Chapter One

Cam

T hree days before another lonely Christmas, I discovered a baby’s cry was unmistakable.

Carried on the bitter wind, the faint squall jolted me out of a daydream. Bonnie snorted and side-stepped, and I rubbed her chestnut mane as I leaned forward in the saddle.

What the holy hell?

I strained to listen, squinting beyond my herd of shaggy-haired yaks, who briefly lifted their wide heads at the sound before returning to business as usual. They chewed the long, yellowed grass poking up out of the thin layer of snow, their stony expressions and curved horns making them look a damn sight fiercer than they were.

Had the cry come from over toward the mountains? Noises loved to play tricks near the Rockies. I peered into the distance. Across the rolling, snow-dusted fields, beyond dense pine trees peppering the foothills, the white-capped peaks were hidden behind ominous gray clouds. More snow was coming.

A lot more.

I could taste the moisture in the air. Smell it. Feel it in my bones like truth, as dramatic as that sounded. But I knew . Though still below freezing, I’d been able to leave my woolen toque at home and wear my favorite black Stetson. The temperature had risen enough that instead of crystallized snot, there was wetness inside my nose when I inhaled.

A blizzard was coming.

Cocking my head, I listened. There was only Bonnie’s snuffling breath and the whistling wind. After pulling off one of my work gloves, I scratched at my short beard.

“Losing my mind,” I muttered.

When I glanced over my shoulder at where Toby had run off a minute before, he was tensed and staring into the distance. Was he chasing a hare like usual? The spotted mutt barked once sharply.

A baby wailed.

Heart thumping, I wheeled Bonnie with a nudge of my boot, urging her into a trot to follow Toby, who raced down a slope and up the other side. The terrain here was rocky, and I didn’t push Bonnie to go faster even though something was very wrong.

There was nothing down this way except a creek and old Coyote Trail. Yet as we came up over the rise, the cries grew louder, shriller, and absolutely undeniable.

That was a baby.

And the blot of red on the landscape sticking out like a sore thumb was a car.

I automatically reined in Bonnie. It was plain wrong to see a car on this land. But there it was—a small Ford, maybe? Cherry red and stopped at the side of the abandoned dirt road that everyone had called Coyote Trail. If I’d ever known why it had that name, I couldn’t remember now.

The thin layer of snow showed the car’s tire tracks. Even if it hadn’t stopped here, it wouldn’t have gotten much farther. The afternoon was growing darker by the minute. The sun set by four-thirty this time of year, and the approaching storm sure as shit wasn’t helping.

Bonnie stamped her hooves, and I rubbed her tense neck. “Shh. I know. We’re going home real soon.”

Toby had stopped too, glancing anxiously between me and the car. There was a tall figure pacing on the other side of the vehicle, bouncing a bundle that had to be the crying baby.

Coyote Trail wasn’t marked and had only ever been known to locals—who also knew better than to try it now.

What damn fool would come down here with darkness and a storm closing in? With a baby ?

I was mighty tempted to turn tail and leave him to it. I’d been looking forward to a quiet night by the fire with my book in one hand and petting Toby with the other. I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to deal with…whatever this was.

The baby screeched louder as if hearing my selfish thoughts, and I shifted in the saddle with a hot stab of prickly guilt. I’d never actually leave anyone stranded, let alone a child. Maybe they weren’t stranded at all—though they would be soon if they didn’t retreat back to the highway.

Nudging my heels and clucking my tongue, I got Bonnie moving. Toby raced ahead with a bark, and the man in the distance spun around and waved frantically. I lifted an arm in response.

The stranger—wearing a dark parka, a red woolen toque, and a gray scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face—hurried around the hatchback. “Thank God!”

He still held the crying baby, which was so bundled it was only a lump in a puffy yellow snowsuit and a thick blue scarf. Dark jeans clung to the guy’s lean legs.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked, none too friendly.

“I was taking the shortcut into Lonely Creek.” His low voice was muffled by his scarf, only his thick-lashed brown eyes visible between the scarf and hat. “Trying to beat this storm.” Fat snowflakes began to fall on cue, and he looked up, those pretty eyes narrowed. “Might’ve made it if the engine hadn’t conked out at the worst possible time.”

“Nope. Rockslide cut off Coyote Trail.” How did he even know it had existed? I added, “Maybe ten years back.”

The man groaned. “Fuuu—” He was patting the squirming baby hidden against his chest through the layers of winter gear, and he glanced down at it. “ Fudge. Do you have a signal? I don’t have any bars.”

