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No wonder he’d been insulted earlier. He clearly knew what the hell he was doing.
“Sorry about the grilling I gave you,” she contritely said.
“Actually, you’d be remiss if you didn’t grill me. Stranded out in the middle of nowhere. Not bein’ from around here. Granted, it’s safe enough, for the most part. We don’t get any homicidal tendencies even four months into a biting winter.”
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She laughed softly. “I’m sure the endless ‘flurries’ can seem wearing after a while, but so far I’m just astounded. This is really beautiful country. And I don’t mind the snow. Except when something with antlers comes galloping across the road and I have to swerve to avoid hitting him.”
“Galloping?”
She shot Sam a look. “What do deer do?”
“Sure it was a deer? Could have been an elk.”
With a nod, she said, “It was rather large.”
“Courteous of you to spare his life. And if it was an elk, you saved yourself fewer injuries than just your hand.”
“That was my thinking.”
He reached the top of the first slope, with several more rising behind them. They passed under a wide, rounded sign that artistically declared “Reed Ranch” and crested a mammoth clearing at the base of the rolling hills decorated with snow-covered trees.
Sam stopped the truck before an oversized garage and cut the engine. He worked a house key from its ring and handed it over. “To the back door. Careful on the deck. It’ll be slippery. Take the dog with you. The fires are going inside to take the chill off. I’ll unhook the cable and get your stuff from the SUV. Just … Be gentle with him.” He hitched his chin toward the still-burrowed puppy. “Someone made sport of him.”
Her eyes widened.
“Just … Soft voice. Light touch. That kind of thing.”
“Damn it,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
“He’ll be okay,” Sam said with unmistakable emphasis.
Scarlet wasn’t sure who Sam Reed was trying to convince more—her … or himself.
She said, “I’ll be extremely gentle.”
“Let me get the door for you.”
He slipped out on his side and went around to hers. Helped her out again.
Scarlet crossed to the enormous redwood wraparound deck, the ledge of the railing laden with a good six inches of new snow. She cautiously tromped through the powder and unlocked the wood-trimmed glass door. Inside, the warmth enveloped her and she inhaled the scent of the blazing fires and the hint of apple spice.
This portion of the house boasted an open kitchen with granite counters showcasing an artistically crafted bi-level island. There was an overhead rack that pots and pans dangled from. A double oven built into the wall. A brushed-nickel farmhouse sink, six-burner gas stove with a grill and a griddle, and a gorgeous glass-French-door Sub-Zero refrigerator.
There was also a long wooden table that sat twelve, with a simple runner and a long-and-low fresh-foliage centerpiece with candles. A large dark-brown leather sofa and matching recliners were arranged before the tall, wide hearth, which took up a good deal of wall space. A moderate flame cast flickering light throughout the oversized room.
Smooth river rock trimmed the walls and fireplace. Above, there were open rafters accented with polished wooden beams and a matching ceiling. Old-fashioned fans on lengthy pulleys overhead complemented the décor, along with pendent lighting.
Scarlet wiped her feet on the rug at the entryway and then crossed the gleaming hardwood floor to the island and deposited the key. Sam came in with a gust of wind and she shivered.
The pup stirred.
She glanced at Sam over her shoulder. “He’s probably ready for some water. If I take the blanket off, how bad is it going to be?”
Sam left the bags and a pastry box on the counter and reached for a tissue from the dispenser in the far corner. Returning to her, he handed it over.
“Fuck.” Scarlet’s heart plummeted at the implication she was about to be emotionally devastated. She swallowed hard. Slowly knelt before the water and food bowls already set out on a small mat and carefully extracted the puppy from her hair and placed him on the floor. She gingerly peeled back the blanket. And gasped.
