looked him square in the face—not to the side, not over his shoulder—dead in his eyes.
“If it makes me uncomfortable it’s not for the reasons you think. I just... It just reminds me of someone, that’s all.”
“And remembering hurts?”
She looked back out over the fields, but he saw a muscle tick in her jaw. “Yeah. I guess it does. So I try not to. It’s easier that way.”
He could relate to that more than she’d ever know. Instead of answering he let the quiet of the winter day work its magic. He sat on the rock beside her—far enough away that they weren’t touching—and listened. To the wind shushing through the stand of spruce trees nearby. To the faint sound of the sparse flakes of snow touching the ground. No traffic. No nothing. Just space.
“How did it happen?” she finally asked.
He’d explained it many times, but each time his throat clogged up a little. The memory never dimmed. It was never less horrific, even after all this time.
“We were coming home from a hockey tournament in British Columbia. We had an accident.”
“You played hockey?”
He tried to smile. “Still do—a little pond hockey. You’ll see. Some of the neighborhood teenagers come over and have a go at it. I’ll have to clean the rink off tomorrow. It’s covered in snow now.”
“You’re a real kid person, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.” He aimed a level look at her. “Kids are great. Full of energy and curiousity.”
“Loud, destructive, unpredictable...”
She was smiling a little now. She looked awfully pretty when she smiled like that.
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable at her observation. He liked to keep his personal life personal. It was easier to talk about the ranch and his program than it was to talk about himself.
“Perhaps. But they’re also generally accepting.” At least the younger kids. Older ones could be cruel—his high school experience could attest to that—but the teens around here had known Blake long enough that his face was no big deal.
“The way most adults aren’t?” Her smile slipped. “I suppose it has something to do with loss of innocence. It makes us grown-ups a bit jaded after a while.”
Damn, but she had a knack of saying a lot without revealing much of anything. He kind of admired that. “I take it you’re not much of a kid person?”
“I don’t think I’ve actually thought about it much.”
“You’ve been too busy searching for the perfect picture?” Burying herself in work, if he could venture a guess. He got the feeling that Hope McKinnon was a pro at losing herself in her job. They had that in common, then.
Her lips twitched. “Something like that. It’s not something I’d want to do on my own, if ever. I’m only thirty. I haven’t really thought much about the whole marriage and kids thing.”
There was something about the way her gaze slid from his that made him think she was lying. “Building your career, I suppose?”
She brightened. “Of course. I love what I do, and with all the long hours and the travel it’s not really conducive to husbands or kids. Anyway, I still have time, right?”
Her smile was bright—possibly too bright.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “How much time do any of us really have?”
“You’re a great one for philosophical questions, Blake.”
“I have a tendency to overthink.”
She put a hand over her mouth in feigned surprise, then dropped it to her lap. “A fault? Surely not? I was starting to think you didn’t have any.”
“How could you possibly know in less than twenty-four hours?”
“Oh, I’m a quick study. Occupational hazard. And you’re an easy read.”
Something inside him started to warm as he realized with some surprise that they were bantering. Was she flirting? Hard—no, impossible—to believe. “Are you teasing me?”
“I am. You’re awfully serious.”
“That’s what I thought about you.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m focused. Big difference. I know I probably seemed serious yesterday, but really I do know how to have fun. I know how to relax. Who wants to walk around stressed all the time? I like my job, my apartment, my social life. No worries and all that.”
They were silent again for a few minutes, but then Blake had to ask the question that was burning in his mind. “If that’s true, then why does it seem you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders?”
And there it was. That flash of vulnerability. Just for a moment, but there all the same. Hope might put on a strong, capable show but underneath there was more. A lot more.
And Blake knew that unfortunately he had a soft spot for birds with broken wings. Seeing as he’d been one once upon a time. He should take her back to the house and keep it strictly business from here on out. But Hope McKinnon was intriguing. The face she showed the world wasn’t the real Hope, was it?
Hope hopped down from the rock. “I’m cold. I’m going to walk around a bit and take a few pictures.”
He let her go, holding back the observation that she’d said she didn’t do landscapes. He watched as she took her camera out from beneath her jacket and moved around, studying angles and light as she snapped. The camera was what had dug into his back on the drive out, he realized. He liked watching her in action. Her face took on a determined set as she focused. But he noticed too that she frowned a lot, a crease forming between her brows. That search for perfection again?
He looked around him at the splendor of the Rockies. It never failed to catch his breath and fill his soul. What could she find to fault in such a magnificent creation?
He hopped down, too, now that the cold of the rock was seeping through his lined pants, making his butt chilly. “What’s the matter?” he called, wading through the snow to where she stood, glaring at a particular peak.
“It’s not right. The lighting is wrong. With this cloud, that side of the mountain is going to be too shadowed.”
“Can’t exactly control that, right?”
“Exactly. This is why I don’t do landscapes and nature shots. There are too many variables. I like to be able to set it up, get the conditions right.”
“Yet in all that planning you still haven’t found the perfect shot?”
The look she threw in his direction was annoyed. “No. Not yet.”
“I think I know the problem,” he said, starting to smile. “You’re
