by Lisa Carter
“I do.” She nodded. “We were going to Aspen. I don’t ski, but Scott is an avid skier.”
“Scott?” Jonas growled.
At his voice, she angled.
Standing next to the long dining-room table, his lips twisted. “Your fiancé’s name is Scott?”
“Was.” She blinked. “I mean, of course, his name is still Scott.” Why did she always get so flustered with Jonas Stone? “Scott isn’t my fiancé anymore.” She sighed. “But you know that.”
“So let me get this straight. You don’t ski, but you were going to spend your honeymoon on the slopes because your ex-fiancé liked to ski.” Jonas’s brown eyes darkened. “Why didn’t this Scott person choose a place you’d both enjoy?”
“I didn’t mind. Truly.” She shrugged. “I was going to catch up on my reading. Work on future blog posts. That sort of thing.”
Jonas glared at her. “While your ex-fiancé was out enjoying himself? Leaving you alone on your honeymoon?”
Put that way, he made her sound like a perfect idiot. Not a news flash. Only an idiot got herself stranded on a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm in a wedding dress.
She was further irritated—at herself—that his opinion mattered so much.
“AnnaBef!” Hunter shouted from the mudroom.
“Coming,” she called. Moving to the stairs, she gave Jonas and his mother a small smile.
“I’ll just go get my boots and coat.”
* * *
Jonas watched her climb the stairs.
His mother pursed her lips. “Must you bark at her, son?”
Jonas scrubbed his hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to sound so gruff. But what kind of groom...?” He gritted his teeth.
His mother patted his shoulder. “The same kind who would leave AnnaBeth at the altar.” She glanced at the staircase. “Although, I get the feeling there’s more to that story than she’s said.”
Jonas lifted his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. “It makes me crazy to see her allow someone to run roughshod over her feelings.”
“She’s a people-pleaser, Jonas. You retreat. And she goes out of her way to appease.” His mother flicked her eyes at him. “Seems to me a healthier response lies somewhere in the middle.”
Resettling his hat, he decided to ignore her last remark. “AnnaBeth is going to have to toughen up, or she isn’t going to make it in the cold, cruel world.” Scowling, he rubbed the back of his neck, working out the kinks with his hand. “She’s not our responsibility, Mom. Don’t get too attached.”
“Why do I feel you’re really talking to yourself?” His mother quirked an eyebrow at him. “There’s an old saying that once you save a person’s life, you remain forever connected to them.”
His heart seized. Connected to AnnaBeth Cummings for life?
“Was there something you needed, Jonas?”
He blinked at his mother.
“The reason you came back inside the house?”
“I—I...”
Why had he come inside the house? Oh, yeah. To see what AnnaBeth was doing.
Jonas scowled. “I was going to call Zach again. Get an update on the snow plows’s progress.”
His mother folded her arms. “Do tell why you’re so anxious to be rid of our houseguest, son.”
Jonas rocked back. “Once Zach fixes her car, she can be someone else’s problem.”
His mother’s lips tightened. “Jonas...”
At a sudden creak, he glanced up at the landing and discovered AnnaBeth staring down at them.
She wore a pink puffy ski jacket, a dark pink knit cap and matching scarf. From the forward thrust of her chin, he suspected she’d heard every word he said.
Face-to-face with AnnaBeth Cummings in all her perky winter glory, he fled to the refuge of the barn. Where he buried himself in a flurry of work. Mucking out the horse stalls. Stacking bales on the flatbed trailer behind the hay barn.
He’d make a trip out to the far pasture to feed the horses this afternoon. Hunter liked feeding the herd. His son’s laughter floated into the barn. Venturing around the corner, he gazed out at a scene that caused his heart to catch.
Romping through the snow, Hunter tossed a snowball at AnnaBeth. Squealing, she ducked a fraction too late. Hunter had a pretty good arm for a preschooler. For such a little guy, he could be laser-focused when he had a goal. Not unlike his father.