I had to laugh. Heartily. “No service out here.” My cell phone sat in a drawer except for when I went into town or Lethbridge.

He groaned again. “Look, I’m really sorry to put you out, but could you give us a lift to town?” He added, “Lonely Creek,” as if there were anything else around. Aside from the ski resorts up in the mountains, Lonely Creek was it.

Staying upright with the baby, he bent his knees awkwardly to pet Toby, who nudged him enthusiastically, tail wagging. Toby hardly ever met new people.

“My truck’s out by the big house,” I said. In only a minute, the snow was already falling more thickly, and the mountains had disappeared in a blink behind a curtain of white. “We’ve got to get inside.”

I glanced in the direction of the two-lane highway, which was even farther and not busy at the best of times. It was way too far, and we’d have to flag down a passing vehicle. Even on a sunny summer day, it wouldn’t be a great plan. It was a terrible one now, as much as I wanted to resolve this.

“You’re positive the engine’s toast?” I asked.

The guy nodded. “But I’m no expert, so please take a look if you can. The dealer promised this car had plenty of years left in it. It’s only been a week.”

He bounced the fussing baby as he walked back and forth, work boots crunching on the rocky side of the old road. Something about him seemed strangely familiar, but I pushed it aside. The clock was ticking.

I hopped down from Bonnie, who snorted disapprovingly but stayed put. Glad for my long leather duster as the wind whipped, I lifted the car’s hood with a creak and peered inside. I knew a bit about engines—enough to know this one was beyond me even if I’d had tools in my saddlebag. I couldn’t see anything glaring, so I closed the lid with a thud.

There was no other option. “We have to ride back to my cabin.” I mentally said goodbye to my peaceful night. More than that, I hadn’t had guests in…ever. Let alone a baby .

The man stared at Bonnie, who nosed at the ground. She was a tall sorrel horse, and though I wouldn’t normally put two grown men on her back, we didn’t have a choice. With darkness and snow closing in, it would take too long for me to ride back for my ATV. Besides, I trusted Bonnie’s surefootedness more than the machine’s.

Bonnie lifted her head, the fresh snow already blanketing her twitching ears, matching the white splotches on her face. I scratched her neck and murmured, “Sorry about this. It won’t be for long.” Louder, I asked the stranger, “Have you ridden before?”

The baby, who’d thankfully stopped screaming, gurgled unhappily. He patted her bundled back with his gloved hand and peered at Bonnie. “Yeah, years ago. But it’s not safe for her.”

“Bonnie’s solid. She can handle the weight for a short distance.” I glanced up at the gunmetal sky. We had to get the hell moving.

“I meant my daughter.”

Oh. Right. I squinted at the yellow lump. I could understand not wanting to take a baby on a horse. “We’ll go slowly, but we’ve got to go.”

The stranger eyed Bonnie warily but nodded. “What about all our stuff?”

“Just bring the necessities. The rest isn’t going anywhere. No one comes down here.”

“Okay. God, I’m such an idiot.”

I wasn’t about to argue, but I stayed silent and didn’t pile on either. Neither of us could turn back time and change his terrible choice to leave the highway.

I paced while he put the baby into her car seat in the back of the hatchback—then pulled out bag after bag after bag. Christ, how did one tiny human need so much stuff ?

I cleared my throat. “You’re going to have to get that down to one bag.”

“Um…” The man opened the jam-packed trunk area. He rooted around, coming out with a Toronto Blue Jays duffel. “If I put everything in here, does that work?”

“It’ll have to.” I removed Bonnie’s saddlebag and saddle, keeping the bridle in place and feeding her a frosty apple from my pocket. “I’m going to leave these in your car.”

He blinked at me. “We’re going to ride without a saddle? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s better for Bonnie. We can’t both fit in the saddle, and if I ride behind it, it’ll be a lot of weight on her kidneys.” I squeezed it onto the driver’s seat since it was the only empty space remaining in the car.

As I watched the guy shove diapers, bottles of formula, and jars of baby food into the Jays duffel, the earlier tug of recognition reared up and gave me a vicious kick. I sucked in a harsh breath.

Those thick-lashed brown eyes. Baseball. Long legs. Standing over six feet. Someone who knew old Coyote Trail existed.

No.

Impossible.

Hell no.

“Jake Gregson?” I accused, sharp as a blade.

Jerking upright from where he leaned into the back seat, he thumped his head on the rim of the doorway and yanked down his scarf.

