A Snow Country Christmas (The Carsons of Mustang Creek #4)(42)
*
Maybe she’d been optimistic.
It wasn’t whiteout conditions, but it was very near, and in broad daylight it was a challenge without a road of any kind, so in the dark it was close to impossible.
Mick seemed pretty determined that the cabin be their destination though, and she sensed it had something to do with the manuscript. She was pretty good at reading people and more in tune with him than most—and Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected was wound up about something. There was tension in his shoulders and a set to his jaw that said something was certainly on his mind.
Maybe it was just that he was making some big decisions, but she didn’t think so. Mick Branson did that every single day and didn’t even blink about it. He made up his mind and sailed on that ship full-steam ahead.
“There’s a big drift by the porch,” she noted out loud. “We’ll be walking the last bit. Luckily there’s still firewood piled inside. I brought a lighter for the lantern in case all the matches are damp and you should put on those boots Mace gave you.”
“I bought some for myself, and a sleeping bag, some candles, and a fire log to get things going for our impromptu camping trip.”
No wonder he’d loaded several bags besides the food into the back of her car. She’d wondered if they were going off to safari in deepest Africa.
Snow swirled around them in ghostly forms, circling the windows, brushing the hood, occasionally obscuring the entire structure. Raine put up her hood. “I’ll go unlock that reluctant door if you’ll bring the stuff in. I’ve got the food, so don’t take too long, or it will all be gone. Just a friendly warning.”
“Consider me warned. Stephano would never forgive me if I moved too slowly to sample his latest creations.”
“The artichoke dip alone will make you weep with joy.”
“I’m going to take your word for it, and get inside as soon as possible.”
The first blast of wind hit her square in the face. She’d watched the forecast and knew it was supposed to calm down, but it about knocked her over. She scrambled for the doorway, almost forgot the bad top step, and then struggled with the key.
The door opened like magic and she practically fell inside, first because she’d braced for its usual resistance and was caught off guard by its easy surrender, then because another gust propelled her from behind.
By some miracle Raine managed to keep her balance as she stumbled in, and despite the dark, she avoided the old couch that undoubtedly had mice in it and made it to the table. The lantern helped as soon she managed to get it lit, and just then Mick came through the door like a pack mule, loaded down with everything a man could carry and maybe more.
He panted, “I thought the wind was going to die down. I think it’s getting worse.”
She watched him dump the bags on the floor. “It is supposed to calm by dawn. I think we’re spending the night right here.”
“Well then, let’s get the fire started.”
Her grandfather never would have dreamed of using anything as modern as a fire log to light that old woodstove, but then again, it was remarkably handy. Mick knelt there, dusted in snow, and the log caught with one touch of a match. She was happy to see it seemed to be venting properly because the room didn’t instantly fill with smoke.
“I brought a tablecloth from home. For all I know there’s a bear hibernating in the single closet where things like that are kept, and I’m not going to look. Clean utensils and paper plates as well, since everything gets so dusty when it isn’t used.”
Mick agreed. “Let’s not go bear hunting.”
He was a typical man and had brought candles, but nothing to put them on, so she dug out a couple of old plates, and set the table and it was...well, nice. Tablecloth, candlelight and an undeniably attractive man. What more could a girl want?
Food, for one, and maybe some heat. Fortunately, the stove was starting to take care of the temperature, and the howl of the wind outside did add to the cozy ambience.
She was even able to take off her coat as they sat down to discover what wonders Stephano had prepared for them. One sandwich consisted of watercress and smoked salmon with aioli on French bread, the other one roast beef layered with what had to be artisan cheese and served in some sort of homemade rye that had flecks of fennel, too. There was also a pasta salad with tiny shrimp and Kalamata olives, not to mention Raine’s prized artichoke dip, and to top it all off, a key lime cheesecake.
It looked delicious.
Quite the alfresco picnic. It was hardly a wild guess that food like this had never been eaten in the cabin before. “I suspect my grandfather subsisted on pemmican or something similar,” she told Mick jokingly. “He did like good whiskey and believe it or not, applesauce. There are several groves of apple trees on the property. I remember the smell of applesauce simmering on the stove from my childhood.”
“That stove has to be from the Civil War era. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It isn’t new, that I can promise you. But it works just fine.”
“I can tell, since it is warming up in here.”
The candlelight played nicely off the masculine lines of his face. If she hadn’t seen him interact with Daisy and Ryder, holding babies, laughing with Blythe and Harry, and joking with the Carson brothers, she might worry more that she was influenced by his good looks. Being her, she blurted out what she was thinking. “Don’t get all full of yourself, but you’re as handsome as this dip is delicious.”