Although, Jonas’s days on the rodeo circuit were best forgotten. He’d fallen away from his faith and gotten involved with Kasey. Neither of which had turned out well for him.
His son’s laughter rippled across the distance, even after AnnaBeth pelted him with a snowball of her own. Despite his failed marriage, Jonas would go through the pain all over again if it meant having his son in his life.
Jonas needed to apologize to AnnaBeth. It wasn’t like him to be rude. But something about the woman...
Pushing off from the barn, he headed toward his son and the flatlander.
“Dad!” Hunter yelled, catching sight of him. “I taught AnnaBeth how to make snow angels. Can you bee-weave she’s never made snow angels?”
She dropped her eyes to her expensive leather boots. “Winter storms usually only bring ice to Charlotte.”
“Not so good for snow angels,” he rasped.
She looked at him. “No. Not so good for snow angels.”
He held her gaze. “But I’m sure Charlotte offers charms of its own.”
Pink flooded her cheeks. “If you say so.”
Energy on wheels, his son giddy-upped around them as if on an imaginary horse.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for what I said earlier.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it sounded.”
“Dad, let’s make snow angels.” Hunter jumped up and down. “You, too.”
He pushed up the brim of his hat. “Uh... I don’t know, Hunter. It’s been a long time since I had time to make snow angels.”
“AnnaBef and I can teach you, can’t we, AnnaBef?” He touched his father’s coat sleeve. “Pwease? It’s easy.”
“Okay.” No longer able to resist joining in the fun, Jonas smiled at his son’s upturned face. “What do I do first?”
“Sit down in de snow. Wike dis.” Hunter plopped his bottom onto the ground. “Show him.”
Crouching slightly, she fell backward onto her backside. “Your turn, Jonas...”
After depositing his hat onto a nearby stump, he eased onto the snow between her and his son. “Now what?”
Hunter waved his hand as if guiding a reversing pickup. “Awe de way, Dad...”
Stretching out flat on his back, Jonas found himself gazing at the picture-perfect blue sky.
“Move your awms and wegs, Dad.”
Just to be silly, he raised his arms and legs straight up in the air and flapped them.
AnnaBeth laughed. He almost smiled before he caught himself.
“No, Dad. Wike dis. Jumping jacks in the snow. Watch me.”
Hunter proceeded to sweep the snow with his small limbs.
She smiled. “You’re the best snow-angel maker I’ve ever seen, Hunter.”
Hunter’s chin bobbed. “I’m also good at building snowmen. And woping. And...”
AnnaBeth turned her head toward Jonas. “I love his confidence. You’ve done a great job raising him.”
Something long numb inside Jonas’s heart warmed. “Thank you. It hasn’t been easy, but God never failed me.”
God had provided everything they’d needed—a strong support network with his mom, friends and, yes, even the pesky Truelove troublemakers. Everything they needed, except a wife and a mother.
Gazing into the deep green of AnnaBeth’s eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if God might intend more for him and Hunter th
is Christmas than he’d ever imagined possible.
His heart leaped in his chest.
All because of a runaway bride who somehow ran into their path one snowy night.
* * *
Lying beside her in the snow, Jonas’s dark eyes grew distant. AnnaBeth wasn’t sure why.
He’d seemed so happy a moment ago. But it was like he didn’t believe he deserved to be happy. And so, emotionally, he’d just shut down.
“Dad!” Hunter jumped up from the snow. “Dad, you’re not making a snow angel.”
Jonas jolted, as if returning from a place or time long distant. Maybe from whatever happened between him and Hunter’s mom.
Since childhood, AnnaBeth had believed it was her job to make sure everyone was happy. So she felt compelled to bring Jonas back to the joy of the moment. To Hunter. To her.
Not to you, AnnaBeth. Don’t be stupid.
She cleared her throat. “Hunter and I found it enormously helpful in the creative process of snow-angel making to sing.”
Jonas turned his face to her. “Creative process of snow-angel making...” His lips quirked. “Such a natural gift with words. No wonder you write that blog thing.”
