Skin Deep by Pamela Clare

and Emily sledding down the little hill behind the house. Their cheeks were red with the cold, bright smiles on their faces as they trudged to the top of the hill again, dragging Nate’s old sled behind them. Megan settled onto the sled, drew Emily onto her lap—and they were off again, zooming down the hill, Emily laughing all the way.
    The old man is right. You’re whipped, West. You’re both whipped.
    Oddly, the thought put a smile on Nate’s face.
    # # #
    Megan listened while Nate read Emily a bedtime story, her daughter’s eyelids heavy, Emily’s freshly washed hair smelling sweetly of baby shampoo. It had been a thrilling day for her—horses in the morning and sledding in the afternoon. Between the excitement and the cold mountain air, she was completely frazzled. Before Nate finished the story, she had fallen sound asleep.
    Megan drew up the covers, pressed a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. She turned to Nate, spoke in a whisper. “Thank you.”
    Nate whispered back, a half-grin on his face. “My pleasure.”
    He motioned with a jerk of his head toward the door, and Megan followed, thinking they were going to join Jack around the fire. But when they got downstairs, Jack wasn’t there. And her pulse picked up, remembering what had happened last night when Jack had left them alone.
    Nate walked over to the fireplace, added a few pieces of wood to the blaze, then poured himself a drink. “Can I make you some hot cocoa?”
    Megan sat on the sofa, tucking her feet beneath her, trying not to feel nervous—or excited. “Oh, no, thank you. If I have any more chocolate, I’ll be awake all night.”
    He came and sat down beside her. “It looked like you and Emily had fun with my old sled today.”
    Nate had watched them? The idea warmed her.
    “It was Emily’s first time sledding.” And the first time Megan had gone sledding in…
    She couldn’t remember how long.
    “Really?” Nate’s eyebrows went up. “I’m glad my dad kept that old thing.”
    “That was your sled?” Megan found herself smiling, an image of Nate as a little boy sliding down that same hill in her mind.
    “Oh, yeah.”
    She listened while Nate told her how he’d once tied the sled to his horse’s saddle so that the horse could pull him through the snow.
    “I gave him a little cluck, and he started off. The rope wasn’t very long, and one of his hooves hit the sled. That spooked him. Old Cider bucked and ran, dragging me behind him.” Nate grinned, a faraway kind of smile. “It probably lasted less than a minute, but it seemed like an eternity to eight-year-old me. My old man heard the commotion and came running out. He managed to get hold of Cider’s bridle. I scrambled off the sled, untied the rope, and helped my dad get Cider back in his stall.”
    “Did you get into trouble?”
    “Oh, hell, yeah.” Nate chuckled. “My dad asked me to help him groom Cider. While I helped brush him down, my dad showed me exactly how afraid Cider had been, pointing out how the horse was still shivering, and skittish. ‘Think of all the things Cider has done for you,’ my dad said. ‘He trusts you, and today you betrayed that trust.’ I felt lower than dirt.”
    Megan couldn’t help but smile. “It must have been so wonderful to grow up with Jack as your father. He’s so kind to Emily. She just adores him.”
    “He adores her, too. She’s a special little girl.”
    “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with her, why she came to me.” Megan had only ever admitted this to Marc and Sophie. She was surprised to find herself telling Nate and wished for a moment that she could take the words back. They cut far too close to the truth about her.
    Nate’s gaze met Megan’s, his left hand sliding over hers, his fingers warm as they twined with hers. “I guess the head stork felt she needed a special mother to raise her.”
    Megan forced a smile onto her face, looked away, a clammy sense of guilt sliding through her even as some part