April didn’t need another check in the rearview mirror. She could feel Ranie glaring at her from the backseat, every ounce of the girl’s ill temper focused on April.
“Mom took us to the beach every Christmas. Why wouldn’t Aunt Tracy take us to Hawaii with her? Why couldn’t you come to Santa Barbara? You used to live in LA. I remember you from when I was little and Mom first got sick.”
April tightened her grip on the steering wheel as memories of her friend Jill rushed over her. Taking the turn around one of the two-lane road’s steep switchbacks, she punched the accelerator too hard and felt the tires begin to spin as they lost traction.
Ignoring the panicked shrieks from the backseat, she eased off the gas pedal and corrected the steering, relieved to feel the SUV under her control again.
“It’s okay,” she assured the girls with a forced smile. April was still adjusting to driving during Colorado winters. “The road is icy up here, but we’re close to the turnoff for the cabin.” She risked another brief look and saw that Ranie had reached across the empty middle seat to take Shay’s hand, both girls holding on like the lifeline they were to each other.
It broke April’s heart.
She pulled off onto the shoulder after turning up the recently plowed gravel drive that led to Cloud Cabin. The quasi “remote wilderness experience” was an offshoot of Crimson Ranch, the popular guest ranch in the valley, and had opened earlier in the fall. The owners happened to be April’s best friend, movie actress Sara Travers, and her husband, Josh. April had first come to Crimson with Sara three years ago, both women burned out and broken down by their lives in Hollywood.
April knew this town could heal someone when they let it. Crimson—and Josh’s love—had done that for Sara. April also recognized that she’d held herself back from the community and hadn’t truly become a part of it.
Throwing the SUV into Park, she turned to the backseat and met the wary gazes of each of her late friend’s precious girls. “I’m sorry your aunt couldn’t change her plans for the holidays.” She took a deep breath as frustration over Tracy’s callous attitude toward her nieces threatened to overtake her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to California for these weeks. I have a work commitment here that can’t be changed.”
“I thought you were a yoga teacher.” Ranie snatched her fingers away from Shay’s grasp. “Who does yoga in the snow?”
“No one I know.” April wanted to unstrap her seat belt, crawl into the backseat and gather the surly girl into her arms and try to hug away some of the pain pouring off her. “There’s a guest coming to stay at the cabin for Christmas. I need to get there and make sure everything is in order before he arrives. He’s a writer and needs to finish a book. He wants the privacy of the mountains to concentrate.”
She was already behind, the detour to the airport in Denver pushing back her arrival at Cloud Cabin a few hours. “My job is to cook for him, manage the housekeeping and—”
Ranie offered her best preteen sneer. “Like you’re a maid?”
“Like I take care of people,” April corrected.
“Like you’re taking care of us because Mommy died.” Shay’s voice was sad but still sweet.
“I am, honey,” April whispered around the ball of emotion clogging her throat. She smiled at Ranie, but the girl’s eyes narrowed, as if she knew being with April was anything but a sure bet for their future.
April turned up the brightness of her smile as she looked at Shay. “Only about a quarter mile more.” She turned to the front and flipped on the radio, tuning it to a satellite station that got reception even in this remote area. “How about some holiday music? Do either of you have a favorite Christmas song?”
“‘Rudolph,’” Shay shouted, clapping her hands.
April pulled the SUV back onto the snow-packed road. “How about you, Ranie?”
“I hate Christmas music,” the girl muttered, then added, “but not as much as I hate you.”
Despite the jab to her heart, April ignored the rude words. She turned up the volume and sang along until the cabin came into view. A driver was bringing Connor Pierce, who was flying into the Aspen airport, to the cabin. The fact that the windows were dark gave her hope that she’d caught at least one break today, and he hadn’t arrived before her.
April needed every advantage she could get if she was going to successfully manage these next two weeks.
* * *
“No kids.”
Connor Pierce growled those two words as soon as the willowy redhead walked into the kitchen.
Maybe he should have waited to speak until she’d spotted him standing in front of the window. Unprepared, she’d jumped into the air, dropping the bag of groceries as she clutched one hand to her chest.
Her wide brown eyes met his across the room, a mix of shock and fear in her gaze. Scaring a woman half to death was a new low for Connor, but he couldn’t stop. “They need to go,” he snapped, fists clenched at his side. “Now.”
To the woman’s credit, she recovered faster than he would have expected, placing a hand on the back of a chair as she straightened her shoulders. “Who are you?”
The fact that she didn’t scurry away in the face of his anger was also new. Most people he knew would have turned tail already. “What kind of question is that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “The kind I expect you to answer.”
“I’m the paying guest,” he said slowly, enunciating each word.
“Mr. Pierce?” She swallowed and inclined her head to study him more closely. He didn’t care for the examination.
“Connor.”
“You don’t look like the photo on your website.”
“That picture was taken a long time ago.” Back when he was overweight and happy and his heart hadn’t been ripped out of his chest. When he could close his eyes and not see a car engulfed in flames, not feel his own helplessness like a vise around his lungs.
She didn’t question him, although curiosity was a bright light in her eyes. Instead, she smiled. “Welcome to Colorado. I’m sorry you got to the cabin before me.” She bent to retrieve the groceries, quickly refilling the cloth bag she’d dropped. “I was told your flight arrived later this afternoon.”
The smile threw him, as did her easy manner. “I took an earlier one.”
After placing the bag on the counter, she walked forward, her hand held out to him. “I’m April Sanders. I’ll be making sure your stay at Cloud Cabin is everything you want it to be.”
“I want the kids gone.” He didn’t take her hand, even though it was rude. She was tall for a woman but still several inches shorter than him. Her long hair was pulled back in a low knot, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her neck above the down coat she wore. The light in her eyes dimmed as her hand dropped.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I saw you come in,” he said, hitching a finger toward the window overlooking the front drive. “Are those your daughters?”
She shook her head.
“They can’t be here.”
“They aren’t here. They’re with me in the smaller cabin next door.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Their voices had drifted up to him when the girls spilled out of the car. The older one, her dark blond hair in a tight braid down her back, had kept her shoulders hunched, arms crossed over her chest as she took in the forest around the house. Connor had felt an unwanted affinity to her. Clearly, she