Page 68 of Winter Vows

Laura stared back at her with solemn eyes, as if she knew just how much was at stake, as if she could guess that they were about to lose the most important man in both their lives.

Feeling as if she were about to face a firing squad, Trish still forced herself to dress with care that evening. Surely she could get some satisfaction from making Hardy regret walking out on her.

When she walked downstairs in a dress that dipped and clung in all the right places, Kelly shot her a knowing look.

“I gather you intend to render the man speechless,” she said lightly.

Now there was a thought, Trish admitted wistfully. If Hardy couldn’t gather his wits after getting a good look at her, he couldn’t break the engagement.

“Something like that,” she told Kelly.

When Hardy arrived a few minutes later, he was wearing a suit. Obviously he considered the end of their engagement to be a special occasion, too, she concluded sourly.

He also seemed nervous, which wasn’t like him at all. He hadn’t been this ill at ease since the night he’d been forced to deliver Laura in the front seat of his pickup, or the morning after when he’d faced her again.

Rather than head toward Garden City as she’d expected, he turned in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” she asked curiously. “Someplace new,” he said.

Obviously he’d chosen a place where the memories of this awkward night wouldn’t come back to haunt him later, she concluded.

When they neared the familiar sight of the pine woods, Trish’s heart began to beat a little faster. When he turned onto that same rutted road, she shot a speculative look at him.

“This is an odd place for a restaurant,” she said quietly, watching his face.

“No restaurant,” he said. “I thought we ought to be someplace more private for this talk.”

She supposed that was considerate, but why here? This was his special place, and now they were about to ruin it with a discussion about how to end something that had never really begun.

Just then they emerged from the woods. Trish’s mouth gaped as she saw the beginnings of a house, the same beautiful log cabin that Hardy had described to her the last time they were here.

“You’re building it,” she whispered, delight spreading across her face. “Oh, Hardy, it’s going to be wonderful. Is this what you’ve been up to these past few weeks?”

He nodded. “Do you really like it? It’s still a long way from being finished, because I’m doing it all myself.” He gave her a surprisingly shy look. “Want to take a look around?”

“Of course,” she said, already exiting the truck. He grinned at her enthusiasm.

“Wait for me. I’ll show you around so you don’t trip over something.” When he reached her side, he took her hand and led her up the front steps onto the wide porch. The front door was in place, complete with the stainedglass window. The design was obviously a custom one, because right in the middle was a bouquet of flowers and—she leaned closer to be sure—an open book.

“Hardy?” she whispered.

“Don’t say anything yet. Just stick with me.”

He drew her into what would be the kitchen, then a formal dining room, then finally into a living room that faced the field of wildflowers, the creek and the setting sun.

“It’s breathtaking,” she said over the lump in her throat.

“Then you won’t mind having dinner right here?” he asked.

“Here?”

He showed her out onto a back patio where a table had been set with the finest silver and china. Champagne was on ice in a bucket. Trish’s heart skipped a beat. This was a far cry from the dismal way she’d expected the evening to go. Was it possible, could he have a different ending in mind? She wanted desperately to believe that it could be.

“You’ve really gone to a lot of trouble,” she said, meeting his gaze, trying to read his expression.

“You like it?”

“Of course I do. The house, the dinner, everything. You even got the sun to set right on cue.”

---