This man wasn’t a stranger after all. I knew the rotten core beneath that pretty face all too well.

Aside from facial scruff over his pale, smooth skin, the strong jaw and full mouth were the same. I hadn’t let myself think about Jake Gregson in a long, long time, but face-to-face with him after—what, thirteen, fourteen years?—it all flooded back.

Desire. Idol worship. Betrayal. Shame. Fury. Hurt.

The hurt could still steal my breath after all this time, and I hated that more than I could stand. I also hated that the bastard was even hotter in his early thirties than he’d been as a teenager. And he was here , invading my land and my life.

I had no choice but to deal with it. I couldn’t abandon him and the baby to freeze. Where was the mother? The front passenger seat was stacked with boxes.

“Do I know you?” Jake asked. He peered closely at me. “I haven’t been home in forever. Sorry, man. I’m blanking.”

That shouldn’t have twisted my guts. I shouldn’t have cared. Of course he didn’t remember. I’d been nothing to Jake Gregson. Never had been, never would be.

“Don’t strain yourself.” I kept my voice gruff and steady, because I’d let him know he could still hurt me over my dead, rotting corpse. “Cam Walsh.”

He jerked like he’d been slapped before going very still. “Is that a joke? It’s not funny.”

I barked out a laugh. “Well, I was a joke to you. But no. I’m Cam Walsh.”

Jake jutted his chin forward, cocoa eyes wide and jaw dropping. “ Cam? But you were tiny.” He waved his hand up and down to indicate my body. “And now you’re—” He gaped.

I could admit I’d enjoyed reactions like this the rare times over the years that I’d run into someone from high school. Since my days were usually spent with Bonnie, Toby, and my yaks, it hadn’t been often.

But I didn’t puff up my broad chest and give him a wink like I had Madison Massey when she’d hit on me in the feed store in Lethbridge without recognizing me as the kid she and her friends had jeered at.

As I stared him down, Jake sputtered and shook his head. “Seriously? Cam? ”

Then the weirdest thing in an already bizarre day happened: His face brightened with a smile.

He had no damn right.

But my stupid, stupid heart still stuttered in the face of Jake Gregson’s gleaming teeth, the creases in his cheeks, and the crinkle of his eyes. Shit, the way I’d once treasured every single smile he’d granted me.

It’d been pathetic then. Now? My skin went hot with rage at my reaction.

The smile vanished as he snapped his mouth shut and swallowed thickly. “Um… Hey, man.”

We stared at each other in silence, the snow falling thickly. Toby bounded to my side, looking between us with a confused little whine. In the back seat, the baby fussed with soft cries that would probably be screams again soon.

“Wow,” Jake said, having the nerve to laugh. “You look so different. You’re huge!”

I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “I was a late bloomer.”

Jake had been the tall, buff guy back then. I couldn’t get a good look at his muscles now under the parka, but at six-three, I was a couple of inches taller. It was a petty victory, but I’d take it.

“Ready?” I asked coldly.

“Um, I think so.” Jake eased the baby from her car seat and examined Bonnie. “You’re sure it’s safe?”

Not answering, I grabbed the duffel and returned to Bonnie, taking hold of the reins. “You get up first.”

“Right.” Jake glanced around as if he was hoping for a last-minute save from anyone else. But it was just us for miles with snow and dark falling fast. “Wait, I’ll get the carrier.” He shifted the baby and awkwardly searched in the back seat with his barely free hand. “Can you take her for a sec?”

I didn’t know shit about babies unless they were cows, yaks, horses, or goats. I dropped the crammed duffel and reluctantly reached for the squirming bundle. A delicate little face with big brown eyes peeked out from thick layers of wool and padding. She looked impossibly tiny to have that much lung power.

I’d once nursed the runt of Mrs. Pinter’s goat litter, feeding him with a bottle and keeping him warm when he was abandoned. Animals were easy. This was a human, and humans were nothing if not complicated as hell.

“This is Cora.” Jake was still holding on to her even though I had her securely under the arms of her snowsuit.

I said, “Uh-huh,” because it seemed like he was waiting for me to respond.

He was still holding on. “I’ve got her,” I said.

Frowning, Jake let go just long enough to yank out a harness thing before locking the door with an electronic beep. The car looked so old I was surprised it didn’t require an actual key to lock.

As he strapped the harness to his chest, I held the baby uneasily. From under her toque and hood, she blinked at me with those huge, serious eyes, her thick lashes like her father’s. I gingerly swung her back and forth. Babies liked motion, right?

