“Only if you promise not to film this,” I mutter.
She slides gracefully in beside me, rescuing the bacon like it’s part of her morning mission. I watch her move — quick, confident — and it hits me all over again how natural she feels in my space.
“You’re good at this,” I say. “Saving things.”
She looks at me sideways. “You’ve got to learn to multitask, mountain man.”
“I’m working on it,” I say, voice low.
She glances up, and the look in her eyes says she knows exactly what I mean. We move together in that small space, shoulder to shoulder, laughter breaking the tension until we’re both smiling like fools.
When the bacon crisis is over, we sit at the bar with steaming mugs and mismatched plates. Ranger sprawls at our feet, just in case we drop a few crumbs. Ruby breaks a piece of bacon for him and then turns to me.
“So,” she says softly. “You going to tell me what that was all about?”
“What what was?”
“The thing behind that kiss. You looked at me like I’d short-circuited something important.”
I stare into my coffee for a long moment. “You did.”
Her voice gentles. “Then tell me.”
I take a breath and run a hand over my beard. “I don’t talk about this stuff.”
“Then don’t talk,” she says. “Just … tell me what keeps you wanting to be all alone.”
She has this way of asking — gentle, unafraid. It’s like she knows I’ll tell her anyway.
I set the mug down. “There was someone. A long time ago.”
Ruby nods, silent encouragement.
“She was pregnant,” I say, and the words still feel foreign. “We were gonna get married. She lost the baby at four months. It broke her. I tried to hold her together — doctors, therapy, whatever she needed. But somewhere along the way, she started running from me instead of toward me. Nights away. Stories that didn’t line up.” I pause, jaw tight. “Eventually, I stopped needing proof.”
Ruby’s hand covers mine. She doesn’t fill the silence with pity, just waits.
“I walked away,” I say finally. “Haven’t let anyone close since. Figured I was better off fixing things that couldn’t break my heart.”
Her thumb brushes over my knuckles. “Beckett…”
I look up. She’s not crying. She’s just there — real, alive, bright as firelight.
“I’m not her,” she says quietly. “And every situation is different.”
“I know,” I say, voice low. “You make me think about … things I thought I’d buried. Good things. Stupid things. Fun. Romance.” I huff a laugh. “Things I thought didn’t belong to me.”
Ruby tilts her head, eyes soft but fierce. “Maybe they were just waiting for you to come down from the mountain on your snowmobile and claim them.”
For the first time in years, I let myself laugh. Really laugh. Ranger thumps his tail against the floor like applause.
I glance back at Ruby, and something in her gaze tells me this isn’t just a snowstorm fling anymore. It’s a beginning I didn’t plan for … and one I might actually be brave enough to keep.
Chapter 11
Ruby
The dishes are stacked in the sink, the smell of bacon still drifting through the cabin. My heart’s finally slowed to something resembling normal, but it doesn’t last.