She rolled her eyes, as he’d no doubt meant her to, but she now had his attention. “Sing, Jonas.”
A slight crease puckered his forehead. “You want me to sing?” He nearly smiled.
“You’re a cowboy. So sing.”
Another near miss on that smile of his... So close but almost only counted with horseshoes. Not with handsome cowboys.
“What do you want me to sing?”
Hunter loomed over them. “It’s Chwistmas. Sing ‘Jingle Bells,’ ev-wee-body.”
“Good idea.” Her lips parted. “‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle—’” She jabbed his bicep. “You’re not singing, Jonas.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Hunter planted his fists on his jeans. “You’re not singing.”
A corner of Jonas’s mouth tugged upward. “But I don’t sing.”
Not a full-blown smile, but it was progress.
“Why not?” She rested her cheek against the snow.
“Trust me, it’s better this way. Your ears wouldn’t appreciate my efforts.”
“You let me be the judge of that, Jonas Stone. You have to sing. For the best results, you must enter into the spirit of snow-angel making.”
“Fine.” He blew out a breath. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh, and at the same time you’re singing, Jonas, don’t forget to do those jumping jacks with your arms and legs in the snow. Got it?”
“Got it.” He took a lungful of clean mountain air. “Jingle bells...”
She smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. “Jingle bells, jingle all the way...”
“Oh what fun,” Hunter interjected.
She laughed.
“It is to sing—” wind-milling his arms and legs, Jonas joined him “—on a one-horse. Open. Sleigh.” They finished with a flourish.
Hunter clapped his mittens together. “Dat was awesome, Dad.”
Jonas stuck his tongue in his cheek. “I told you it would be bad, AnnaBeth.”
“You have a nice voice. A bit rusty but nothing a little exercise wouldn’t cure.”
“Says the woman who gives her voice a fair amount of exercise.” But he smiled as he said it, taking the sting out of his words.
AnnaBeth fluttered her lashes at him. “True.”
“What’s next?” he asked.
“Here’s the tricky part. Getting up without ruining your masterpiece.” Pushing upright, she propelled herself onto her feet. And offered him her hand.
Sitting up, he took hold of her gloved hand. Bracing herself, with her boots slightly apart, she pulled him to his feet.
“And there you are.” She drew his attention to the imprint he’d left behind in the snow. “A beautiful Christmas angel.”
Hunter inserted his small self between their bodies. “Dad’s awe handsome.” He hugged her leg. “AnnaBefs awe boo-ti-full.”
Leaning, she planted a quick kiss on his red knit cap. “You keep saying things like that, and you’ll never get rid of me, Hunter.”
He hung onto her arm. “I never want you to weave, AnnaBef. I want you to stay wif me fo-wever.”
Jonas’s brow creased. “AnnaBeth has her own life, Hunt. She has her own family. Her own friends.”
Hunter shook his head. “We can be her famiwee, Dad. You can be AnnaBef’s fwend. Wight?”
Jonas gave his son a halfhearted shrug. “Sure. You, Gramma, me. We can all be friends with AnnaBeth.”
Except she felt anything but friendliness coming from him. Moments earlier, he’d appeared to be having such a good time with them.
Perhaps only a good time with his son. Her heart pricked. Why didn’t Jonas like her? Most people liked her. People loved having her as a friend.
Friend, yes. As a girlfriend? Not so much.
Hunter tugged her hand. Though his father was determined to keep her at arm’s length, at least the little cowboy liked her. “I want to wope my steer.”
Jonas retrieved his hat. “The driveway’s not going to clear itself. I’d better get back to it.”
He walked away toward the barn, and she told herself it didn’t matter. Give or take another few days at most, Jonas would never have to bother speaking to her again.
All for the best. The FieldStone was his world. And hers? To Be Determined.
It shouldn’t matter so much that he didn’t want to be her friend. She watched the broad outline of his shoulders until he disappeared into the barn.
Shouldn’t matter. But somehow it did.
