Chapter Two
Winter
A massive man walks behind my car on his way to my side.
His presence reminds me of a grumpy bear with his beanie pulled low, sturdy Carhart coat securely closed, low slung dark wash jeans, and snow boots.
I’m having flashbacks from the movie I Know What You Did Last Summer, my mind quickly conjuring up a sharp ice pick for him to wield and all.
“Whoa,” he holds his hands up, pausing before he can take another step. “Easy, Miss. I didn’t mean to scare you; I just stopped to help.”
I know that voice...
“I-I didn’t see you. Or hear you, for that matter, and you’ve caught me off guard.
” I admit, taking him in from head to toe all over again.
He’s big everywhere, height, width, you name it, and I’d bet he’s stacked with muscles underneath his cold-weather attire.
I glance over his frame, silently chastising myself in the process because this is not the time to be checking the man out.
“Winter?” His mouth drops open, his icy-blue, sparkling gaze the one now skating over me.
When we were younger, I always thought his irises looked more gray in the winter, rather than the signature blue every female reporter seems to comment on in their hockey reports.
The color is so pale against the wintry white snow in the background right now that I’m pleased to note I’m still right.
“Sean?” I knew I was familiar with that voice from somewhere!
Too bad it has to belong to my ex. The one I gave my heart to a long time ago. The man who turned out to be a super-talented hockey star. The same guy who was just named GQ’s man of the year. Just great.
I gaze at him, looking from a GQ spectator point of view.
Why does he have to look better in person?
Not that I bought the magazine or anything.
I may’ve glanced at it online in my spare private time, however, wracking my brain if I’d ever considered him being the type of man to end up on a popular magazine cover.
The answer was a resounding no, by the way.
“It really is you,” he responds, his voice laced with a hint of softness.
Is he actually pleased to see me? It almost sounds like it, but that surely can’t be the case.
Not since he’s the one who broke my heart a long time ago.
I need to keep reminding myself so I’m not even a touch bitter about it.
Now’s not the time or place; it’s the holidays, and I plan on holy-jollying my way through the next month.
“Yep, it’s me. All in one piece,” I reply awkwardly and cringe to myself.
Is that seriously the best I could come up with?
I’ve dreamt of getting a moment like this, never thinking it’d actually happen in my lifetime, but I must’ve played this scenario over in my mind a hundred times and never once lacked for a witty retort. “I mean…Hi, how are you, Sean?”
“Uh, I’m good.” He nods, and I instantly feel a touch better. He’s just as weird about this scenario as I am. “So you spun out, like old times, huh? I’m glad I stopped.”
Is he truly glad it was him, or is he saying that to be kind? Also, who cares. All that matters is that he can give me a ride up the mountain to call someone, so I don’t have to walk in the cold and snow after all.
“Yep, that’s me, the spinner-outter. Um, would you mind driving me up the hill some so I can get enough cell service to call my dad? I need him to come get me and take care of my car.”
“I just passed your family in the village, so they won’t answer if you call your folks’ house. How about I give you a ride home? If you’ll unlock your car, I can snag your bags for you.”
I click the key fob without argument, enjoying how his lips turn up just enough to flash me a dimple with his cute little smirk.
I always swooned over that sucker when I was a teenager.
If he really wanted to knock my socks off, he’d grin, and then I’d be toast for whatever else he happened to say.
I swear, the man could talk himself out of anything wearing those dimples.
Sean Spruce was the town’s good ‘ol boy, going off to play hockey in the junior league and then again, on a full-ride scholarship. Only to end up making it big-time in the pros, getting paid more zeros than I could ever imagine spending. Of course, he could do no wrong in anyone’s eyes back then, and I’m sure they think he now walks on water or something else just as ridiculous.
Typical successful jock from a small town, you know how it goes.
He grabs my heavy, oversized suitcase and my big duffel bag, which had been taking up most of my back seat.
He carries both of them like they weigh nothing while leading the way to his truck.
The four-by-four is big and manly, trimmed out with some beefy tires and dark-tinted windows.
He opens the passenger side door for me, because he’s a gentleman like that and apparently hasn’t forgotten some of the manners he was raised on.
“Thanks,” I offer a smile and reach inside, attempting to climb in.
I place one foot on the side step, and in the next blink, I go sliding.
My eyes clench closed as my arms flail, expecting to land on my butt in the snow.
I momentarily brace for the sting to hit me from the impact, but it never happens.
Instead, I find myself wrapped in a pair of very capable hands.
His muscular arms hold me firmly enough that I’m definitely not going anywhere unless he puts me there.
I sigh, because really? Of all the people for this to happen with, it has to be him.
“Oh my God! That was a close one,” I whisper. I’m out of breath from the situation when I didn’t really do anything at all.
