скачать книгу бесплатно
Grandma Sheryl had sent him on this errand to pick up some horses she’d bought on his way to her Oklahoma ranch, and he’d agreed without even remotely suspecting an alternate motive. Anything for his grandma—anything except this. Grandma wasn’t usually so sly. Heat rushed to his face and he lowered his head so Sarah wouldn’t see his flaming cheeks.
Why hadn’t it occurred to him before that Grandma Sheryl might have something up her sleeve? He wouldn’t put it past her to have cooked up some nutty matchmaking scheme. How was he going to explain that to Sarah? Her reception could be termed less than enthusiastic.
“I didn’t expect...you,” Sarah admitted, voicing exactly what Marcus had been thinking. “When I spoke to your grandmother, I had the impression she was sending one of her wranglers to collect my horses from me, not one of her grandsons.”
“If it makes any difference, she didn’t tell me I’d be seeing you, either.”
“Oh.”
That one syllable pretty much summed it up. His skin prickled as if he was breaking out in hives. Had it not occurred to Grandma Sheryl that this encounter might not go well? That Sarah might not want to see him again? He and Sarah hadn’t parted on the best of terms after they’d graduated from high school, and they hadn’t seen each other since. And she didn’t sound as if she was too thrilled about the prospect of seeing him now.
“I’m just here to collect the horses and then I’ll get out of your hair,” he promised, grinning despite the discomfort of his churning stomach.
“Fine,” she agreed with a clipped nod. She wasn’t even trying to smile. “But first I need to take care of Crash. Clever girl somehow opened the paddock gate and decided to take a little hike on her own. I was afraid I might have lost her for good.”
Marcus eyed Crash and then the Percheron. “How do you plan to get her back to your ranch?”
She chuckled, but to his keen ears it sounded forced. He laughed along with her, hoping that would encourage her not to stress over it. Chasing a runaway reindeer was kind of funny in a way, but maybe not if you were the owner of said reindeer.
“It’s a Christmas tree farm, not a ranch. And I’ve brought my trusty lariat along to catch the errant reindeer,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him, the sudden sparkle in her gray eyes making Marcus’s breath catch in his throat. “Can you give me a boost? Mag here is as gentle as a lamb but he’s a big ol’ brute.”
“I’ll say,” Marcus agreed, threading his fingers to provide a hand-made stirrup. She steadied herself by gripping his shoulder and their gazes met and held for what seemed like an eternity, but which was probably only a few seconds, long enough for electricity to zing through him and rev his pulse.
They were both older now, and hopefully wiser, but apparently some things never changed, such as the way her gray eyes could so easily capture his and jolt him right down to his core. Such as the way his head spun when he inhaled the sweet apple of her shampoo, the same scent she’d worn when they were dating in high school.
What would Grandma Sheryl think of that?
Better for him if she didn’t find out. He swallowed hard and boosted Sarah up onto Mag’s sturdy back, half-relieved when she was no longer in his arms, and yet he felt oddly vacant.
“Is Mag short for something?” he asked, trying to turn his mind to something less hazardous.
“Magnificent. The other half of his team is Jes—Majestic.”
“Clever. And accurate.”
“Thank you. I named them myself.” She seemed to sit a little taller as she slipped the lariat off her shoulder and nudged Mag forward with her heels. To Marcus’s surprise, Crash didn’t budge when the large draft horse trotted in her direction, and Sarah easily slid the loop over the reindeer’s neck.
“Okay, now, Crash, let’s get you back home where you belong.” She glanced behind her to Marcus, leaning her free hand on Mag’s flanks. “You can follow me back to the farm in your truck.”
“That won’t bother the animals?”
“Not if you don’t tailgate.”
She flashed him a cheeky grin, turned forward and kicked Mag into a quick trot. Crash snuffed in protest but held back for only a moment before following her without any more hesitation. Marcus couldn’t say that he blamed the reindeer.
There was a time when he would have followed Sarah anywhere.
* * *
Sarah couldn’t seem to catch a breath nor calm her erratic pulse. She was painfully aware of the deep purr of Marcus’s truck directly behind her, but she didn’t dare glance backward to see if he was following at a safe distance.
He was. He was Marcus, after all.
Marcus Ender. He’d been on her mind often in recent weeks, but she’d never considered that she might actually see him again. He was her happy place, the spot in her mind and the high point of her past memories where she went when she needed to remember the way things used to be, when in her innocence and naïveté she’d believed the whole wonderful world stretched before her, full of adventures and blessings. Before she’d grown up and finally understood how painful life really was.
