A Snow Country Christmas (The Carsons of Mustang Creek #4)(35)

“We’ll get to that. I’m making homemade pizza, by the way.”

“That sounds fabulous.” Mick scooted his seat back a few inches, careful not to jar Samson, who was curled up on the seat behind him. “Let me guess—smoked salmon and caviar on crème fra?che.”

“This isn’t Beverly Hills, hotshot. How about sausage, pepperoni, onion and green pepper.”

“Or sardines, Gouda and watermelon.” His tone was so serious she heard Daisy draw in a disbelieving breath from the back seat. “It’s my favorite.”

“Be careful,” she said as she turned onto main street. “Or I’ll get Stephano to fix that just for you.”

“You guys are joking, right?” Daisy asked suspiciously from behind them. “Sardines are fish. That doesn’t go with watermelon. And I’ve never had watermelon on pizza. It sounds gross.”

“We’re definitely joking.” Mick gave a mock shudder. “I tried sardines once in college. I still have nightmares about it. Cans of sardines are following me around on tiptoe, begging me to give them a second chance.”

“You’re funny,” Daisy informed him with the giggle Raine never got enough of hearing.

He did have a good sense of humor once a person caught on to the droll delivery. Raine was happy about that. Raine was...happy, she realized. Before he’d come breezing back into town she’d been very content. After all, she had a wonderful daughter, friends, a satisfying career...but this was different. She had to tamp down the hope that maybe Hadleigh the Wizard was right, and try to stay practical.

Even with the property and cabin he wouldn’t be around much because he was a busy man. For that matter, she was pretty busy, too. So did their lives collide in the right way?

They might.

Let’s see how he handles Dead Man’s Hill.

“We’re getting close.” She headed for the road opposite the ski slopes. “You might want to try on the boots.”

He toed off the loafers and picked up the boots she’d left on the floor on the passenger side. “I take it this will be an Olympic event of some kind. Call it a hunch.”

“Depends on the snow. There’s fast snow and slow snow.”

“You’ll have to teach me the difference.”

“One will cause a sardine-like experience and the other is just fun.”

“More nightmares?”

“Only if it’s the fast snow.”

He sent her a keen glare. “You’re deliberately trying to scare me, aren’t you?”

“Shoot, you found me out. Let’s see if you’re up for it.”

The drive was scenic by any standards, and right there it was an especially high bar. The curvy road wound up toward the mountains and was crowded by trees, and for most people that alone was harrowing. Luckily she’d driven it enough times to know just when to slow down and take it easy. Some kindly good-old boy had plowed one lane with the blade on his truck and she hoped they wouldn’t meet a car coming the other direction, but otherwise the climb was breathtaking. They parked at a scenic outlook the state had put there years ago, and turned to Mick. “Here’s the hard part. It’s easy to walk to the hill, but we have to hike back up towing the toboggans.”

“It seems to me you’ve done this before, so we can certainly handle it together. I don’t really see a hill though.”

She sent him a mischievous grin. “You will.”





12

THE WOMAN WAS trying to kill him.

That wasn’t a hill. That was a champion alpine slope. Mick pointed at the bottom. “There’s a stream down there.”

Raine was blasé about that observation, looking absurdly attractive in earmuffs and a scarf. “You’re going so fast and with the angle you sail over it, that’s part of the fun.”

“Uh, I think I weigh a little more than you do.”

“No problem. I’ve seen Drake, Slater and Mace float right over it. Just brace yourself.”

“Is this some kind of Grand Teton test?” He hefted the biggest toboggan off the roof.

She flashed a mischievous grin. “Trial by fire.”

“I’m going to trust you.”

“I think we’ve already trusted each other quite a bit.”

She certainly had a point there. They had. She’d slept in his arms and he wanted a repeat performance in the worst way.

Daisy had bounced out of the car and was impatiently waiting. Samson seemed equally trusting this wasn’t a suicide mission and was gamboling in the snow, so Mick had no choice but to take it on faith as well.

That was one hell of a steep mini-mountain. It looked neck-break worthy. “People have survived this?” he asked dubiously.

“You’re looking at some of them right here.”

“How many dead bodies buried at the bottom of Dead Man’s Hill?”

“Hard to say. Headstones are covered with snow. You gonna chicken out?”

“Never.” He wasn’t about to give up that kind of dare. “Promise me a night together if we both survive?”

“Deal.” Her hazel eyes held a teasing light.

“I’ll risk anything for that.”

“Then hop on for the ride of your life.”