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Sarah winced at the memory of her brother’s victorious entry in the ugly sweater contest—so heinous, indeed, its ghost lingered on. The glitter he’d shed had infested half the town, his house, Mom and Dad’s, Uncle Vince’s bar. His twins, Beth and Ann, had tracked it down to the stables, and—
“And his girlfriend almost cut off her finger!” West’s eyes were round. “There was blood everywhere, and she—”
“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Tad collared West and hoisted him onto his knee. “It’s all new and exciting to him,” he said, with a sheepish grin. “He gets carried away.”
“He’d do great at the Games, then. They’re allaboutgetting carried away.” She tipped West a wink and he squirmed in Tad’s lap.
“Can we come? To the Games?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Tad. “But we’ll do our own thing, start some new traditions.”
“Aw…” West stuck out his lower lip. Sarah crouched down, smiling, the germ of an idea flowering in her head. If Tad came to opening night, got a taste of the fun…
“You could come to the snowball fight,” she said. “It’s the first night of the Games, and it’s always a blast. I know Beth and Ann would love to see West there.”
“Can we?Please,Dad?” West bounced, beseeching. “I love snowball fights.”
“I don’t know—are you sure?” Tad glanced at Sarah. His expression had gone guarded, wary almost. “We wouldn’t want to impose, if you’re already full up.”
“Full up?” Sarah laughed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve got ninety thousand acres. We could host the whole state and not get full up.”
“Well…” Tad frowned, shook his head. “I guess we could come, if you really don’t—”
West cut him off with an earsplitting whoop. Sarah laughed out loud. Tad made ad’ohface. He looked cute like that, cuter than a grown man had the right to be, with his nose all scrunched up, his messy brown locks hanging over his brow. He hadn’t shaved in a while and his chin was all scruffy, the start of a moustache perched on his lip. What would it feel like to rub her fingers over that scruff?
“Something on my face?” He wiped at his mouth and Sarah looked away.
“Sorry,” she said. She was so busted. “I wasn’t staring, just wondering, uh…how’s work coming along? Drummed up much business?”
Tad’s smile faded, and he let out a sigh. “I did like your brother said, put an ad up in Colt’s Hardware. It’s brought in a few jobs, but they’re all small-scale. I’ve got to be honest, I’m out of my depth. I’ve never had to get out there and find my own clients.”
Sarah frowned. “Weren’t you freelance?”
“Yeah, but all my contracts came through the same firm. I’d fix up one building and move on to the next. Being busy was good, but I was bouncing all over—Tahoe to New York to Butte to Detroit.” Tad pulled a wry face. “I thought I’d find stability settling down here. Build a home for myself instead of other people.”
“And instead you’ve found nothing to do?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Tad was watching West dig through his school bag. His gaze had gone distant, his smile soft and fond. “I’m making a start,” he said, “and if it works out, it’ll be worth it, knowing the friends he makes now can stillbehis friends year after year. Watching him put down roots I won’t have to tear up.”
Sarah’s eyes prickled. She hated goodbyes. She couldn’t imagine turning her back on the ranch. On a lifetime of memories, bitter and sweet.
“Knock-knock.” Will poked his head in, his nose red with cold. “The door was unlocked. Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all.” Tad stood up. “I’ll be out back if you need me, sanding those boards.”
The microwave pinged, and Sarah smiled—perfect timing. She needed Will in a good mood, and how better to achieve that than a gift of sweet treats?
“Want a cookie?” She reached for her oven mitts, but Will only frowned.
“You’re baking cookies in the microwave?”
Sarah wrinkled her nose. “It’s aconvectionmicrowave. Like a toaster oven, but better.” She pulled out her cookies and set them down on the counter, sweet-smelling steam rising from the tray. “They’re white chocolate peanut butter, for you and Suzanna.”
“For us? You didn’t have to.” Will grabbed one anyway, bounced it from hand to hand as it burned his palms. “Mm, hot and melty. I love ’em like this.” He took a bite and huffed—“Hot-hot-hot.”
“You’ll burn your tongue.”
“Worth it.” Will chewed and swallowed and took another bite. “Did you do something new with these? They’re your best yet.”
