The snow swirled all around us, and I don’t know how Braden drove or navigated. As far as I can tell, we’re in the middle of a blizzard. Several times, we lost track of the road and had to backtrack, and it was a miracle we didn’t end up stranded in the snow.
It’s still dark when we slip and slide underneath the log entry gate of Brant Falls Ranch. I slept off and on, in between doctoring my social media and wrapping gifts underneath the dome light.
“You okay back there?” Braden says. “Sun should be rising in an hour or so.”
I yawn loudly. “I could use a shower, a jumbo cup of coffee, and a massage. How did you stay awake the entire night?”
“It was dicey, but we got through before the worst of the storm,” he says, thumbing through his phone for the news. “Looks like they closed the highway we passed earlier. Now you see why I drove through the night?”
“Father knows best.” I tease him and slip out of the car.
A blast of freezing air hits me, and I hug my hands into my sleeves. My cheeks are stretched tight, and I swear my eyeballs are turning into ice balls.
Braden jumps out after me, holding a down coat with a fur-lined hood. He wraps it around me and tugs the hood over my head, shielding my face from the wicked wind.
“You’ve seriously never been in the snow before?” he asks.
“Stayed in California my whole life. The prison is the farthest north I’ve been.”
“Okay, I’ll have to go over frostbite prevention with you, but first, let’s get inside,” he says over the howling wind.
“I feel like I’m inside a snow globe.” My teeth chatter as we trudge up the pathway toward the sprawling ranch house.
Loud howling barks volley from the other side of the door before we knock or press the doorbell.
Braden puts his arm around me tighter in a protective move. “I’ve heard they have a couple of sled dogs.”
“Are they dangerous?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer, because footsteps come toward the door, and a female voice shushes the dogs.
A middle-aged woman with blazing blue eyes opens the door and exclaims, “Braden! You got through the pass.”
“That’s why I drove all night.” He opens the screen door and lets me step in first. “Jolene, this is Samantha, but we call her Sammie.”
Jolene helps me out of the coat. Her eyes narrow, and she glances back and forth between me and Braden. “Your grandfather and great-grandfather will be so happy to meet you. You are such a pretty girl.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, shrinking away from her scrutiny while two large huskies sniff me and wag their tails. “I appreciate you letting me visit.”
“We’re all family,” she says. “You must be tired and hungry. Would you like breakfast? I didn’t expect you guys so early, so let me show you to your room, and then I’ll get something on the stove.”
“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” I stammer, because her perceptive eyes are still comparing me to Braden.
“Let me unload the car,” Braden says.
We exchange a worried glance, before he slips outside, followed by the dogs.
“Come along,” Jolene says. “It’s going to be a full house, so I hope you and your dad don’t mind sharing a room.”
“We’re good.” I follow her through the rambling ranch house.
“I don’t know how much your dad told you about us, but we’re kind of like the Brady Bunch.”
“Brady Bunch? I thought you’re Brants.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forget how young you are.” She giggles, covering her mouth. “There’s an old TV show where a widower marries a widow, and the widower has three boys and the widow has three girls. Did your father tell you about his brothers and stepsisters?”
“Not really. He doesn’t much talk about family. I live with my mom, and I don’t see him often because he’s so busy.”
