A pleasantly plump white-haired woman—Mrs. Claus, if Marcus didn’t miss his guess—bustled into the room with a baby on one hip and a young dark-haired girl following along, hiding behind her grandmother’s leg. The children were beautiful, the spitting images of their mother.
“Oh,” the older woman exclaimed when she saw Marcus. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
Marcus grinned. “I’m here for the horses.”
“One of Sheryl’s grandsons,” Carl supplied. “Marcus, this is my wife, Eliza.”
“You’re from Oklahoma? Did you go to school with Sarah?”
Marcus’s gaze shifted to Sarah. Went to school with her? He’d dated her, for all four years of high school. He’d thought they were headed for an engagement and a wedding.
How wrong could a man be?
“I—er—yes, ma’am. We were in the same class together.” He figured it was best to stick with the broad picture. No sense bringing up the past when her husband might waltz into the room at any moment.
Awkward.
“You all settle in now. Marcus, go ahead and shuck your coat and boots at the door,” Eliza said, handing the baby to Sarah. “Coffee’s already on. I’ll grab an extra cup. I figured you’d need something to warm your innards after being out in that mess. Storm’s a brewin’.” She gestured toward the front window. Outside the wind swirled the large snowflakes both horizontally and vertically, creating a virtual whiteout. “Did you find Crash?”
“Silly reindeer was a good mile or so away, standing right in the middle of the road and blocking Marcus’s truck.”
“She wouldn’t budge,” Marcus added with a chuckle, winking at Eliza. “Good thing for me that Sarah happened along. I’ve never been face-to-face with a real live reindeer before. I didn’t know what to do with her.”
“Crash would have moved eventually, when she got hungry enough,” Sarah said.
Marcus switched his gaze to her. There was something—off—in her tone, and even holding her baby, she had her arms wrapped around herself in a universally defensive gesture. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his years as a counselor had given him a sixth sense where people’s emotions were concerned, even when they were trying to hide them.
Sarah was trying to conceal her feelings but she still sounded...down. Maybe even depressed.
His chest ached. His heart hurt for her, even if he didn’t know why. She seemed as if she had it all— a beautiful family, a Christmas tree farm. Even live reindeer. How cool was that?
A thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Was he the reason she was sad?
“I’ve been meaning to ask—what is Sheryl going to do with a couple of Percherons, anyway?” Carl queried, running a hand down the gristle on his face.
Marcus didn’t know whether to answer the question or ask two more. How did Carl and Eliza know Grandma Sheryl? And more to the point, what was this about him being here to take the Percherons?
“Wait—what? I’m not here for barrel racers? Quarter horses?”
“Quarter horses?” Eliza snorted. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not running a ranch here, son. What would a Christmas tree farm be doing with rodeo stock?”
Marcus didn’t have a clue what a Christmas tree farm would do with barrel racers, but he was equally stymied as to why Grandma Sheryl, who trained quarter horses for rodeo would buy a couple of Percherons. It didn’t make any sense.
“We use the drafts to pull the sleigh,” Eliza continued.
“Used,” Sarah corrected dully.
Now Marcus knew something was wrong, and unless he was the one causing the problem, he didn’t want to leave until he’d uncovered the reason for her misery and discovered a way he could make her smile again.
Unfortunately, that was out of his hands. He was here to pick up the horses and go—as soon as the snow let up.
Sarah slouched into a shabby olive-green armchair and shifted the baby to her shoulder. She gestured to the little girl, who was still hiding behind Eliza’s ample frame, one big dark eye peering out at him suspiciously.
It was going to take some work for him to win Sarah’s trust when she obviously didn’t want him here, but Marcus suspected he knew how to deal with the little one, who was a pint-size replica of her beautiful mother.
He crouched to the child’s level and flashed his thousand-watt smile. He knew his strengths, and his grin topped the list, or so the ladies told him, both young and old. He hoped making friends with Sarah’s daughter might be the first step in repairing his relationship with Sarah.
He reached out his hand to the preschooler. “Hey there, little lady. My name is Marcus. What’s yours?”
He held his breath as he awaited her response. The moment stretched out indefinitely as the little girl stared at him, her lips in an adorable little pout. Second only to the first time he’d asked Sarah on a date, this was maybe the most important female he’d ever wanted to impress.
“I’m Onyx, and I’m three,” she declared, holding up three fingers. She stepped out from behind her grandmother and reached for his hand, her expression as serious as her handshake. “That’s my baby sister, Jewel, my mama is holding.”
“Pleased to meet you, Onyx—and Jewel,” he said, meeting her solemn tone with one equally as earnest. “I’m an old friend of your mama’s.”
“’Kay. Granny, can I go play with Buttons now?”
Marcus had never been quite so summarily dismissed by a female before. He turned to Sarah and arched a brow, grinning crookedly. “Buttons?”
“Her rabbit.”
He’d been bested by a bunny.
* * *
Sarah couldn’t believe how quickly Marcus pulled Onyx out of her shell. The little girl had been a precocious and outgoing toddler, but after the death of her father she’d become withdrawn and suspicious about everybody and everything. No matter what Sarah did to try to coax her into meeting people and trying new things, nothing seemed to work. All Marcus had to do was grin at her and the child immediately fell subject to his charm.
Sarah couldn’t blame her. It was hard not to respond to Marcus’s natural appeal, especially because he knew what he had and how to use it. The first time he’d turned that smile upon her she’d been a goner. Her heart fluttered at the memory. But that was a long time ago. Things were different now and she was well beyond the possibility of being flattered by a handsome face and charming smile.
Marcus moved to the front window, pressing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I guess I’d better get going before the storm gets any worse.”
“What? No. You can’t go out in that!” Sarah’s heart leaped into her throat as Marcus swiveled toward her, clearly surprised at her outburst. Her exclamation had been one of sheer panic. She’d practically shouted the words. Poor Jewel gave a distressed yelp and flailed her little arms in surprise.
Heat rushed to her face as he narrowed his gaze on her, silently studying her, his jaw tight and strain rippling across his broad shoulders.
“You can’t leave yet,” she amended, consciously leveling her voice even though her pulse was hammering. “It’s not safe for you to drive in a whiteout, especially if you’re not used to this kind of weather.” She knew she still sounded flustered. How could she explain her irrational