Chapter 18 Louise
LOUISE
It was breathtaking. Magical.
There was something about being in nature that always stirred my soul. But seeing that nature draped in inches of snow and glittering ice was like stepping into a different world.
The trees arched overhead, heavy with snow, their limbs bowing toward each other to create a natural tunnel that closed us off from the rest of the world. The road had vanished entirely, replaced by a pristine white ribbon stretching endlessly ahead, unmarred except for the tracks we left behind.
Thick clouds had rolled in, blotting out the sun, its light reduced to a muted silver glow behind the haze.
The soft light turned everything a gentle blue-gray, a dreamscape of snow and shadow.
For the first time that morning, I was grateful for the overcast sky—its mercy dulled the throb behind my temples.
About thirty minutes into the ride, the flurries shifted into a steady snowfall—fat, wet flakes drifting down in hypnotic patterns.
They clung to my lashes, melted against my cheeks, caught in the folds of my scarf.
Around the same time, I finally gathered the courage to lift my chest off Prudence’s neck and sit upright again, letting my body sway with her gait.
Ryder and his horse never left my side, my reins securely in his grip. True to form, not a word was spoken.
While I was beginning to relax, entranced by the beauty around us, Ryder remained hyperalert, as if he were expecting the boogeyman to jump out. Every snort of the horse, every pop of a twig breaking, he was attuned to, although never moving more than a slight turn of his head.
His gaze never met mine, not once, and I found myself staring at him. There was a quiet confidence about him that pulled you in, making you want to know more. Even the way Ryder rode the horse was skillful and competent.
I’d noticed the gun holstered on his hip before we were even down the driveway. Instead of making me fearful, it made me feel safe. The Man was always in control.
I wondered if he had a family somewhere.
Divorced, perhaps. And how did he make his money?
Ryder didn’t appear to have the entitled attitude that came with old money, so I assumed he’d achieved success the old-fashioned way—with hard work.
And what was up with the lack of furniture in the house? No pictures? And the coldness to it?
Why didn’t he speak?
And who the heck forgot to teach him manners?
As I watched him, he was completely unreadable, his face frozen in a brooding expression that kept you on your toes. He was beautiful, though. There was no doubt about that.
Despite the snow, I was warm. The blanket he’d given me was thick wool, impervious to the frigid temperature. The blanket had been his first offer, which was nice, but there was no question he’d wanted me out of his home. Like a bad case of termites.
I wondered why.
What felt like an hour passed by, still without a word spoken, when I began to recognize my surroundings. A fallen tree limb, a sharp bend in the road. And finally, a burst of burnt orange through the white.
“There he is,” I said, fully straightening my spine for the first time since the journey began.
I’d never been so happy to see Ansel in my life. Drifts of snow stretched up to the floorboard. The roof and hood were covered. But he was in one piece.
Ryder slid off his horse with the grace of someone who’d done it a million times.
After unthreading the shovel from his saddle, he grabbed a few bags and walked over to the SUV, then began shoveling. He didn’t tell me to come, or offer to help me off the horse, so I stayed put and watched him work.
Small puffs of breath escaped with each scoop as he shoveled in smooth, quick, efficient movements.
I expected no less. Ryder was the type of guy who got the job done.
I imagined him as someone who took pride in doing manual labor, and considered it an insult to hire anyone to do something that he could do with his own two hands.
As the mound of snow behind him grew, I began to feel useless. Jerk or not, the Man was helping me out of a jam, and I didn’t feel right just sitting there watching him. Unless I had popcorn and a glass of wine, because if I’m being totally honest, the view was not bad.
“Do you need any help?” I hollered.
He just grunted in response.
I looked at the ground, a thousand feet below. After convincing myself that snow provided adequate padding, I wrapped a death grip around the saddle horn, lowered my torso against the horse’s neck—my safe place—and slid my leg over the side.
Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me was all I could think as I slid off the horse in slow motion like a blob of slime. By the time my boots hit the snow, my heart was pounding.
I made it.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I peeked around the horse’s neck, ensuring Ryder didn’t witness my epic dismount. With a fresh burst of confidence, I squared my shoulders and walked over to the SUV.
“How can I help?”
A whoosh of the shovel passed inches from my face, followed by a plop of snow.
“I said no.”
“No?”
“No.”
“No to what?”
“To your first question.”
“Oh. I didn’t hear you.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets and took a step back, giving him the few feet he demanded remain between us at all times.
Once the snow was cleared, Ryder grabbed a bag—that he could have asked me to hand to him—unlaced it, and dumped sand behind the tires.
He stood up straight and held out his hand, palm up. “Keys.”
“Keys?”
“To your car.”
My eyes slowly rounded in horror.
“Keys,” he said again.
Heat shot to the tips of my ears as I looked at my backpack and duffel bag that he’d grabbed before storming out and had secured to the saddle.
No purse.
Oh. My. God.
“I . . . I’m so sorry . . .”
His lips pressed into a tight line, the muscles in his jaw twitching.
Babbling, I said quickly, “I didn’t grab my purse on the way out. I didn’t realize we were leaving. And then the whole horse thing threw me off. My keys are in my purse.”
Die. That’s what I wanted to do. For, like, the third time that day.
His nostrils flared. It was the nail in my coffin.
I looked at the gun on his hip. Just do it already. Put me out of my misery.
He looked back at Ansel, then at me, and I stiffened.
Scowling, he stalked over to Prudence, yanked the wool blanket from the saddle, and tossed it to me. The corner caught my hair, pulling half over my eyes. I was swatting away the strands as he jumped onto his horse and yanked the reins as it danced in place.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Think you can stay alive?”
I shrugged, meaning it.
“Try.” He flicked the reins, and the black horse took off like a bullet through the snow.
I watched the flash of dark lightning until it disappeared through the trees, taking a different route than he’d come with me. A shortcut that I must not have had the skill to maneuver.
Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I blew out a deep breath.
What a freaking day.
What a freaking week.