I cock an eyebrow. "Sugar, what do you have up your sleeve? And why do I feel like I'm in trouble?"
She bites her lip, and her cheeks flush.
I groan, muttering, "You're going to be the death of me."
She giggles and turns up the radio.
Christmas music blares through the truck, and she sings most of the way back.
I turn down several dirt roads and then get to the ranch's back gate. It's hardly ever used. I pull in front of it and park. "What now?"
Willow pulls a key out of her pocket and dangles it before me. "Duh. We unlock the gate."
I chuckle. "Okay, sugar."
She exits the Bronco, unlocks the gate, and opens it.
I drive through and stop.
She shuts the gate and puts the padlock back on before hopping back into the truck.
"No one will know we were here."
My curiosity is killing me. "And we're here because…"
She raises a brow. "Drive to Ashpost."
My pulse quickens. "The old cabin?"
"Yep."
"And what are we doing once we get there?"
She shyly smiles. "I'm giving you your Christmas present."
I stare at her blankly.
She tilts her head. "You don't want your present?"
"I didn't bring yours. I didn't know we were exchanging gifts right now."
She giggles and nudges me. "Don't worry. You can give me mine later."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Unless you don't want your gift?" She tosses me a sad expression.
"Didn't say that, sugar," I answer with a kiss to her hand, then go through the woods on the dirt path until we arrive at the one-room log cabin. It was the first house the Cartwrights ever built several generations ago. The grass is higher than it should be. The faded exterior needs a paint job. A storm blew out all the windows but the one over the kitchen sink, and Jacob boardedthat one as well, figuring it would eventually get destroyed when the next storm came.
I park the Bronco. "What now?"
"We go inside, silly."
I glance at the battered cabin, asking, "Didn't your dad say he was tearing this down?"
"It was our great-great-great-granddaddy's first home. Mom said Dad has to restore it and not rip it down," she announces.
"That's going to be hard. I agree with your dad. It's a safety hazard," I claim.