To her deep regret, little had gone right in her life since she’d graduated from high school and left small-town Oklahoma behind for the thrill of Colorado. She’d been full of ideals and intentions, the promise of higher education and making it out on her own.
She’d graduated college, but then her life had gone off on a tangent she never would have expected. Things had gotten bad. Then worse. Then downright terrible. Right now she felt as if she was drowning. She would have long since given up trying to succeed at all if it weren’t for her beloved daughters. Even given all the misfortunes she’d encountered, she would do it all again in a heartbeat for Onyx and Jewel.
Every day, with every ounce of her being, she fought for her children and prayed for them and worked for things to get better. But they didn’t get better, and no matter how hard she prayed, the Lord didn’t appear to answer her, or even hear her meager pleas. Lately she’d stopped asking.
Crash snuffed, bringing her abruptly back to the present. The reindeer pulled back unexpectedly, contending with the rope around her neck. The lariat tightened and nearly slipped from Sarah’s fingers. She dropped the horse’s reins and grabbed the rope with both hands, tugging against the stubborn reindeer. That’s all she needed, to have Crash bolt and run. This day was already a prime disaster in the making without silly reindeer games.
She snorted at her unintentional pun. Oh, she was funny today. And it was only going to get better from here.
Marcus had come to take away the last vestiges of her life with her late husband, Justin. Mag and Jes, the Percheron team that had once drawn the sleigh taking cheery guests out into the woods to find the perfect Christmas tree, would now be part of Sheryl Ender’s breeding program—or something. They hadn’t really discussed why Sheryl wanted to purchase the draft horses from her. Last she knew, the older lady and her business partner bred and trained quarter horses for barrel racing. Percherons seemed a far cry from that, but if Sheryl had use for the Percherons and would give a good price for them, who was Sarah to complain?
At least her beloved horses were going to someone she trusted and admired. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but she dashed them away with the back of her hand.
No more tears. She was done crying.
The only animals left at the farm after the Percherons departed would be Snort and Crash. She had no idea what she was going to do with a couple of live reindeer. Trying to sell them a week before Christmas was like trying to pawn penny candy at a gourmet chocolate shop. An added stress to an already bleak season.
The sky, which only minutes before had been a pale blue and lined with a few fluffy clouds on the horizon, had now turned a dark, ominous mixture of colors as a storm surged over the front range of the Rocky Mountains. Sarah was familiar with Colorado weather and how abruptly things could change. Some days you could get a tan in the morning and build a snowman by midafternoon. She sensed the change as much as saw it, breathed the feeling of imminent snow in the air, and moments later large white flakes were spitting from the sky.
She glanced back at Marcus. He was following close enough that she could see the half smile on his lips, but his expressive eyes were shadowed by the brim of his hat. He’d appeared every bit as shocked as she was at their unexpected encounter with each other, and she wondered what he thought about it now.
She shook her head and scoffed at herself. Why did it matter? He would load the Percherons in his trailer and be on his way within the hour. That would be the best thing for both of them, if he left without lingering. The less time they had to spend together, the better.
Unfortunately, her plan to be quickly rid of Marcus hinged on the weather, which wasn’t cooperating at all. The sky was glowing a dark purplish-gray color. Not a good sign.
By the time they reached the farm several minutes later, the ground was already covered with a fresh blanket of snow and there was no end in sight. The already snow-packed roads would be extra slick, with dangerous patches of black ice lurking just under the white blanket. Marcus’s truck was a four-wheel drive, but she doubted that would help him navigate the difficult landscape, especially with a trailer attached. Winter driving was tricky for those experienced with the conditions. She didn’t know where Marcus had been in the past twelve years, but if he still lived in Oklahoma, he wouldn’t be familiar with the ferocity of this weather.
Reaching the barn, she threw her leg across Mag’s flank and jumped to the ground, then set her heels and tugged on Crash’s rope, urging her toward the barn. One would have thought the errant reindeer would be easily tempted by the prospect of warmth and food, but apparently not. The crazy animal planted her four hooves and straightened her neck and pulled her entire weight backward.
Stubborn, stubborn reindeer.
She was still mumbling a few choice words about fur rugs and venison steaks when Marcus exited his truck. He chuckled. “Need a hand?”
Sarah’s first instinct was to refuse. She didn’t need Marcus’s help with anything. But then common sense took over and she tossed him the rope. It wasn’t his fault she was mad at the world and everything in it.