“Mmhmm, how about you let me help you? I know you can do it yourself, but I don’t want you to slip anymore and injure yourself.”
His gentlemanly reasoning makes sense, so I nod and let him partially lift me into the truck.
He does it so quickly and gracefully, I don’t know it’s happened until I’m safely sitting in the seat.
I must still be in a bit of shock, because in the next moment, he grabs the seatbelt and reaches the belt across me, securely buckling me in.
“Thanks,” I manage to respond. I’m feeling a bit breathless for a whole new reason now, my body tingling in every single spot his arm just brushed against. My mind’s a bit fuzzy, like a cloud of happy warmth has just descended over me.
He smells good, too, like crisp, mountain man, if that were a smell.
Pine, cloves, smoke, and snow all wrapped in one.
It should be illegal for him to smell so divine when he already looks as handsome as he does and has a slice of charm to back it up.
If there was any doubt in the back of my mind, it’s gone now.
I know the village has been treating this man like a king.
At least I can be a little miffed over that, since I’ve been dubbed a troublemaker ever since the pasture incident happened.
“No problem.” He winks and closes my door, moving to put my belongings in the back seat.
He just winked at me. Winked! Can you believe the nerve of this guy? I want to be appalled, but rather, I find myself still hazy over the entire interaction like a giant goober.
The driver’s side door opens, and he hops up into the truck with practiced ease.
Although with his height, it’s probably like sliding into a car for me.
The truck suits him; it fits with his overwhelming, yet understated presence.
“You warm enough? I can turn the heat up?” He says it like a question, and I appreciate him making sure I’m comfortable.
I shake my head. He’d left his truck running when he came to check on me, so it’s already cozy in here. “Are you here visiting your mom for Thanksgiving, or…” I trail off, hoping he’ll fill in the rest, and put my nosiness to ease.
“Yeah, I was overdue for a visit. How about you? Looks like a lot of luggage for a quick trip.”
I may’ve overpacked a little, but a girl can never have too many clothes or shoes, in my opinion. We’re not like guys who are fine with the same three choices with a variety pack of underwear; we need options. “I’m home for a month. I was overdue, too.”
“Interesting,” he responds cryptically, but doesn’t prod any further.
In no time, his oversized pick-up truck has us over the rest of the mountain and descending into the valley.
My breath catches as I take in the village and the surrounding property; it’s stunning, and I have to fight off tears from welling.
I’ve missed this place since my last visit more than I realized.
It’s not that I’m miserable where I live; it’s the opposite, actually, and I’ve been quite happy there.
Until recently. As I’ve gotten older, I look around myself, noticing I’m missing out on the things I want to do the most. I’ve always aspired to be successful in business and work my tail off until I feel that I’ve reached a specific level.
You know, burst my way through the glass ceiling and all of that jazz, but it’s no longer as appealing as it once was.
I want to be able to enjoy life, not just work my way through it, while missing out on all the good stuff.
There’s so much I want to experience and also bring into my life that city living doesn’t offer.
Coming back home is like looking into a snow globe filled with so many things I want, but didn’t realize until it was too late.
I was in such a hurry to leave this place, I never anticipated I’d regret it and wish to be back.
As soon as I see the bars pop up on my cell again, I send a quick text to Samantha. I can’t wait to see her.
Me: Just got into town. Tell your husband to hurry up and start his vacation! I need my BFF here already.
Me: Also, I’ve got some tea to tell ya… *wink emoji*
I close out of my text message, knowing the last one will pique her curiosity.
“Do you want me to stop anywhere so you can pick up anything before we get to the farm?”
I shake my head, not willing to prolong this visit with him any longer than I have to, even for a treat from Tasty Sip.
“No, thank you. I appreciate the ride so much. Truly.” I reply and barely glance at him.
I keep my stare pinned on the road ahead of us or glance out the window on my side, smiling each time I see another deer.
I can’t risk looking over at him, or I may get stuck staring, and I’ve already been embarrassed enough for today; I don’t want to add any more to it.
After a beat, I say, “I’ll have to send over some of those cookies your mom always raves about as a thank you. I’m sure I won’t see you before you head back, so it’s the least I can do to repay you for giving me a lift.”
He looks over at me long enough that I eventually meet his stare, ready to ask him why he’s not paying attention to the road instead. His brow hikes, a smile curling his lips as he responds, “Your mom didn’t tell you the news? About Thanksgiving?”
“Um, no?” I frown and shake my head, waiting for him to continue.
“Our moms have become even closer, basically best friends at this point. We’re eating at your place for Thanksgiving dinner, so I’ll be seeing you again day after tomorrow. Probably for most of your visit, actually, since they’re always together.”
Of course they are.