She chuckled. “It’s Christmas, so there’s plenty of both.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms, smiling at the man who’d been at Snowberry Lodge for a month now, and spent plenty of time in here casually visiting her. She never minded, though.
“Actually,” he said, “I came to deliver a Christmas present for the lodge.”
Her brows lifted. “Really? You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, I’ve become a fixture here and I know you’ve turned down some would-be guests who would like my very nice mountain-view cabin.”
“You’re not staying here forfree,” she reminded him on a laugh, knowing he was paying top Park City dollar for that cabin.
He lifted a shoulder, the smallest flicker of mischief crossing his face. “But I have a gift. For you. And Cindy. And…the lodge.”
“Okay.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Cindy and Jack are in the living room?—”
“No, I’m right here,” Cindy called, coming down the hall. “We need more cocoa and Jack’s stoking the fire—” She slowed and smiled at their guest. “Hello, Matt.”
“He has a present for us,” MJ blurted, oddly excited at the idea, even though it was probably a vase or a picture or some token for the lodge.
“For us?” Cindy brushed some of her pale blond hair over her shoulder, a glint in her blue eyes that MJ hadn’t seen since…well, since before the divorce that never should have happened. “That was so kind of you, Matt.”
“Then let’s step outside,” he said. “Grab a coat.”
MJ and Cindy shared a look of anticipation and surprise, grabbing their jackets and sliding into their respective boots lined up under the mudroom bench.
He waited at the door like a gentleman, his soft brown eyes downright merry.
MJ liked a man who enjoyed giving a gift. It said something about his generous heart and a kind desire to see others happy. George had been like that, she mused as they stepped outside.
The night air stung MJ’s face, cold and clean, spiced with pine from the dozens of well-lit evergreens that filled the property.
“It’s in the front,” he said, leading them that way, past the sleigh and the ski shed, to the main entrance of the lodge.
The porch lights threw soft halos on the snow-covered drive. Down the hill, a set of taillights winked as a large delivery truck returned to the main road.
“I didn’t hear a truck,” MJ said under her breath, a frown forming as she followed Matt.
“What…” Cindy gasped, eyes narrowing as they tracked to the long, low shape just beyond the end of the front steps. A tarp lay in a neat spill beside it, abandoned like a coat dropped in an eager moment. “Is that…”
MJ didn’t need a second look. She recognized the silhouette. A laugh started somewhere in her chest. “No.”
“Yes,” Matt said, grinning with excitement and relief, as if keeping a secret all day had been painful.
“No!” MJ repeated, not quite able to process that she was looking at a brand-new, state-of-the-art, utterly spectacularsnowmobile.
Oh, no, this was not the battered old beast they’d tried to coax through last winter—it died a tragic death in March.
This was not the second-, third-, or fourth-hand salvage Red swore he could fix with a wrench and a prayer.
This was glossy and muscular, with a wide track meant to float over whatever Mother Nature threw at them, two seats with backing, a cargo rack, all shiny and perfect and new.
This was a snowmobile that no one at Snowberry Lodge could afford…but, obviously, Matt Walker could.
She put a hand to her mouth. “Matt,” she said, and then said it again because the first time didn’t do the job. “Matt.”
He smiled down at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a man who’d done a good thing and wanted to fist pump but was too humble to do so.
“You said last week you used to have one,” he reminded her. “And when Benny and Red got into that jam in the meadow, youtold me the UTV had a rough time on the snow and ice, as would be expected. So…”
