Page 117 of Wilde Hearts

Christmas morning started with a fresh coat of snow on the ground. I’d woken up before Colt and made blueberry muffins, a breakfast quiche, and freshly squeezed orange juice. We didn’t have to be at my parents’ until nine for our Christmas breakfast with the family.

“Something smells good,” Colt said, as he tried to take a blueberry muffin.

I slapped his hand away. “That is for Christmas breakfast at my parents’ this morning. I was in charge of muffins, quiche, and OJ.”

He pouted and looked back down at the muffins.

Rolling my eyes, I said, “One, and that’s it.”

Smiling, he picked it up and took a bite. Closing his eyes, he moaned. “God, that is good—and it’s still warm!”

“I’m glad you’re dressed. Are you ready to head out?”

I glanced over to see him eyeing another muffin.

“Colt?”

Snapping out of his daze, he looked at me. “We’re leaving for your folks’ now?”

“No. Remember, I wanted to show you something.”

“That’s right. I’m ready if you are.”

“Make sure you bring a hat and gloves. We may have to walk in the snow.”

“Did it snow last night?”

“It’s still snowing.”

Shoving the rest of the muffin into his mouth, Colt walked over and grabbed his coat.

When he turned in a circle, eyes searching, I said, “They’re on the side table.”

Spotting his gloves and hat, he winked at me. “What would I do without you?”

“Pass that table six times looking for your gloves, most likely.”

He laughed as he slipped them into his coat pocket. “Are we driving?”

“Yep.”

Once we got into the truck, I told him where to head. We passed the camp and started toward the side of the ranch where the hands lived.

“Are we taking something to the guys?” Colt asked.

“Nope! There will be a left turn up here. I don’t know if the snow has covered the road yet or not.”

“Someone’s already been up and driving around,” Colt noted.

“Probably one of the ranch hands. I can’t remember who’s working today.” I pointed. “There—right there, see it?”

“Yep, I see it.”

He turned left and we drove a mile down before I spotted the next road. “Turn to the right.”

“Where are we going, Pip?”

Smiling, I said, “You’ll see.”