“Knock yourself out.”
“Well, I hope not, darlin’. It’ll take more than one feisty reindeer to sweep me off my feet.” He winked at her and her treacherous heart fluttered.
Marcus was six foot two and built like a brick wall, but it still took a great deal of tugging on his part to get the stubborn reindeer moving again. Sarah directed him to Crash’s stall and then put up Mag, giving the Percheron a good rubdown and a bucket of oats to help tide him over for the long journey ahead.
Marcus could probably use a good pick-me-up as well, maybe a stout cup of coffee for the road, but Sarah hesitated to invite him up to the house.
For one thing, Onyx and Jewel and her parents-in-law, Carl and Eliza, were inside the cabin. There would be the obligatory introductions and Marcus, ever the social butterfly, would no doubt get caught up in the moment after finding himself accosted by the friendly elderly couple, the enthusiastic three-year-old and the unquestionably adorable baby.
Another reason she had qualms about bringing Marcus around had to do with the state of her house. It was in dire need of repair, from the missing tiles on the roof to a kitchen cabinet half falling off the hinges. Then there was the starkness of the decor, or rather, a lack of any sort of decor whatsoever. She’d pawned nearly every piece of furniture and all of the artwork to pay the most pressing of recent bills. There was only a smattering of pieces left—such as a beat-up old olive-green armchair and a hideaway sofa that had seen better days.
It would be obvious to even the most dispassionate of observers that she was in dire straits, and of all the people on planet earth, Marcus was the last man she’d want to have discover her this way. Her cheeks heated. Oh, the humiliation of it all.
The whole reason she’d broken up with him on the day after their high school graduation was so that she could go out and make a success of herself. They were headed in different directions and she couldn’t be held back by a long-distance relationship. She needed to stay focused on her studies so she would never end up sending her kids to school wearing secondhand clothes as she’d had to do when she was a child. She was going to make something of herself.
Ha. What a joke that had turned out to be. She was dangling precariously by a thread right now, and it grew thinner all the time. But Marcus didn’t need to know that—any of it. A woman had her pride, after all.
Marcus stood near the stable door, his hat in his hand and his brow drawn in an unusually solemn expression as he stared out at the landscape. She was about ready to suggest they load up the Percherons so he could be on his way when he turned to her and threaded his fingers through his thick golden hair.
“The weather has taken a turn for the worse.” She knew he was trying his best to sound conversational, but she could hear the note of worry underlying his tone.
She stepped up beside him and peered out over the landscape, already knowing what she was going to see but still hoping beyond hope that he was overreacting.
He wasn’t. His truck was already covered with a half inch of heavy snow. She couldn’t even see the tracks the truck had made driving in. Perhaps worst of all, the wind was lashing the snow sideways, leaving zero visibility. She could barely make out the lights from the cabin, even though it was located only a few hundred yards from the stable.
“You’re right. This doesn’t look good,” she agreed tightly, her throat going dry.
Oh no.
Her worst-case scenario was rapidly becoming her only option. What else was she to do?
Marcus frowned and settled his hat on his head. “No, it doesn’t look good at all. I’d best load up the horses and head out of here before the storm gets any worse.”
As much as she didn’t want to do it, she laid a restraining hand on his arm. “I’m afraid we’re too late for that. It looks like you’re going to have to take your hat off and stay awhile.
Chapter Two (#ulink_5a808e12-fe11-5213-a3ef-e686ff26e53f)
Was it his imagination or had Sarah’s shoulders slumped when she’d suggested they go up to her house? Did his presence bother her that much?
It was a disheartening notion, but she was right about one thing—he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not for a few hours yet. He’d never seen anything like this sudden turn in the weather. The already snow-packed roads were receiving a double wallop of the white stuff. Snow on snow. He didn’t even want to think about trying to drive in it, especially towing a trailer with Grandma Sheryl’s precious equine cargo. Odd, though, that he hadn’t seen any quarter horses. Only the two Percherons, and Grandma wouldn’t have any use for those.
For the moment a steaming-hot cup of black coffee and the opportunity to catch up with Sarah sounded great to him, even if she didn’t appear equally enthused.
As they approached the house, Marcus darted around her to get the door, but it opened before he could get his hand around the knob, nearly sending him careening into the cabin.
Startled, Marcus stepped back. A white-haired old man with a bushy beard greeted them and hastily ushered them inside. The guy was a dead ringer for Santa, from the rosy cheeks and the glitter in his eyes to his round belly. The only thing missing from the picture was a bow-like smile, which had been replaced by a worried frown. No bowl-full-of-jelly laughter here.
