He’s grinning as he pulls off his helmet, cheeks red from the cold. “Name’s Ryan! Heather’s cousin! She sent me up to check on you—she’s been trying to get through but says there’s no signal up here.”
The ponies scatter, startled, and the dogs race around barking their outrage at this strange, noisy intruder.
I laugh, brushing snow from my sleeves. “There isn’t. But tell her I’m fine—just snowed in.”
“Yeah, she figured. But she was worried anyway. Asked me to swing by.”
“We’re all good,” Holt says.
Ryan hesitates, one booted foot still braced on the snowmobile. “Guess you’re not alone up here after all,” he says lightly.
“No,” I say, feeling Holt’s warmth at my back. “This is Holt.”
“Right,” Ryan answers, smiling, but his gaze flicks to Holt’s size, the set of his shoulders, the faint glint of warning in those golden-brown eyes. “Good to meet you, man.”
Holt gives a curt nod. “You, too.” He extends a hand. The handshake is firm, deliberate. Ryan blinks, but manages a grin.
Ryan clears his throat and nods toward the slope behind him. “Roads are starting to clear now. If you’re ready to head down, there’s space for you at the guesthouse in town. Heather said to tell you—hot showers, decent coffee, actual power. She’ll sleep better if you’re back in civilization.”
I crook an eyebrow. “And the animals?”
Ryan reads from his phone. “The dogs and cat are welcome at the guesthouse. The parrot can fend for itself as long as you leave it enough food. And my neighbor might be willing to look after the ponies for a few days.” His gaze slides to Holt and back again.
Holt and I exchange a long look.
A slow grin breaks across his face—and it matches mine exactly.
“Thanks, Ryan,” I say. “But I’m good here. Tell Heather she can stop worrying.”
He grins, shaking his head. “Guess you mountain people know how to handle yourselves.” He tugs his helmet back on. “I’ll check in again if I come this way.”
“Thanks,” I say, at the same moment Holt says,
“No need, Bro.”
I snicker to myself. God help me, but I love his possessiveness.
The engine roars back to life. Snow whirls as Ryan turns the machine and disappears down the trail.
The dogs mill around, pleased with themselves; one noses my hand and I absently scratch behind his ears. I’m still smiling.Mountain people. I like the sound of that.
Holt slips his arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Guesthouse, huh?”
“Mm-hm. Egyptian cotton sheets. Luxury toiletries.” I rest a hand on his chest. “Tempting offer.”
“But you’re staying,” he growls, the words more statement than question.
“I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.” I look up at him, smiling, but he doesn’t return it.
He’s suddenly looking deathly serious.
His jaw works once, like he’s deciding whether to speak or swallow it down.
“Holt?” I prompt, light, teasing. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of a snowmobile.”
His gaze stays on the trail a heartbeat longer, then drops to me. The color in his eyes is darker, deeper. When he finally speaks, the words come low and rough, like they’ve been dragged over gravel.
“Why didn’t you tell him I was your mate?”
