Snowbound Bride-to-Be by Cara Colter Page A

this energy and love.
    “Actually, Tess and I were just getting ready to leave,” Ryder said, amazed by his own reluctance, knowing, though, that that very reluctance was telling him it was time to go. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from reminding her about the hot dogs again.
    “Were you now?”
    The man, Tim, weathered face and white hair, was kicking off his boots inside the front door. He rounded on Ryder and eyed him, taking in the pajamas and the mattress on the floor in the other room in one sweep of his gaze which was deeply and protectively suspicious.
    “We got stranded by the storm,” Ryder said, pleased by the older man’s suspicion rather than put out by it. He was happyEmma had someone this fiercely protective of her, someone to look out for her. It relieved him of a burden he had taken on without wanting to. “But we’re leaving now.”
    Tim had one of those faces Ryder could read. Loss was etched there, and yet calm, too, as if Tim had made peace with what was, didn’t even consider asking the world to take back its unfairness and cruelties.
    “You think I’d arrive on my snowmobile if the driveway was open?” the man said. “Trees all over the thing.”
    Ryder stared at him. He’d been so anxious to go he had not seen what was right in front of him.
    “You better have yourself some grub, son, and then we got us some work to do. You look like a city boy. You know how to run a chain saw?”
    Ryder wanted to protest being called son. He wanted to rail against fate keeping him here when he was desperate to get out.
    “We’ll eat in the living room,” Mona said, as if it was all decided. “It’ll be too cold in the rest of the house.”
    “Tess doesn’t like the living room.”
    But he was ignored and Tess, clearly enamored of the little girls, only cast a suspicious look at the fireplace before taking her cue from the other children and allowing herself to be put in the place of honor at the very center of the picnic blanket they were laying out on the floor.
    The basket was unpacked, and soon they were tucking into homemade bread and jam, steaming mugs of coffee.
    The magic seemed to be deepening in this place, as the two little girls fussed over Tess…and over him.
    “This is my doll,” Peggy told him, wagging a worn rag doll in his face. “Her name is Bebo.”
    “Uh, that’s an unusual name.”
    “Do you think it’s pretty?”
    It rated up there with Holiday Happenings on his ugly-name list, but he couldn’t look into that earnest face and say that. Considering it practice for when Tess would be asking him such difficult questions, he said, “I think it’s very creative.”
    Peggy frowned at him, not fooled. “I don’t know what that means.”
    “It means pretty,” he surrendered, and shot Emma a look when he heard her muffled laugh.
    The attention of the little girls made him feel awkward. Mona said to him, softly, “My husband, Tim junior, is in the Canadian Forces. The girls seem to crave male attention. I’m sorry.”
    Ryder was sorry he’d made his discomfort that visible. He was glad he was leaving as soon as the driveway was cleared. He was no replacement for a hero. Not even close. “It must be very difficult for you.”
    She lowered her voice another notch, as Tim senior left the room to check the water pipes. “It’s hardest on him. He lost his wife a while back and seems to age a year for every day Tim is gone.”
    Losses. Ryder had read the elder man’s face correctly. This family was handling their own fears and troubles.
    “Do you have power at your place?” Ryder asked, changing the subject. He tried to sound casual. In actual fact, he hoped the fresh-made bread meant the Fenshaw house had power because he would feel better if Emma went there when he left.
    “No,” Mona said. “I have a great old wood-burning stove, the kind the pioneers had. You can cook on it, it has an oven. It’s fantastic. It heats the whole house, though the house