Page 10 of Snowed in with the Rancher

Then he kissed her, and when she kissed him back, he felt his heart melt. When they finally broke apart, he put his arm around her shoulders and turned them back the way they'd come. “We'd better get back, or we'll miss that dinner reservation.”

“Well, the good thing about you helping little Josh today is that if you do ever have kids, you know you can handle them.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and he hoped she'd think the redness he felt spreading across his cheeks would be mistaken for too much sun.

“I, uh, never thought about it, really.” He looked out at the sky that was fading from burnt orange to lavender as the sun set. “But you know, with a property as big as my family's, a few extra ranch hands wouldn't be such a bad idea.”

They both laughed before she glanced down at her wristwatch. “Oh!” she squeaked. “Our reservation is in five minutes.”

“That calls for drastic measures,” he said before bending down and hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

She screamed with laughter as he carried her at a jog down the beach, her head hanging over his back. The train had left the station, and he hoped Olivia would hold on for the ride.

FIVE

It was past midnight when Tate heard movement in the kitchen. He'd been lying in bed for hours, trying—and failing—to fall asleep. His mind kept replaying their history. The moments on the ship, the feel of her in his arms, the way she'd seemed to shine light and joy on everything they'd done. He tossed, he turned, he ached. He remembered how, after everything they'd discovered together, Olivia had left the ship two days after the snorkeling lesson without a word of explanation. She hadn't told him she was going, hadn't even bothered to leave him a note.

They'd never gotten around to trading last names, they'd never talked about making plans for the future, but he'd thought they'd have time for that before the trip came to an end. Apparently, he'd been wrong. To all appearances, she'd walked off that ship, cutting her cruise short, and never looked back. He'd thought about trying to track her down—if for no other reason than to ask herwhy—but with nothing but a first name to go on and no contact information, he hadn't even known where to start. He'd finally had to put the memories aside and move on with his life, never admitting even to himself how much her abandonment had hurt him. After a lifetime of never quite feeling like he fit in with other people, he thought he'd finally found his person in her…but he'd been utterly wrong. In the five years since, he hadn't felt even the slightest urge to try again. He'd gotten used to the idea that he was simply meant to be on his own.

But he wasn't on his own now. His house was more occupied than it had been in years, and the proof of that came in the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing. He headed out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said as he stood in the dark, watching her rummage in the pantry.

“Oh!” She jumped and spun, her hand over her heart.

“Sorry,” he said, holding out his hands to indicate he was no threat.

She huffed out a laugh. “Oh, no, I'm sorry. I think it's everything that went on today. I'm just a little jumpy.”

He nodded, moving into the kitchen, making sure to maintain some distance between them. Her presence still did things to him, things he didn't want to acknowledge.

“Are the girls all right? Can I get you something?” he asked.

She gave him a tight smile. “They're sleeping like the dead.” She blinked. “I nodded off pretty fast myself—but then I kept waking up at every unfamiliar sound. I just can't seem to settle. Would it be okay if I made some tea?”

He nodded and pushed the button on the electric kettle his stepmother had gotten him for his birthday. “Take your pick,” he said as he opened the cupboard that held a decent selection of teas. He was partial to tea himself.

A few minutes later, he sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and watched as Olivia dipped her tea bag into the steaming hot water in her mug. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and a strong wind shook the trees.

“There's something we need to talk about,” she said suddenly, breaking him out of the strange, maudlin emotions that were cycling through him.

“Sure,” he said easily, although his stomach knotted with warning. Was she finally going to tell him why she'd left? He'd wanted an answer to that question for five years, but now he felt strangely nervous about hearing it.

She didn't suggest that they go into the living room, nor did she move to take the seat next to him at the breakfast bar, seeming to prefer to keep the big expanse of tiled countertop between them.

“The girls are going to be five in March,” she said, looking at him intently.

“So they'll start kindergarten in the fall?” he asked, unsure where this was going.

“Yeah.” Her voice was flat. “They were conceived in June.”

June…five years ago… It was as if the world stopped spinning for a moment, screeching to a halt as he stared at her pale face in the low light provided by the kitchen range hood.

He tried to take a breath, feeling as if he'd been kicked in the chest by a mule. His mouth opened, then shut again, and he tried to inhale.

“Breathe,” she said softly, and his breath came rushing back.

He coughed sharply before his lungs kicked back into action, then he stood, his heart racing. “I…don't know what to say,” he said.Understatement of the year.He shook his head at himself. What the hell? This wasn't some soap opera. Women you'd known for a few days didn't suddenly show up years later with fully formed children that wereyourswithout you even knowing.

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