This all seemed so surreal it didn’t feel out of the realm of possibility.
“My snowmobile.”
“Of course,” she said faintly, quite sure now that she’d ended up in a parallel universe.
“We won’t have any clients today. But the snow’s supposed to stop, and I’ve got to scout out a Christmas tree. You can come if you want—see more of the ranch. You could probably use the fresh air after being cooped up in a plane for the better part of two days.”
Hope looked over at Blake. He was leaning, completely relaxed, against the kitchen counter. With Anna on one side and Blake’s long legs blocking the escape to the hall Hope felt utterly trapped.
“I thought I was supposed to be taking pictures,” she replied, scrambling for an excuse. There was no way she was going to straddle a snowmobile and wrap her arms around Blake.
“Bring your camera. I’ll take you up to the top of the ridge. The view from there is phenomenal. Mountains as far as you can see. They’ll be pretty now with the new snow.”
“I don’t do landscapes,” she explained desperately.
The two of them? Alone in the wilderness? Briefly it struck her how many shoots she’d been on with complete strangers. This was no big deal.
Only it was. Because this didn’t feel exactly businesslike. And it was impossible it could be anything else. They didn’t even like each other, did they?
“A picture’s a picture, right?
He was undeterred, and she was feeling more irritated the longer the conversation went on. Anna proceeded to unload the dishwasher as if they weren’t even there. A picture was only a picture if you were an amateur. She kept away from nature photographs because she preferred to have control. Her photos were carefully set up, lighting adjusted, models just so. If there were variables she wanted to control them.
But she wasn’t about to explain that to Blake any more than she’d try to tell him how to do his job. He’d probably find it supernaturally boring. Not many people understood her quest for perfection. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure she’d ever find it, but she still kept trying. It was a constant challenge and one she thrived on. Some days that challenge was what got her up in the morning. The possibility of perfection, out there waiting for her to make it happen. Something no one could ever take away from her.
“I don’t think I have the right clothing.” She tried for a final excuse, knowing this would surely get her out of it. She’d research some hotels instead and book a room, so she could be gone once the roads were cleared. And she’d explain her reasons so he understood. Gram was just trying to look after her, but she was doing just fine looking after herself. She didn’t need to impose on his “Western hospitality” for the whole ten days.
“I think we’ve got gear that’ll fit you,” he said. “Any more excuses?” He lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “You’re not afraid of a snowmobile, are you?”
She really couldn’t come up with anything else. She thought about having to climb on the back of the snowmobile, wrapping her arms around his middle. She swallowed. She’d die before explaining about the whole physical proximity thing. It wasn’t that she was shy. It was more...
She looked into his face. His eyes were focused on her in a way that made her heart flutter unexpectedly. This was the problem. In the small bit of time since her arrival there’d been an awareness she hadn’t either expected or wanted. The angry scar on his face added a sense of danger, and she tried to ignore it as best she could—and the dark feelings it evoked. But his size alone practically screamed masculinity and she wasn’t completely immune to that. It was the way he looked at her, the husky but firm tone of his voice that set her nerve endings on edge.
Blake Nelson, for all his broodiness and imperfections, was exciting. It was the last thing she’d expected and it totally threw her off guard.
And now he’d issued a challenge.
She could do this. Besides, after two days of stale recirculated air on the plane she could use the crisp bite of the wind in her face, right?
“I’m game. I guess,” she added. He didn’t need to know he’d tapped into her competitive streak.
“I’m going to finish up a few things in the barn, so I’ll be back in about an hour, okay? Anna knows where the winter gear is. She’ll help you.”
“Sure I will,” the woman answered from behind Hope.
Hope smiled weakly. Well, if nothing else the ride with Blake would give her the chance to talk to him about switching accommodation.
That was one argument she wouldn’t lose.
CHAPTER THREE
BLAKE handed over the helmet and watched as Hope put it on. He hid a smile, wondering if she was worried about messing her perfect hair. “Put down the visor when we start out. It’ll keep the wind and snow off your face,” he suggested, straddling the padded seat
of the snowmobile.
Anna had bundled Hope up in borrowed winter boots, ski pants and jacket, and a thick pair of gloves. She looked different. Approachable. He was enjoying seeing her out of her comfort zone. After last night, with her reading glasses on like armor and her laptop flashed up, he got the sense that her work was her shield.
“Hop on,” he called, starting the machine, letting it idle for a few minutes. She slid on behind him, her legs cushioning his. He swallowed and for the first time wondered about the wisdom of the idea of disappearing into the foothills with her.
Then she slid her arms around his ribs.
Even through the thick material of their jackets the contact rippled through him. He scowled and set his teeth, rejecting the surprising whip of arousal. What was the point of being attracted to her? A woman like Hope would never be interested in a man like him. They never were. He and Hope came from different places. He kept his life simple, without frills and fancies. And she was a city girl through and through. A modern woman, independent and successful—not that there was a thing wrong with that.
But nothing good would come of the two worlds colliding.
He hit the throttle. “Hold on!” he called, and gave it a shot of gas, taking them up and over a snowbank before heading over the snowy field to the crest beyond.
The zipper of her jacket seemed to dig into his back but he ignored it as they cruised over the undulating hills. The snow had stopped, only the odd errant flake drifting lazily down now to settle gently atop the pristine white blanket covering the meadow. In the summertime he wandered these hills on horseback to calm his mind. But in winter he used one of the snowmobiles that Anna kept at her place for her and John.
He reached the crest of the ridge and slowed, coming to a stop by an outcropping of rock that sat oddly out of place in the middle of the land. He cut the engine, dismounting. It was his favorite place on the ranch when all was said and done.
It was where he and Brad had come as boys. Identical twins, they’d done everything together. They’d made campfires and built a hooch in the shade of the rock, unrolling sleeping bags and spending the night with nature. They’d talked about hockey, talked about playing in the NHL someday, talked about the farm and, as they got a little older, girls.
