A Cold Creek Holiday. RaeAnne Thayne
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She looked as if she wanted to argue, but he wasn’t at all in the mood to tangle with her anymore tonight. He wanted to get the blasted woman settled in to her cabin and come back to the house so he could figure out where the hell his life had gone so disastrously off-track in a few short months.
“You girls go on up to bed,” he said. Though it was an order, he tried not to phrase it as such. He had learned the first few weeks after Suzi and John died that eight- and eleven-year-old girls didn’t respond like trained commandos to terse commands. “I’ll check on you when I come back inside.”
Without waiting for their answer—or to see if Ms. Kendall followed him—he turned up his collar, pulled down his Stetson and headed out into the lightly blowing snow.
He was halfway down the driveway he hadn’t had time to plow yet and trudging toward the cabins a few hundred yards away from the house before he heard her vehicle start up behind him.
He had to admit, his sister and her husband had picked a good spot for guest cabins. When he was a kid, this part of the struggling ranch had held rusting old farm equipment and a ramshackle shed or two. But Suzi and John had cleared all that out and built four comfortable log cabins out of old salvaged timbers and white chinking so they looked as if they had been there forever.
In the daylight, the place had a nice view of the west slope of the Tetons and of Cold Creek Canyon. And Suzi had made the inside of each cabin warm and welcoming.
He didn’t know much about this sort of thing. As long as he had a sleeping bag and a tight-weave tent to keep out the worst of the bugs and the sandstorms, he was fine. But he imagined the guests of the ranch Suzi had renamed Hope Springs probably appreciated the handmade curtains and the lodgepole pine furnishings.
He unlocked the first cabin and immediately switched on the electric fireplace in the main room and the smaller fireplace in the bedroom. Between the two of them, they did a surprisingly effective job of keeping the place toasty in only a matter of minutes.
He walked back out onto the porch and found the blasted woman trying to wrestle a huge suitcase out of the cargo space of the SUV.
“I said I’d help you with your bags,” he muttered.
Despite the dim light from the porch and the swirl of snow, he didn’t miss the cool look she sent him out of lovely blue eyes he didn’t want to notice.
“I appreciate your…courtesy.”
He didn’t miss the slight, subtle pause before she said the last word. Though he wanted to bark and growl and tell her where to shove that delicate hint of sarcasm, he forced a tight smile.
“Here at Hope Springs, we’re nothing if not courteous,” he said in a benign sort of voice that matched her own.
He reached down and pulled the suitcase away from her then lifted another one out. The back was chock-full with five suitcases and several bags of groceries. At least Joanie must have had the foresight despite her typical ditziness to encourage their guest to shop for food before she arrived. He was grateful for that, at least. The ranch didn’t provide any meals and the nearest restaurant was six miles down the canyon in Pine Gulch, but the cabin was outfitted with a full kitchen.
Between the two of them, it only took a few trips to empty out the back of her vehicle and set everything inside the now-toasty cabin.
When he returned inside with the last load, he found her in the kitchen, putting away food from the grocery bags.
She had taken off her coat and beneath it she wore a pale blue turtleneck that showed just how nicely curved she was in all the right places.
He didn’t want to notice. “The kitchen should have everything you need in the way of pots and pans and that sort of thing. If you’re missing anything you need, you can call up to the main house.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“The reservation said you’re staying until the twenty-seventh. Is anyone else joining you?”
He wondered if he imagined the way she tilted her chin in a rather defiant sort of way. “No.”
She was staying here by herself through Christmas? He wasn’t big on celebrating the holidays himself, but he had to wonder what would make a soft, pretty woman like Emery Kendall leave everything familiar and hide out in the Idaho wilderness alone during Christmas.
None of his business, he reminded himself. He had enough on his plate without spending a minute wondering why she wanted to hole up here by herself.
“If you need anything, the number to the main house is the top button programmed on the phone,” he said.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you for your help.” She paused. “Actually, there is one thing. When I made the initial reservation, I was told I was welcome to use any of the Hope Springs horses during my stay.”
“That’s generally the policy. If you need help saddling a horse, you can usually find me or Bill Higgins, the hired man, somewhere around the place.”
“I shouldn’t need help. I’ve been around horses most of my life. But thank you.”
A woman who sewed fancy hats, wore her clothes with the kind of flair that belonged in a fashion magazine, drove a rented Lexus SUV and apparently had plenty of experience with horses. He gave a mental head shake as he said good-night and walked back into the December night.
He wasn’t sure what to think of her. Nothing, he reminded himself. He didn’t need to spend one more minute than necessary thinking about the woman. She was a guest at the ranch, that was all. One he would be thrilled to send on her way at the earliest possible opportunity.
Chapter Two
She slept better than she had in months.
It was an unexpected boon. She had never been able to sleep well in a strange bed. Coupled with the insomnia that had troubled her since before her mother died, Emery had anticipated a rough night.
Perhaps she had only been exhausted from the long day of travel and the complications of her arrival. Whatever the reason for her deep sleep, she awoke invigorated, her mind racing with ideas for the boutique hotel redesign she was working on for one of her favorite clients, Spencer Hotels.
This is exactly what she hoped might happen, that escaping from her routine in Warrenton might help her recapture some of the joy she had always found when a new project started to click in her head.
What she had taken to be a blizzard the night before left only about three or four inches of new snow on the ground. She opened the rather ordinary beige tab curtains to the alpine scene outside her windows and spent the morning with her sketchbook.
The hotel Eben Spencer had recently purchased was in Livingston, Montana, gateway to the north entrance of Yellowstone. He wanted mountain chic with an edge and custom everything—window coverings, upholstery, bed linens.
By early afternoon, she had filled her sketchbook with several possibilities she thought would work for the property. After a quick bowl of canned tomato soup and half a sandwich, the lure of the brilliant blue sky—the pure clarity of it against the dark green pine topped with snow—was too powerful for her to resist.
She bundled into silk long johns and her warmest outdoor gear and decided to check out the ranch’s equine offerings.
As she walked past red-painted outbuildings toward the large horse barn and corrals she had spied the night before on her way in, she saw no sign of her reluctant host. Her only companion was a magpie who squawked at her from atop the split-rail fence then hopped away in a flash of iridescent wings.
At the horse barn, a half dozen horses munched alfalfa that had recently been spread for them in the snow-covered pasture and it appeared as if that many again preferred the warmth of the barn.
She stood at the railing, admiring the quarter horses. She could see a couple