That one syllable pretty much summed it up. His skin prickled as if he was breaking out in hives. Had it not occurred to Grandma Sheryl that this encounter might not go well? That Sarah might not want to see him again? He and Sarah hadn’t parted on the best of terms after they’d graduated from high school, and they hadn’t seen each other since. And she didn’t sound as if she was too thrilled about the prospect of seeing him now.
“I’m just here to collect the horses and then I’ll get out of your hair,” he promised, grinning despite the discomfort of his churning stomach.
“Fine,” she agreed with a clipped nod. She wasn’t even trying to smile. “But first I need to take care of Crash. Clever girl somehow opened the paddock gate and decided to take a little hike on her own. I was afraid I might have lost her for good.”
Marcus eyed Crash and then the Percheron. “How do you plan to get her back to your ranch?”
She chuckled, but to his keen ears it sounded forced. He laughed along with her, hoping that would encourage her not to stress over it. Chasing a runaway reindeer was kind of funny in a way, but maybe not if you were the owner of said reindeer.
“It’s a Christmas tree farm, not a ranch. And I’ve brought my trusty lariat along to catch the errant reindeer,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him, the sudden sparkle in her gray eyes making Marcus’s breath catch in his throat. “Can you give me a boost? Mag here is as gentle as a lamb but he’s a big ol’ brute.”
“I’ll say,” Marcus agreed, threading his fingers to provide a hand-made stirrup. She steadied herself by gripping his shoulder and their gazes met and held for what seemed like an eternity, but which was probably only a few seconds, long enough for electricity to zing through him and rev his pulse.
They were both older now, and hopefully wiser, but apparently some things never changed, such as the way her gray eyes could so easily capture his and jolt him right down to his core. Such as the way his head spun when he inhaled the sweet apple of her shampoo, the same scent she’d worn when they were dating in high school.
What would Grandma Sheryl think of that?
Better for him if she didn’t find out. He swallowed hard and boosted Sarah up onto Mag’s sturdy back, half-relieved when she was no longer in his arms, and yet he felt oddly vacant.
“Is Mag short for something?” he asked, trying to turn his mind to something less hazardous.
“Magnificent. The other half of his team is Jes—Majestic.”
“Clever. And accurate.”
“Thank you. I named them myself.” She seemed to sit a little taller as she slipped the lariat off her shoulder and nudged Mag forward with her heels. To Marcus’s surprise, Crash didn’t budge when the large draft horse trotted in her direction, and Sarah easily slid the loop over the reindeer’s neck.
“Okay, now, Crash, let’s get you back home where you belong.” She glanced behind her to Marcus, leaning her free hand on Mag’s flanks. “You can follow me back to the farm in your truck.”
“That won’t bother the animals?”
“Not if you don’t tailgate.”
She flashed him a cheeky grin, turned forward and kicked Mag into a quick trot. Crash snuffed in protest but held back for only a moment before following her without any more hesitation. Marcus couldn’t say that he blamed the reindeer.
There was a time when he would have followed Sarah anywhere.
* * *
Sarah couldn’t seem to catch a breath nor calm her erratic pulse. She was painfully aware of the deep purr of Marcus’s truck directly behind her, but she didn’t dare glance backward to see if he was following at a safe distance.
He was. He was Marcus, after all.
Marcus Ender. He’d been on her mind often in recent weeks, but she’d never considered that she might actually see him again. He was her happy place, the spot in her mind and the high point of her past memories where she went when she needed to remember the way things used to be, when in her innocence and naïveté she’d believed the whole wonderful world stretched before her, full of adventures and blessings. Before she’d grown up and finally understood how painful life really was.
To her deep regret, little had gone right in her life since she’d graduated from high school and left small-town Oklahoma behind for the thrill of Colorado. She’d been full of ideals and intentions, the promise of higher education and making it out on her own.
She’d graduated college, but then her life had gone off on a tangent she never would have expected. Things had gotten bad. Then worse. Then downright terrible. Right now she felt as if she was drowning. She would have long since given up trying to succeed at all if it weren’t for her beloved daughters. Even given all the misfortunes she’d encountered, she would do it all again in a heartbeat for Onyx and Jewel.
Every day, with every ounce of her being, she fought for her children and prayed for them and worked for things to get better. But they didn’t get better, and no matter how hard she prayed, the Lord didn’t appear to answer her, or even hear her meager pleas. Lately she’d stopped asking.
Crash snuffed, bringing her abruptly back to the present. The reindeer pulled back unexpectedly, contending with the rope around her neck. The lariat tightened and nearly slipped from Sarah’s fingers. She dropped the horse’s reins and grabbed the rope with both hands, tugging against the stubborn reindeer. That’s all she needed, to have Crash bolt and run. This day was already a prime disaster in the making without silly reindeer games.
She snorted at her unintentional pun. Oh, she was funny today. And it was only going to get better from here.
Marcus had come to take away the last vestiges of her life with her late husband, Justin. Mag and Jes, the Percheron team that had once drawn the sleigh taking cheery guests out into the woods to find the perfect Christmas tree, would now be part of Sheryl Ender’s breeding program—or something. They hadn’t really discussed why Sheryl wanted to purchase the draft horses from her. Last she knew, the older lady and her business partner bred and trained quarter horses for barrel racing. Percherons seemed a far cry from that, but if Sheryl had use for the Percherons and would give a good price for them, who was Sarah to complain?
At least her beloved horses were going to someone she trusted and admired. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but she dashed them away with the back of her hand.
No more tears. She was done crying.
The only animals left at the farm after the Percherons departed would be Snort and Crash. She had no idea what she was going to do with a couple of live reindeer. Trying to sell them a week before Christmas was like trying to pawn penny candy at a gourmet chocolate shop. An added stress to an already bleak season.
The sky, which only minutes before had been a pale blue and lined with a few fluffy clouds on the horizon, had now turned a dark, ominous mixture of colors as a storm surged over the front range of the Rocky Mountains. Sarah was familiar with Colorado weather and how abruptly things could change. Some days you could get a tan in the morning and build a snowman by midafternoon. She sensed the change as much as saw it, breathed the feeling of imminent snow in the air, and moments later large white flakes were spitting from the sky.
She glanced back at Marcus. He was following close enough that she could see the half smile on his lips, but his expressive eyes were shadowed by the brim of his hat. He’d appeared every bit as shocked as she was at their unexpected encounter with each other, and she wondered what he thought about it now.
She shook her head and scoffed at herself. Why did it matter? He would load the Percherons in his trailer and be on his way within the hour. That would be the best thing for both of them, if he left without lingering. The less time they had to spend together, the better.
Unfortunately, her plan to be quickly rid of Marcus