It was time to just sell them and move on. He realized now he’d been thinking about it for some time, even before his keen interest in this part of Wyoming had arisen. Maybe ever since he’d picked up his first Matthew Brighton novel and sat down to read.
His father would no doubt approve.
The last paragraph of the manuscript was: He was a man of action and it wasn’t in his nature to sit idly by and just let things happen. They happened on his terms and that was that.
Mick dealt with talented people on a constant basis. That was his job, to win sponsors, to create backing for plays and films like the ones Slater did so well, to decide what was innovative and new, and what wasn’t going to go over with a large viewing audience.
Now the tables had turned and he was the one sitting there on the creative edge...
Tentatively he opened a document on his computer and began to type. He was daunted, yes, but it was out of the question to not at least give it a try. Two hours later he had some words down and wasn’t displeased with the result—not that he was impressed with himself, but it had come far easier than he imagined.
He sent Raine an email. Mission Aspen Trail conclusion has begun.
It was now after midnight, and of course she typed right back immediately. You’ve been busy.
How was the meeting?
It was good. We’re all pleased with the number of applicants. The scholarship is evolving into more than we imagined. There are a lot of good students out there who deserve the chance to make their dreams come true.
A very Raine sort of sentiment. The woman who preferred to give away an expensive piece of property.
Good cause, he typed back. I’ll help, of course. You should get my mother involved.
Had he really just said that, in writing, no less?
Instantly he recanted. He loved his mother but she had a tendency to take charge and definite ideas on how things should be done. Or maybe not. She might take over.
We were talking about how we need someone to maybe run a foundation. Do you think she would?
Oh, I think you’d maybe raise a monster from the depths, but if you want meticulous management, she’s your woman. That was honest.
Monster or not, she could be just what we need.
I can obviously get you in touch with her. Can we have dinner tomorrow?
We can but I have something else in mind. Call me in the morning.
Like?
Just call. And sweet dreams.
She didn’t write anything further.
If he knew Raine she’d gone right back to work. He did the same, not returning to the manuscript but instead answering emails and checking his messages since he’d basically taken the day off. No news, no stock market updates, none of his usual routine, just moonlight on the snow and a sense of personal well-being.
He had no illusions that this was all going to be simple. Making a major change never was an easy process, but if he trusted his instincts at all, he had to accept that it was time.
* * *
Occasionally she got some pretty harebrained ideas.
Raine had to admit this could be one of them. She strapped the toboggan to the top of her SUV and Daisy clapped, her eyes shining. She was going to be taller than her mother, Raine had already figured out, taking more after Slater in that regard, and had that coltish lack of grace that would change as she matured. In any case, she was young enough to still think sledding was big fun, and maybe Raine was too, since she agreed. Samson seemed just as excited, romping through the snow.
Some kids never grew up.
Some grown-ups—namely her—just wanted to see Mick Branson rocket down a wicked hill on a toboggan. She could probably sell pictures of that. She knew the steep hill, and since she doubted he had a proper coat for this experience, had asked Slater if she could borrow one. They were very close to the same build. Of course the answer had been an amused yes once she explained why she was asking. He even said he’d love to film it, but his crew was all off on Christmas break.
“That’s what my phone is for,” she’d assured him. She could catch a short video of the urbane Mr. Branson careening down the slope if he had the fortitude to accept the challenge.
She somehow thought he would. So far he’d proven to be unshakable, even in the face of the entire Carson family, Jangles and his sneak attacks, talking to her grandmother, whipping up a dinner extraordinaire...
She’d see if those nerves of steel held up.
Red called it Dead Man’s Hill and it was certainly a wild ride. He was the first person to point her in that direction with the admonishment it was not for the faint of heart. He was right. But the snow was perfect and it wouldn’t be winter if she didn’t at least go down that hill once a week, and Daisy loved it. Mick could decline if he wanted, but she had a feeling he would be game.
Raine doubted anything tripped him up, but she had to admit she was eager to see the look on his face when he first saw that slope. If a person didn’t have a moment of doubt, then they just weren’t sensible. What they decided after they stared down that 45 degree angle and thought it was maybe a bad decision but looked like it might be really fun, well, that was up to them.
Red had wisely counseled that if you didn’t panic like a sheep that had eaten loco weed then you would be fine. Raine was uncertain how a sheep that had ingested that plant did act, but it sounded like solid advice to just enjoy the experience.
Mick pulled up, right on time as usual, and got out of his fancy rental, eyeing the contraptions strapped to the top of her car. “You’ve been out sledding?”
“No. Not yet.”
“I’m beginning to see the light. This is why you told me to wear jeans.”
“Yep,” she responded cheerfully. “Hop in. I have the right kind of coat for you and Mace offered up a spare pair of snow boots since some hiking is involved. The good news for you is you get to carry the big toboggan. Don’t worry, I have a thermos of hot cocoa.”
“It had better have some whiskey in it,” he said darkly, but gamely climbed in the passenger side on the car.
She jumped in and started the vehicle. “Has Mr. Boardroom ever been sledding?”
“Maybe when I was about thirty years younger. Are you sure my feeble body can take this?” He buckled his seat belt.
She eyed his muscular frame and broad shoulders with true appreciation. “I think you’ll survive.”
“I guess I have no choice but to find out. I’m being...what’s the expression out here in the wilds? Railroaded?”
“That’s the one.” She pulled out onto the street, which was clearing nicely after being plowed. The abundant sunshine helped, too, even though the temps were still below freezing.
Samson woofed from his spot next to Daisy in the back seat. “We’re bringing the dog?”
“He loves it. I think he can ride down the slopes with you. At the bottom you get a special bonus since he always licks your face in exuberant gratitude.”
“That takes dogsledding to an interesting level.” He looked resigned. “This just gets better all the time. I was thinking a fire and maybe a glass of wine.”
“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 fraîche.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
A Snow Country Christmas Page 11