Page 118 of The Holiday Heartbreaker

He didn’t know why they had one on the ranch, only that they did. Stashed away in one of the back barns, covered by a tarp.

It was like a kids’ fantasy, so obviously—obviously—their dad had never taken them out in it even once. He’d driven it as an adult, just because, but it wasn’t something they got out routinely. Once or twice to delight some of the ranch kids, but that was it. It had been years since they’d done anything with it.

She got dressed up in that same plaid coat and some leggings and a sweater, and he put on his warmest, weathered boots, jeans, and a coat. And gloves. They had to have gloves.

Then he led her down to the barn where the sleigh was stashed.

When he uncovered it, she gasped.

“That’s like a movie,” she said, moving close to the vehicle, running her hands over some of the carvings on the ornately painted wood.

“It is. I don’t know where the hell my dad got it, because it doesn’t seem like he would own anything beautiful, but it’s been here for a long time. I imagine it predates him. It’s about the only thing that makes sense.”

“I feel like I should have an extraordinary fur coat,” she said. “Or a ball gown.”

“The fur would keep you warm. The gown, not so much.”

He went to the stalls and fetched two horses that were big and strong, well able to pull the sleigh, and Elizabeth helped him get them into their harnesses. Which did indeed have bells. He hadn’t been kidding.

They climbed into the sleigh, and he snapped the reins, moving the team forward.

And she laughed. So free and easy, and the sound did something to him. That sound that was just pure joy, with none of the worry that she so often seemed to carry. And he had done that. It was extraordinary. Knowing that. Because he had never felt like he’d made a single situation easier in all of his life. And here he was, making her laugh. It felt like something. Felt like the wind.

They took the sleigh across the snowy expanse of fields that stretched out as far as they could see, to the base of the mountain.

The sky was moody and gray, and swirls of snow began to fall all around them, Elizabeth’s nose and cheeks turning pink.

This was so different. This moment. She was carefree. And it was like... All that other stuff that stood in the way of being with her. Her baggage, Benny...

That made him feel guilty. Being Benny’s mother made up a huge part of who she was. And he was really fond of the kid. It was just... They could just have fun like this if it wasn’t for him.

You mean if it wasn’t for you. That’s the actual issue.

Well. Maybe. But it was complicated. She didn’t have any idea.

He gritted his teeth and urged the team on.

For once, she was in the moment, and he was stuck in his head. He rode her over to the end of the field, where there was a lookout point that revealed the snowy river below, the rocks on the banks capped in white, the trees lightly frosted.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “For all that I moved around all the time, my life was pretty small. Mostly, the Portland metro area. Once a little farther outside of it. I never dreamed I’d live in the country. But I wanted to. I dreamed a whole lot of things, and it took until the last few months for me to really realize that if I wanted something I was going to have to make it happen. And if it felt difficult, I was going to have to become the kind of person who could do it. I think that’s the hardest thing. Realizing that you have to change in order to have something that you want.”

He gritted his teeth. “Yeah. I mean... You really did a lot. It’s amazing.”

“So have you. You’ve all done so much. It’s incredible. The way that you banded together with your brothers to make this place possible is nothing short of incredible. Especially given the example that you had.”

“Hey. It’s not...”

“I’m serious. I get why things are hard for you with your brothers sometimes. I get why it’s difficult, but they’re wrong about you. They shouldn’t act like they know what it’s like to be you when they don’t. They might think they had it worse than you, but they didn’t... They don’t get to decide how growing up like that made you feel. I know you all love each other, but they’ve got that wrong.”

“I might agree with you,” he said. “If I wasn’t a liar.”

She looked at him, her eyes widening, and he realized that he’d gone and said it.

He hadn’t meant to. He didn’t actually want to have this conversation. He never wanted to have it with anybody. Ever.

But she was giving him something no one else ever had. She was sitting there treating him like he was one of the wounded. Like his pain was important. Like he wasn’t separate from his brothers, and she had no idea.

“A liar? About what?”

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