Page 53

“You’re tall,” Riley pointed out. “You could put the head on. We can’t reach.”

“It looks like Wes doesn’t have any gloves,” Hannah said. “His hands will freeze off.”

“Here, you can use mine,” Carter said immediately, tugging off his small gloves and holding them out.

“Silly,” Riley said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Your gloves won’t fit him. He’s got big man hands.”

Hannah’s gaze flicked to his hands, then away, a quick spark of something undefinable in her eyes. The memory of all the ways he’d once touched her—gentle, reverent, hungry—rose up between them like a shared secret, and heat chased itself down his spine despite the cold.

This was a terrible idea.

He still cared about her, more than he had any right to. The thought of all those hours in a truck with her made his heart pound for all the wrong reasons.

“I have gloves,” he heard himself say. Before his brain could catch up, the rest followed. “I’ll grab them. Do you mind if Kodi helps too?”

“No!” Carter practically bounced. “I love Kodi.”

Wes opened the back door of the crew cab and coaxed the dog out. Kodiak jumped down carefully, landed a little awkwardly on his bad leg, then shook himself and trotted toward the yard. He sniffed the snowman-in-progress, then headed for the nearest tree and lifted his leg.

Both kids erupted into giggles.

“He’s writing his name,” Riley announced.

“That’s one way to put it,” Hannah said dryly.

Wes grabbed his gloves from the console and joined them, helping pack snow. With his height, it was easy enough to hoist the head into place while Carter and Riley hopped around, cheering.

“We need a scarf and a carrot,” Riley said, critically inspecting their creation.

“I’ve got an extra scarf in the front closet,” Hannah said. “One of you can grab that, and the other can get a carrot from the vegetable drawer. I think I have a couple of dark rocks we can use for eyes. I’m afraid I don’t have any coal.”

“I’ll get the scarf!” Carter yelled, racing for the door.

“I’ll get the carrot,” Riley said, right on his heels. Kodiak trotted after them, clearly intrigued by the promise of indoor smells.

And suddenly, Wes and Hannah were alone in the snowy yard.

“How’s he doing?” she asked, nodding toward the dog, who was now trying to decide if he wanted to go inside with the kids or stay out with the grown-ups.

“Better, actually,” Wes said. “Thanks for the playlist. I’ve been playing it for him at different times during the day. I think he’s been a little happier. Or at least more engaged.”

“Oh, good.” Her smile was small but genuine, and for a moment they just stood there in the snow like normal people who talked about dogs and music and not about years of regret.

She looked up at him expectantly, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes bright. She was so close he could see a tiny snowflake caught in the edge of her hat. The urge to lean down and kiss her—just one taste, after all these years—overwhelmed him.

He made himself plant his boots more firmly in the snow.

“I ran into Holly at the gas station just now.”

“Did you?” Hannah arched an eyebrow. “And she didn’t spray gas all over your truck? You are not her favorite person in the world.”

He huffed out a faint laugh. “I would have deserved it. But no. We actually managed to have a civil conversation. She told me a little about her husband. And she mentioned you’re planning to take the kids down to Salt Lake tomorrow.”

Hannah frowned. “Why did she think you would care about that?”

“Because I also happened to mention I was heading to Salt Lake in the morning,” he said. “I’m picking up a gas fireplace to replace my grandfather’s drafty old woodstove. I’ve got a guy who can install it this week but only if I pick it up myself.”

He paused. “Holly suggested we carpool.”