Page 27

Therein lies the problem.

With a heavy heart, I got dressed for the sledding activity, and headed toward the sounds coming from the sledding hill. When I got there, Jack and Ivy were half way down a run on a shared toboggan and Beck was in the middle of persuading Blake to put down her camera and get on a sled with him. Grant, sipping a hot cocoa, was at the top of the hill, chatting with Finley Moon. Knox and Madeleine were not there yet. Rhett and Holly arrived right after me, talking and laughing as if they were in a snow globe all their own, just like when we were kids. Although, in Stonehaven, it was a rainy globe.

No one had ever loved a girl the way Rhett Lawson had loved Holly Stone. It made me wonder—was this month their second chance at love? Was I ridiculous to hope so? If they had finally found their way back to each other, I couldn’t be happier. Even if it meant I was the only lonesome person in the world. I know, dramatic, but that’s how it felt.

My own love story seemed pretty much doomed on account of Grant Walker’s refusal to fall into my arms. There was something between us. I know I wasn’t imagining it. He had feelings for me. It had to be true or he wouldn’t be buying gifts for my adopted family, or falling asleep in my bed watching one of my favorite movies.

Grant waved at me as I approached, giving me a shy smile. He knew I was mad at him. However, I couldn’t quite let go of my hurt pride. So stupid. A grown woman shouldn’t act this way. Yet, here I was, yearning for a giant man on the top of a snowy mountain, even though he had embarrassed me with his generosity.

“You ready for this?” Grant asked, pulling our sled behind him.

“Yes, but don’t let me break anything,” I said.

He nodded, smiling. “I’ll do my best to protect you.” He tugged his cap further down his ears. “I mean, if you want me to. I don’t mean to overstep. Again.”

“It’s okay. No big deal. Let’s do this.”

“You’re not mad at me still?” Grant asked.

“I am, but not enough to miss out on a day of sledding,” I said lightly.

He grinned and held out his hand, which I took, because how could I not?

The hill behind the ranch was long and smooth. During our first run, I was way too aware of Grant’s arms and legs and chest pressing into my back to enjoy the ride as it was meant to be enjoyed. The second time, however, I forgot to be so conscious of the way the muscles in his legs flexed, and actually laughed all the way down the hill. Just be in the moment, I told myself. You’ll never have this again.

We went down that slope at least ten times, each run a little faster and looser, shouting and laughing. On the eleventh time, we veered to one side, catching the fastest portion of the hill, and the sled took off like a speeding train headed into trouble. We passed the crowd gathered at the bottom of the hill, unable to slow down even if we’d wanted to, and headed toward a dark line of trees at the edge of the field. We finally slowed when we reached deep, untouched snow at the tree line, coasting the last few feet before coming to a stop.

For a second neither of us moved. My heart beat fast against my ribs.

“Are we alive?” I asked, feeling light-headed.

Grant, fortunately still behind me, loosened his arms from around my waist. “I believe so.”

A snap to the left of us drew my attention. Out of the dark woods stepped two does into the blue light of the fading day. We both froze, watching. The first was bigger, her coat a soft brown. She moved a few steps and stopped, one forefoot lifted, ears twitching. The second was smaller and stayed half hidden by her sister’s flank, perhaps younger and more hesitant.

The big one saw us. She froze, lifting her head up, ears pricked forward, and fixed her enormous dark liquid eyes upon us.

I held my breath.

Grant and I remained in the sled, his legs still wrapped around me. We were maybe twenty feet away, close enough we could see their breath and the delicate sniffing of black noses as they read the cold air. The larger of the two does watched us and we watched her back, almost like we spoke the same language, one full of secrets and awe. Behind her, the smaller one dipped her head, nosed the snow, seemingly unbothered. Maybe she was the little sister of the pair of them, too innocent to be afraid or bothered by our presence. I knew what it was like to be the younger one, to put my trust in an older sibling and have the privilege of someone looking after me. I didn’t often think about Jack that way now that we were grown. He treated me with such respect and admiration for getting through medical school and opening the clinic. However, a long time ago, when we were scared and small, he’d made me a bologna quesadilla because I was hungry. Already, at just ten years old, Jack knew how to make something out of nothing to keep his baby sister’s stomach from rumbling.

This peek into the hidden mysteries of the forest made my throat ache from the beauty of it all. Remember this, I told myself. Bring it out when you need reminding about the wonders of the world.

A branch from a nearby tree, laden with snow, cracked and fell to the ground, startling the deer. As quickly as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaping on their graceful legs back into the forest.

I turned to Grant, looking into his eyes for a moment, then, without thinking, I placed my hand over his, where it had been lightly resting on my thigh. I leaned heavily against him, not wanting the moment to end.

“I’m glad it was you I was with today,” Grant said softly. “For that, I mean.”

I twisted to get a better look at his face and to my surprise saw that the giant cowboy beside me had tears in his eyes. “I can’t imagine anyone better than you to share it with.”

He removed his hand from mine to reach over to adjust my hat, which I now realized was sideways. “They reminded me of you. Graceful. Beautiful. Those dark, seeing eyes. So pure of heart.”

“Is that how you see me?” I asked.

“I’d have to be a blind man not to.”

We didn’t say anything else, just got out of the toboggan and started our way back up the hill. When we reached the top, somewhat breathless, he turned to me. “I’m sorry about the gift thing.”