A Snow Country Christmas (The Carsons of Mustang Creek #4)(36)

“I thought we were just negotiating for that to come later.”

She gave him the look he probably deserved for that comment. Daisy had already gotten on the smaller sled with the ease of someone who had definitely done it before. Samson had climbed on behind her and was furiously wagging his tail, a canine grin on his face, and she gave a whoop and pushed off.

“She’s going to lord it over us if they win. Hurry.”

Raine sat her very shapely behind down on the bigger toboggan and waved him on. Mick had to admit that despite having scuba dived off the Great Coral Reef and canoed on the Amazon, this had to be up in the top ten of adventurous things he’d done in his lifetime. He gamely got on behind her, wrapped his arms around her slim waist and said a small prayer she knew what she was doing.

The snow was deep enough they had a smooth trip, but they picked up speed at a blood-racing rate and he was pretty sure he didn’t need the parka she’d provided because he broke out in a sweat. Their sled was heavier with two adults so they caught up with Daisy and passed her, Raine giving her daughter a cheery wave, and when the slope flattened out, they finally came to a halt in a swoosh of snow and triumph.

Daisy arrived about two seconds later, spinning around in a circle as she too came to a halt, breathless but laughing. “Hey, that’s not fair. You had ballast.”

Mick wasn’t sure if he was more surprised she knew the word and could use it, or if he was insulted. “Big word for a small fry. And you had a little ballast yourself.”

His mistake was to point at the dog. Samson took it as an invitation to come leap all over him, his enormous snowy paws dancing with such enthusiasm Mick actually staggered backwards.

Raine didn’t quite succeed in hiding her merriment with her mitten clamped over her mouth.

Daisy was as saucy as her mother. “I may be a small fry, but at least I know how to handle a big dog.”

He burst out laughing, trying unsuccessfully to fend off the dog’s burst of affection. “You have a point there. Too bad he didn’t help you win the sledding race.”

“We’ll see what happens next. Have fun carrying that big toboggan up that hill, Mr. Branson. Come on, Samson.”

It was imposingly steep. “We have to walk up that? Maybe I should have ridden up on Samson.”

“Great cardio workout,” Raine replied without apology, handing him the rope to the toboggan. “Think about your heart.”

“I have been lately.” He gave her a meaningful look.

“Don’t do that.” Her gaze softened. “I’m already afraid I’m in too deep.”

“Why be afraid?” It was hard to believe he was standing knee-deep in snow having this conversation.

“You don’t even live close.”

“I’m considering selling both my houses and moving here. I have a cabin apparently. I’m going to build a house. Remember, you’re going to help me design it. I’ll even buy myself a parka. Talk about in deep.”

“A parka? That is deep.”

“Almost like a promise ring with weatherproof lining.”

“Those are the best kind. That way you don’t get cold fingers.”

“I thought it was cold feet.”

“What are we discussing?”

“You tell me.”

“Branson,” she said, starting to trudge up the hill—and it took some trudging; he definitely had his work cut out for him carting up that sled, “your love of talking in circles has to go. I’m sure that works well in Hollywood, but in these parts we prefer a more direct approach.”

“You want direct? I’ll give you direct. We might be too old for promise rings, but not for a more committed relationship. I’d like you to start thinking it over.”

He wasn’t quite what Red would call a straight-shooter. The kind of man who slapped down his glass on the counter and asked for more red-eye, straight up.

He was tailored slacks, a linen shirt and a persuasive voice.

Well, he had on jeans at the moment, but he looked great in them. His dark hair was every which way, thanks to Samson, and he hauled up the toboggan without missing a breath, so he clearly had more facets to him than just boardroom suaveness. If she had to label his style, she’d call it tousled elegance.

He was also the creative, sensitive man who would finish an old Western novel.

Trouble on the horizon.

She thought maybe he’d just proposed. Or suggested it anyway.

The wizard was perhaps spot-on.

Raine pointed out softly, “We’ve slept together once.”

“It was more than just sex, at least to me.”

She was instantly out of breath and it had nothing to do with the steep slope of the hill. “To me as well, but—”

“I’m bringing to the table that I have some social and historical connection to this area. I like your daughter, I even like your beastly dog and that lion of a cat.”

“This isn’t a business meeting,” she said, laughing. “Mick, we’re walking up a nearly perpendicular hill in knee-deep snow. You really don’t have to sell yourself at this moment.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know just coming down Mount Everest was a demonstration of my affection for your comely person.”

“Comely?” Her brows shot up.