Please don’t cry again.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Jake took her back, buckling her securely against his chest facing him. Jake murmured, “We’re okay. We’re going to ride on a horsey! Yeah, we are.” He glanced at me and dropped the light, singsong tone, his cheeks flushing red. “So, how do we…”

Dropping to one knee, I held out my gloved hands as a stirrup and ordered, “Put your boot in my hands. You’re going to hold on to Bonnie’s mane just before her withers.” I glanced up to find him staring between me and Bonnie with an anxious frown.

Standing impatiently, I put his hand on the right spot before dropping back down. Jake still hesitated. I snapped, “Or you can freeze out here.”

I braced for his weight. It was awkward with the baby strapped to him, but Jake raised himself over Bonnie, who obediently stayed still. I passed up the duffel, and Jake held it over his lap. “Scoot as far forward as you can,” I said, before grasping Bonnie’s mane myself. I reached behind Jake and over his thigh, brushing against him. “Brace yourself. I need to hold on to you.”

I hadn’t ridden bareback in ages. When I’d been a skinny kid, hopping up onto a horse had been a hell of a lot easier. I hesitated, glancing up at the darkening sky, snowflakes catching on my beard. We had to move, and I prayed I wouldn’t end up flat on my face.

Bending my knees, I did a little skip-hop and threw my leg over Bonnie’s back, holding her mane with one hand and gripping Jake’s hip with the other as I pulled myself up behind. Bonnie remained steady, and I murmured, “Good girl,” as I leaned around Jake to rub her neck.

There were no two ways about it: Jake was between my legs with my junk shoved against his ass. I had to reach an arm around him to control the reins. I let my left hand hang at my side, or else I’d practically be hugging him from behind.

Bonnie huffed, and I vowed to give her extra treats when we got back to the cabin. Toby was darting around, playing in the falling snow and having a grand old time as always. I urged Bonnie forward, and she picked her way up the slope and back to where the yaks grazed.

I tried very, very hard not to think about Jake Gregson’s ass.

It was beyond bizarre to have him wedged against me, Jake sitting ramrod straight and stiff, one hand clutching the duffel on his lap and the other around the baby strapped to his chest. He smelled like sweat with a faint hint of…rose?

I could barely concentrate, my mind spinning, but Bonnie knew the way. We passed the yaks, who grunted and ignored Toby as he darted among them.

Jake said, “Those are weird-looking cows.”

“That’s because they’re yaks. Humps. Horns. Shaggy coats.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Toby! Leave them be!” I called. Snow stung my face as the wind gusted. “Is the baby okay?”

Jake turned his head, bumping the brim of my Stetson. “Yeah. Sleeping somehow. She’s magic like that.”

I kept my eyes on the white horizon. His face was too close to mine, and I could hear the love in his voice. It made me remember a time when praise from Jake—even an offhand comment about how he liked my boots or something—had fueled me better than a Red Bull.

He added, “Thank you. Seriously, man. You saved our lives.” He sounded completely sincere, but he’d fooled me before. I said nothing.

Jake’s breath puffed warmly over my cheek before he turned back. This had to be some messed-up dream. “Um, is it far?” He nodded to the fields in front of us, Bonnie walking at a good clip toward the cabin. She wanted back in the barn no doubt.

“A few klicks.”

“What if the horse trips on something? If I fall off, I’ll crush Cora.” His voice was suddenly tight with worry.

I clenched my jaw at the insult to Bonnie, which wasn’t really fair. I couldn’t blame him—the baby was so tiny and helpless. After a moment of hesitation, I drew my left arm around, holding the reins in both hands, pressing fully against Jake.

“I won’t let you fall,” I muttered.

Jake tentatively leaned back against me, the bulk of his body against me pleasantly warm as the wind picked up. “Thanks.”

Shit, it had been too long since I’d rubbed up against another man. If I was enjoying the feel of Jake Gregson of all people, I was clearly overdue for a trip into Lethbridge to have a few drinks and hook up with a convenient guy.

I realized as I thought back that it had been more than a year. Almost two, probably. I enjoyed getting off as much as the next person, but it had never been a priority the way it seemed to be for others.

As soon as the blizzard passed, I’d drive in for the night and find a guy. It would be a Christmas present to myself. I’d been working my ass off, and I deserved a break. First, I just needed to wait out the storm and get Jake on the road and back where he belonged.

I had no clue where that was—and I didn’t much care as long as it was far, far away from me.