Chapter Six
After promising to create snow people later, AnnaBeth finally convinced Hunter to come inside the house to eat lunch.
“Slow down, Hunter. You don’t have to inhale it all in one gulp.” Deirdre set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of AnnaBeth at the kitchen table. “And you’ve been a trouper hanging out in the freezing cold with Hunter all morning.”
AnnaBeth liked the sunny kitchen at the lodge. The stainless-steel appliances of the commercial kitchen were coupled with weathered white cabinets. Yet the red-checkered curtains and the rooster-topped island gave off a warm, inviting feel. Even style-maven Victoria would’ve approved.
Hunter paused between slurps. “We’re going to make snow people next, Gwam-ma.”
In a rush of cold air, Jonas came inside the house. “Don’t you think you ought to give AnnaBeth a chance to dethaw before you go outside again, Hunt?” After shedding his coat and gloves, he toed out of his work boots, leaving them at the door. “Maybe she has things to do this afternoon.”
He hung his coat on the peg, then padded into the kitchen. The socks were identical to the socks Hunter had given her to wear last night. And the socks gave her an idea for a post and photo.
Thinking she’d be on her honeymoon, AnnaBeth had prescheduled this week’s posts, but it never hurt to get ahead.
“Don’t feel obligated to entertain my energetic son, AnnaBeth.” Pulling out a chair at the farm table, Jonas touched his son’s shoulder. “AnnaBeth is not your personal playmate, Hunt.”
Hunter thrust out his small jaw. “I know she’s not, Dad. ’Cause AnnaBef is my—”
“We talked about this, Hunter.”
Her eyes darted from father to son. She was missing something here. An unspoken conversation to which she wasn’t privy. She reminded herself to mind her own business.
Deirdre placed a bowl in front of Jonas and then turned away, coughing into her arm.
“Mom?” He frowned. “The cold sounds like it’s settled in your lungs.”
Deirdre waved her hand. “You know how it is this time of year with the fluctuating temperatures.” She smiled. “Las
t week was almost balmy. This week, snow.”
AnnaBeth dipped her spoon into the soup. “Welcome to North Carolina.”
His handsome lips curved. “Because if you don’t like the weather...”
She laughed. “Give it a day and it’s likely to change.”
Jonas’s gaze caught hers and held. So, so handsome and, even better, such a wonderful father and son.
It seemed to AnnaBeth that they stared at each other a long time, but it was probably only the space of a heartbeat. Yet long enough to send her heart into a stutter step. Hunter’s spoon clattering against his bowl broke the moment.
Cheeks ruddy from the outdoors, Jonas bent over his soup. Flushing, AnnaBeth concentrated on spooning the nourishing broth into her mouth.
“You’re taking something for your cough, right, Mom?”
“I’m actually running low on over-the-counter meds.” Deirdre wiped the granite countertop. “I meant to pick up something at the drugstore, but forgot.”
Jonas rested his forearms on the table. “If preschool isn’t canceled tomorrow, I’ll get some for you when I drop off Hunter.”
“Thanks, hon.” She winked at AnnaBeth. “Stranded by the snow, I guess for now we’ll have to make the most of our snow holiday.”
“Yay!” Hunter fist-pumped the air. “AnnaBef and I are going to build the world’s gweatest snow people.”
Jonas raised an eyebrow. “Hunt...”
“Sowee, Dad.” Hunter lifted his head. “What would you like to do next with me, AnnaBef?”
AnnaBeth hid her smile.
“Not exactly what I meant.” Jonas shook his head. “Maybe she wants to go to her room and take a nap, Hunt. Alone.”
“Oh.” His big brown eyes drooped. “I’m sowee, AnnaBef.”
Getting up, she came around the table and gave him a hug. “I would love to make snow people with you, sweetie pie, but let’s stay inside and warm up first. I have an idea how you could help me work on my blog, though.”
“I can help.” Hunter squared his shoulders. “I’m big.”
AnnaBeth kissed the top of his head. “You are very big. So big. The best, biggest boy ever.”