The fellow fit right into the surroundings, seeing as this was a Christmas tree farm and all. But what was he doing in her cabin? Sarah retained her very own Santa Claus and the man lived in her house?
“Thank the good Lord you’re safely home,” the man exclaimed in a booming bass voice. “Eliza is in a tizzy. She was just about ready to send me out after you in this blizzard. I’m grateful you came back when ya did. I wouldn’t want to have had to chase ya through the snow.”
“Sorry, Pops.” Sarah brushed the white flakes from her dark hair and removed her snow boots and down jacket. “Pops, this is Marcus, one of Sheryl Ender’s grandsons. He’s here to pick up the horses, but unfortunately, the storm waylaid him. Marcus, this is my father-in-law, Carl Kendricks.”
“Good to meet you, sir,” Marcus replied automatically, shaking the older man’s hand. He was glad he didn’t have to think about the effort because his mind was busy wrapping itself around what he’d just learned.
Sarah was married. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be. She was a beautiful woman with a heart of gold. He didn’t know why the news came as a surprise to him, except that—
He glanced at her left ring finger, but it was bare.
Divorced, maybe? But then why would she be living with her husband’s parents?
“Sarah?” a woman called from the next room. “Is that you, honey? We were starting to get worried what with the snow croppin’ up and all. Jewel just woke up from her nap. I fed her a bottle but she’s still fussy. I think she wants her mama.”
A pleasantly plump white-haired woman—Mrs. Claus, if Marcus didn’t miss his guess—bustled into the room with a baby on one hip and a young dark-haired girl following along, hiding behind her grandmother’s leg. The children were beautiful, the spitting images of their mother.
“Oh,” the older woman exclaimed when she saw Marcus. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
Marcus grinned. “I’m here for the horses.”
“One of Sheryl’s grandsons,” Carl supplied. “Marcus, this is my wife, Eliza.”
“You’re from Oklahoma? Did you go to school with Sarah?”
Marcus’s gaze shifted to Sarah. Went to school with her? He’d dated her, for all four years of high school. He’d thought they were headed for an engagement and a wedding.
How wrong could a man be?
“I—er—yes, ma’am. We were in the same class together.” He figured it was best to stick with the broad picture. No sense bringing up the past when her husband might waltz into the room at any moment.
Awkward.
“You all settle in now. Marcus, go ahead and shuck your coat and boots at the door,” Eliza said, handing the baby to Sarah. “Coffee’s already on. I’ll grab an extra cup. I figured you’d need something to warm your innards after being out in that mess. Storm’s a brewin’.” She gestured toward the front window. Outside the wind swirled the large snowflakes both horizontally and vertically, creating a virtual whiteout. “Did you find Crash?”
“Silly reindeer was a good mile or so away, standing right in the middle of the road and blocking Marcus’s truck.”
“She wouldn’t budge,” Marcus added with a chuckle, winking at Eliza. “Good thing for me that Sarah happened along. I’ve never been face-to-face with a real live reindeer before. I didn’t know what to do with her.”
“Crash would have moved eventually, when she got hungry enough,” Sarah said.
Marcus switched his gaze to her. There was something—off—in her tone, and even holding her baby, she had her arms wrapped around herself in a universally defensive gesture. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his years as a counselor had given him a sixth sense where people’s emotions were concerned, even when they were trying to hide them.
Sarah was trying to conceal her feelings but she still sounded...down. Maybe even depressed.
His chest ached. His heart hurt for her, even if he didn’t know why. She seemed as if she had it all— a beautiful family, a Christmas tree farm. Even live reindeer. How cool was that?
A thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Was he the reason she was sad?
“I’ve been meaning to ask—what is Sheryl going to do with a couple of Percherons, anyway?” Carl queried, running a hand down the gristle on his face.
Marcus didn’t know whether to answer the question or ask two more. How did Carl and Eliza know Grandma Sheryl? And more to the point, what was this about him being here to take the Percherons?
“Wait—what? I’m not here for barrel racers? Quarter horses?”
“Quarter horses?” Eliza snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not running a ranch here, son. What would a Christmas tree farm be doing with rodeo stock?”
Marcus didn’t have a clue what a Christmas tree farm would do with barrel racers, but he was equally stymied as to why Grandma Sheryl, who trained quarter horses for rodeo would buy a couple of Percherons. It didn’t make any sense.
