city girl through and through. A modern woman, independent and successful—not that there was a thing wrong with that.
But nothing good would come of the two worlds colliding.
He hit the throttle. “Hold on!” he called, and gave it a shot of gas, taking them up and over a snowbank before heading over the snowy field to the crest beyond.
The zipper of her jacket seemed to dig into his back but he ignored it as they cruised over the undulating hills. The snow had stopped, only the odd errant flake drifting lazily down now to settle gently atop the pristine white blanket covering the meadow. In the summertime he wandered these hills on horseback to calm his mind. But in winter he used one of the snowmobiles that Anna kept at her place for her and John.
He reached the crest of the ridge and slowed, coming to a stop by an outcropping of rock that sat oddly out of place in the middle of the land. He cut the engine, dismounting. It was his favorite place on the ranch when all was said and done.
It was where he and Brad had come as boys. Identical twins, they’d done everything together. They’d made campfires and built a hooch in the shade of the rock, unrolling sleeping bags and spending the night with nature. They’d talked about hockey, talked about playing in the NHL someday, talked about the farm and, as they got a little older, girls.
Now Blake usually came alone. Sometimes to remember. Sometimes to look down at the awesome view—the way the land dipped and then extended straight out to the mountains—and to realize that he was just one small part of the big world out there. It helped him put things in perspective after a bad day.
He’d been surprised at himself for issuing the invitation to Hope. Perhaps it was that little glimpse of vulnerability that had prompted him to do it. And the knowledge that he felt the need for the wind on his face and it wouldn’t be very hospitable to take off and leave her stranded at the house alone.
Maybe he wasn’t entirely pleased with the houseguest arrangement, but he liked to think his parents had taught him decent manners.
“This is nice,” Hope said, climbing off the snowmobile and peeling the helmet off her head. Her hair was matted down beneath a thin toque and she pulled the hat straight. Pieces of blond hair stuck out like straw around her ears.
“Nice?” he repeated, somehow deflated by her bland reaction to the spectacular panorama before them. He breathed deeply, watched as his breath formed a frosty cloud that disappeared. “It’s kind of a miracle, don’t you think? That places like this exist?”
“I suppose,” she answered, taking a few steps through the snow toward him. “It certainly is a big view.”
He turned his head to study her. “The best adjectives you can come up with are ‘nice’ and ‘big’?”
She smiled then. “So my attempts to downplay it are a major fail?” She shrugged, then took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, you win. I admit it. It’s stunning up here.”
“That’s better.” He nodded and went to the biggest rock, used his arm to dust the snow off its surface. “Care to sit, Your Highness?”
He offered her his hand but she ignored his gesture, climbed up nimbly and perched on the rock, drawing up her knees and looking out over the landscape. “What is this place, anyway?”
“The outer edge of the ranch property. We used to own more, but I sold a chunk of it off years ago.”
“Why?”
He was a little startled at her question, especially as she’d shown very little interest in the ranch side of things since her arrival. “I didn’t need as much grazing land once I sold off the cattle. I just needed enough for the horses and feed.”
“You had cattle?”
“My family did, yes.”
“Why did you sell them off?” She was quiet for a moment but he knew she wanted to ask something more. Finally she looked over at him. “Was the ranch in trouble?”
He shook his head. “No. But when my dad decided to go into early retirement after a heart attack scare the ranch was left in my hands. It was up to me to make the decisions. This is what I chose.” He shrugged. “The therapy part and the funding I receive covers the operational expenses. The horses I board give me something to live on.”
And it hadn’t been easy either. Despite being in charge, he had wanted his parents’ support. His father had thought he was crazy when he’d broached the idea of selling off the majority of the ranch to fund a rehabilitation program. Once the assets of land and cattle were gone they were gone for good. But when he’d explained about how difficult it had been, growing up with not only the scarring but the lingering effects of the accident, about how he needed to do something worthwhile, they’d come around. Now his parents helped out during the spring and summer. In some ways this program was a living memorial to Brad.
“Where are your parents now?”
“Phoenix. They’re snowbirds. They have a condo down there and avoid the cold Canadian winters. They’ll be back for Christmas though, flying in Christmas Eve. Mom always says it doesn’t feel like Christmas without snow.”
Hope didn’t answer, and Blake studied her profile. She was tanned from living in Sydney, her blond hair streaked from the sun. She turned her head and looked at him and he realized the combination made her eyes stand out. Right now, in the cold crisp air, they were the precise color of a mountain bluebird.
“What about you? What are you doing for Christmas?”
She shrugged, but he thought he saw a shadow pass over the brightness of her eyes. “I’ll fly out of here to Boston, and then on to Beckett’s Run to spend the holidays with my grandmother. And I suppose any other members of my family who might show up.”
“You’re all spread out, then?”
She rubbed her hands together as if they were cold. “So what made you switch from cattle producer to equine therapy?”
She was changing the subject. Clearly her family was a sore spot with her. Was that the problem that her grandmother had mentioned? He reminded himself that it was none of his concern, but found he was curious anyway. Were they estranged?
But she’d turned the tables and asked a question and he knew she expected an answer. He pointed at his scar. “This.”
She looked away.
“I know it’s bad,” he said. “I see it every day.”
“It’s not that bad,” she said quietly, but she looped her arms around her knees, shutting him out. “I’ve seen worse.”
Those three words seemed to explain a lot and nothing all at once. “But it does make you uncomfortable?”
She looked at him. “I suppose that makes me a bad person?”
She was so defensive. He let out a breath. “Depends. Depends on why, right? Someone like you—you’re used to dealing with beautiful models all day long. You’re probably not used to—”
He broke off. He refused to refer to himself as ugly. He’d spent too long digging himself out of his hole of
