Crouched at her feet, he shook his head, and she tried not to admire the inky-blue halo of morning sunlight bouncing off his black hair. “You’ll be knee deep without the shoes.” He looked up at her. “The roads will be clear by noon. If this worries you, why don’t you enjoy the hotel for a few hours? I’ll drive back at lunch, pick you up, and show you around the operation.”
“No.” She lowered her voice, even though they had the sidewalk to themselves. “I’d like to get started right away.” She touched her leather messenger bag containing a printout of Skyline’s document request and her laptop. “It’s a pretty extensive list of requests.”
“All right, but just so you know, these”—he jiggled her other foot—“aren’t really the kind of boots snowshoes are designed for.”
Really? Her brand-new winter boots with, for her, low heels and grippy soles had seemed like perfect cold weather gear when she’d spied them in a store window in L.A. “Will it attach?”
“It will, but—”
She watched, fascinated and slightly turned on as he deftly secured the binding around the back of her boot. “But?”
He tapped the thick, two-inch heel. “I think it’s liable to slip off once you really get going. It wasn’t made for high heels. Sure you didn’t stash a pair of hiking boots somewhere in that big trunk of yours?”
In her book, stocky two-inch heels hardly qualified as “high,” but she didn’t see the benefit of explaining that to him. “These are my hiking boots.”
His mouth kicked up into a grin. The sad-eyed guy was nowhere to be found right now. “Just a shot in the dark here, Izzy, but I’m guessing you haven’t done a lot of hiking in the snow.”
“None. But I walk. I’ve been doing it since I was ten months old. How hard can it be to do it in snow?”
He simply clamped on the other snowshoe. “Practice here on the sidewalk for a few minutes and see if the bindings hold. I’m going to get my shoes from the car and spring Key from the kennel.” He held out a hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. She tested one snowshoe, then the other, then gave him a thumbs up.
“Okay. Practice. I’ll be right back.”
Bundled in her puffy, rose-pink parka, ears cozy under her coordinated cashmere headband, she waited until the door of the inn slammed closed. Then she took a couple experimental steps. Not too smooth, but not too clumsy either. The trick, she discovered, was to really lift her feet and take wide steps, because the snowshoes had to clear each stride. Walk like a clown, basically.
Behind her, the inn door swung open. She managed an awkward turn, and discovered Rose and Lilah standing there, watching her and smiling encouragingly.
“It’s fun, yes?” Rose commented.
“Um. Yeah.” She forced a smile. “I can’t wait to…uh…” What was the verb? She decided to improvise. “Shush off into the snow and explore.”
“Good day for it. Good exercise, too,” Rose added, pumping her arms. “You might find your legs and”—she gestured toward her trim backside—“are a little sore later. I’ll put a bottle of our Captivity Cure Lotion in your suite.” She winked at Izzy. “Ask Trace to show you how to use it.”
She blushed. She knew she did because she felt the heat in her cheeks. Was the entire inn envisioning Trace giving her a rubdown later? “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
“I like your jacket,” Lilah said.
“Thank you. I didn’t know exactly what to pack,” she admitted. “Based on my research, March is a tricky month.”
“Yes,” Rose agreed. “Last night’s blizzard was not typical. Don’t judge Captivity by this.” She gestured at the drifts of snow. “A few short weeks from now, we’ll have bleeding hearts and primroses shooting. There’s more here than snowstorms.”
“I like your boots, too,” Lilah said. “They’re…” She broke off and blushed a little, and Izzy’s mind time-traveled back to her first semester in college, where all those SoCal kids had seemed so much more mature and stylish than she.
“Impractical,” she supplied, knowing Trace would agree with her assessment.
“They’re hot,” Lilah confessed. “But I’m not sure they’re best for snowshoeing.”
“Hmm.” Rose stroked her chin and considered. “Size seven?”
“Um…yes.”
“I will call Annie at Watkins General Store and ask her to send some size seven hiking boots to your suite. Trace has an account.”
Oh dear. This was getting out of hand, already. “That’s not necessary. Really. I don’t expect to—”
“We want you to have what you need,” Lilah said. To her surprise, the younger woman came over, took her gloved hands and gave them a quick squeeze. “We want you to be happy here. To feel at home.”
Sharp tines of guilt stabbed at her. These people were bending over backward for her because they thought she was the love of Trace’s life. Now she had to find a way to accept the kindness but discourage them from making more special efforts to help her feel at home. This wasn’t home and never would be, no matter how welcoming the locals were. She dredged up what she hoped looked like the smile of a woman in love. “I do feel at home, and happy. As long as I’m with Trace, I have everything I need.”
Was that too over-the-top? Apparently not, since mother and daughter exchanged pleased looks. That made her feel guilty, too, but she did her best to shake it off. It was Trace’s lie, not hers, and his mess to straighten out once the deal was done. If anything she said or did in the course of maintaining their cover story made things messier in the long run, well—she mentally shrugged—he’d signed up for it.
Trace chose that moment to reappear, snowshoes in hand and Key beside him. The ladies greeted him, and then Lilah crouched to give the husky some love. Mutual love, she decided as she watched Key’s tail shift to high gear. His body stayed in constant motion as he nosed his way past Lilah’s arms to lick her cheeks. She laughed and whispered to the dog. It answered in soft chuffs, almost as if they were exchanging secrets.
With that odd thought stuck in her head, she returned to the bench and sat. Trace took the spot beside her and clamped a snowshoe on with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times.
“Will you go to the lighthouse?” Rose asked.
Trace looked up from a binding and pointed toward the water. “Just down to the airfield.”
“The airfield?” Rose spat the word with a mix of disgust and exasperation. She shook her head. “No. She has already been to the airfield. Take her on a fun trail, to a pretty view.”