scent filled her lungs: cedar, smoke and something sweet. Licorice?
Practically nose to nose with him, she gazed into the stranger’s eyes, noticing how they crinkled at the corners. Nice. For some reason her gaze dropped to his mouth. Full lips tilted up at the edges, and the longer she stared, the broader the smile grew.
She cleared her throat. “Would you mind getting off of me?”
“Apologies, miss.” He chuckled.
She felt the rumbling of his laugh all the way through her winter parka. Jo did not share in his amusement. Embarrassment, on the other hand? Oh, yes. She felt that acutely.
The man eased off her and clambered to his feet. Once upright, he held his hand out for her again, making a show of bracing his legs this time. “Easy, now. I’d hate to crush you for a second time in less than five minutes of knowing you.”
She batted his hand away. “I’m fine.” Getting to her feet on her own was a necessity in circumstances such as this. She pushed herself up and dusted herself off, all the while eyeing the formidable canines who sat a few yards away, salivating and watching her with interest.
Like she was supper.
“You’re a guest, I take it?”
“Yes.” Never taking her eyes off the dogs, she edged toward the back of the Jeep.
“You’re early.”
“I am. I called ahead.” She hazarded a quick glance at the man. “Are you Dillon Cross?”
“Nope. I’m Thad. The hand.”
The hand? Was that a joke—at her expense—about the way he’d offered his hand to help her? She popped the back door of the Jeep and, after darting another glance at the pack of dogs, yanked her suitcase out. It toppled with a soft thud into the snow.
“Let me take that.”
Before she could refuse, Thad had already stooped down and grabbed the luggage. When she didn’t move because, quite frankly, the large, hairy beasts were blocking her path, he said, “Not a fan of dogs, I take it?”
“No.”
He whistled, a low note ending on a higher pitch. “Go on.” The dogs barked in response before the one in the middle ran off in the other direction, looking behind every few steps as if to make sure the other two followed.
“Thank you,” she said, going back to the place where she’d fallen, intent on finding her dropped phone.
“You looking for this?”
The man had her phone and was holding it out for her. She reached for it, but his grip stayed firm.
“You’ll never meet friendlier dogs. They’re the welcome committee around here. Just wanted to say hello.”
Barking, snarling and salivating was not exactly Jo’s idea of a warm welcome, so she let Thad know what she thought by making a grunting sound at the back of her throat.
“To each their own,” he muttered before trudging toward the lodge, suitcase in hand. However, once they made their way up onto the covered porch, he turned to her. “I’ve had Sue since she was a pup. She wouldn’t hurt a flea, let alone a guest. The other two are her offspring. They’re rambunctious, but gentle as spring lambs.”
“If you say so.” The stranger had an unmistakable Louisiana drawl, not what she expected to find in Montana. She supposed she should have anticipated dogs, however. Jo stomped her boots on the mat outside the door.
“If you’d like, I could introduce you to them...”
Thankfully the topic was dropped when the door swung open and a petite woman stood in the opening, a huge smile on her face and a Santa hat sitting at a jaunty angle on her head, covering red curls. “You must be Jolie! I’m Gloria Cross. Welcome to Silver Tree Ranch. We’re so pleased to have you.”
* * *
THAD SET JOLIE’S bag down in the entry of the ranch house. Four things tipped him off to her city-girl status. Her designer clothes, her designer bag, her ridiculous footwear and her fear of animals.
He nodded to Gloria while the new arrival removed her winter outerwear.
“I hope I’m not inconveniencing you by being early.”
“No, not a problem.” Gloria glanced at Thad. “Join us for supper? I made winter soup and biscuits.”
“I do love your biscuits, Ms. Gloria,” he said. “But I’ve got chores yet. I’ll grab something in the bunkhouse.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” He tipped his hat to Gloria and when the other woman—Jolie—straightened from removing her winter boots, which were not meant for winter, he tipped his hat to her, as well. As she stood there in her oversized sweater and tights, Thad could see she was tall: arms and legs from here to there. She reminded him of the fawn that got trapped on the sheer ice of the pond last winter: brown hair, brown doe eyes with long lashes, long spindly legs...no coordination.
The image was so striking he had to cover a chuckle with a cough.
“Come by later if you feel like it,” Gloria called as he ducked back out. “Dillon’s itching to break into the rum and eggnog.”
“Thank you, Ms. Gloria, but I’m saving my imbibing for Tip’s Eve.”
The door shut behind him and he whistled for the dogs. They’d been sitting by the side of the house waiting for him, and he kneeled down in the snow to give all three a proper head scratch. As far as he was concerned, there was something wrong with a person who didn’t like dogs. Not that the canines didn’t like this Jolie woman. It was a good sign, because if the dogs didn’t like someone...well then, that meant there was really something wrong.
No matter. It wasn’t the first time one of the guests had been skittish around the animals. Even though the ranch had been open for business for only a little over a year, he’d seen it before. While Thad didn’t understand an aversion to dogs, he recognized that anyone who was booking a stay over Christmas didn’t have any other place to be. This woman had arrived alone, which could only mean one thing: she had no family to speak of.
Thad knew firsthand how lonely that could be over the holidays. It’d been eleven years...
Hell, what was he doing, ruminating over the past? That never did a man any good. Particularly him.
He stood and the biggest of the three dogs cozied up to his legs, rubbing against him before placing his paws on Thad’s thigh.
He knew what was coming next.
“Don’t you dare, Humper,” he warned.
But the young dog didn’t heed the warning. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes rolled back as he launched into the action that was his namesake.
* * *
AFTER A DELICIOUS DINNER of hearty
