to do was break down in front of a stranger.
There wasn’t a day went by that Hope didn’t see Julie’s smiling face in her mind and feel the hole that her death had left behind. Julie had been the most beautiful girl Hope had ever known—beautiful inside and out. It had been six months since her funeral, but Hope couldn’t get the image of Julie’s ravaged body out of her head. It had all been so unfair, especially since Julie had been the one person Hope had let herself get close to in all these years. Julie had understood about Hope’s family, about her dysfunction and frustration and the futility of hoping that someday it would all work out.
And then Julie, like everyone else in Hope’s life, had abandoned her. Not by choice. Hope knew that. But when she was alone in the apartment they’d shared, when there was no one to text during a slow workday, or catch a drink with on an outdoor patio, it felt like the same thing.
Hope fought for control and shut the feelings down before they overwhelmed her completely. She had to keep focus.
“I’m Hope,” she announced, trying desperately to sound normal. It shouldn’t matter that he’d been injured and left disfigured. Except that it really did. It smashed into the concrete wall she’d put around her feelings with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, reminding her of everything she’d rather forget.
“Blake,” he replied, but the coolness remained in his tone. “And I’m guessing you’re pretty cold right about now. Let’s get you up to the house.”
As they walked back to the house she was constantly aware of his hand by her elbow, waiting to catch her if she slipped again. It was courteous, considering their shaky start, but unsettling, too. He opened the door—unlocked, making her feel foolish once again—and held it for her to enter before grabbing her suitcase as if it weighed nothing at all and bringing it inside.
She almost wept in relief at the blast of heat that greeted her, and forgot about all her reservations at staying in a private home. She could think about that later. Right now she would focus on warming up and that was all that mattered.
He started up the stairs with her case. “I’ve got your room ready. I put you on the west side of the house. I thought you’d like that. It’s got a view of the mountains, and the early-morning sun won’t bother you. Not that it rises that early this time of year.”
He was being terribly polite, and Hope was beginning to feel doubly guilty about her obvious reaction to his face, half wanting to explain and half wanting just to forget all about it and start over.
“Thanks,” she said, injecting as much warmth as she could into the word. “I’m pretty jet-lagged. I’m lucky I know which end is up.”
He stopped in front of a door and opened it, but his closed expression told her he hadn’t exactly thawed toward her yet. “You can always nap for a while if you want,” he offered. “I’ve got chores to finish up in the barn.”
He was getting away from her as fast as he could, she realized, her heart sinking. So much for starting over.
She considered taking a nap, but she knew it would probably be better if she stayed up awhile longer and tried to go to bed later, so she didn’t end up being as nocturnal as a koala.
“I think I’ll wait a while, try to adjust.”
She stepped into the bedroom and momentarily reconsidered. The rustic cabin-style decor in what she’d seen of the house was repeated in this room, with knotty pine paneling climbing the steeply pitched walls. Along the center of the outside wall, lined up with the peak of the pitch, was a heavy wooden bed that looked like it had been hewn from logs. It was covered in a gorgeous raspberry-and-cream quilt with several fluffy pillows on the top.
While definitely not her personal decorating taste, Hope found the room surprisingly cozy and welcoming. She could hardly wait to sink into the softness of the mattress, snuggle beneath that quilt with her head cushioned on the pillows. A stone gas fireplace was tucked in one corner. Hope almost swooned with pleasure. All it would take was a flick of a switch and she’d have toasty flames to heat up the room.
Blake put down her suitcase as she went to the window and looked out. For miles the white foothills rolled, leading to the gray hulking shapes of the Rockies—so large that they appeared closer than she suspected they actually were. In all her travels around the world as a photographer she’d never been here, and she suspected that on a clear, crisp day the white-capped peaks were stunning.
She turned and chafed her hands together. “Thanks. Mr. Nelson...”
“Just Blake,” he corrected, straightening. “I’m not so much into formality around here.”
“Blake,” she continued, unsure how she felt about him calling her Hope instead of Ms. McKinnon for the duration of her visit. The last thing she needed was anyone getting overly personal. She preferred to keep her distance, after all. “Doesn’t this feel weird to you? A stranger in your home?”
He looked taken aback by her question. “You city people,” he said. “It’s not like that around here. Consider it Western hospitality.”
The words should have been friendly, but to Hope they still held the stiff veneer of politeness. Great. So he was as awkward about her being here as she was. She should have stood her ground and told Gram no. But she’d never been able to say no to Gram...
Hope considered telling him she hadn’t always been a city girl. She’d spent lots of time climbing trees and swimming and picking wildflowers. Getting grass stains and skinned knees from falling off her bike, and in a town where you could knock on anyone’s door for a quick glass of water or a Band-Aid to heal a scrape. The memories caused a pang inside. They hadn’t been ideal yesterdays but they weren’t all bad, especially all the times spent in Beckett’s Run with Gram. That town was about as far from a big city as you could get.
She looked up at him, smiled politely, and kept her mouth shut.
He shrugged. “After what Mary said on the phone, there’s no trouble with you staying here. Really.”
Hope’s brow furrowed. What did Blake mean? The only reason she was here was to take pictures, right? She replayed her conversation with Gram in her head. Pictures and...
Something uncomfortable wound its way through Hope’s chest. Pictures and down time, Gram had said. Time spent not working. In a house with a single man...
Gram wouldn’t be matchmaking, would she?
Hope banished the thought. Gram didn’t even know Blake. The very idea was ridiculous. Boy, Hope really did need some sleep, didn’t she?
She looked into Blake’s face and thought she saw his eyes soften with what looked like compassion. Compassion for her? Ridiculous. “I don’t know what she told you. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
At her sharp tone the soft look in his eyes disappeared and she wondered if she’d imagined it. He tilted his head the slightest bit, his keen gaze feeling a bit like an assessment as he paused.
He shook his head. “You look dead on your feet. We can talk about things later, after you’ve had a chance to rest and have something to eat. I’ve got to get back out to the barn, but I’ll put on some coffee in the kitchen before I go.”
He looked down at her legs and back up again, his expression knowing. His examination made her feel
