Read Online Her Ideal Man by Ruth Wind - Free Book Online Page A

in a city doesn’t mean you can’t leave it.” She tied her parka hood. “You know, New Yorkers have some very strange ideas about the West, but you guys have just as many about us.”
    â€œDo we?” He tucked his jeans into his boots and tied them. “Like what?”
    â€œLike what you just said, for example. The city is only the city. You don’t spend your whole life in concrete canyons. We went to the beach on the weekends, and out to Long Island to visit my aunt Viola. It’s not like there are walls around the city, making sure you never leave. It’s just a place.”
    Tyler lifted his eyebrows in concession. “I guess I never thought about that before.”
    â€œI’ll tell you something else. Everybody always says New Yorkers are mean, but they aren’t, really. Not once you scratch the surface. Out here, everybody acts like they’re all friendly and warm, but they’re really prickly underneath.”
    At that, he had to laugh. “We’re sick of all you guys coming out here, telling us what to do.”
    A brief, wounded flash crossed her face. “I wouldn’t do that.”
    â€œI didn’t mean it like that. You seem very sincere.” Taking the snowshoes in one hand, he opened the door and gestured her in front of him. “Not everybody gets to learn to snowshoe, after all.”
    Her wild gypsy smile flashed with genuine happiness. A twist caught Tyler’s lungs. Hadn’t anyone ever shown her how to hide anything she was thinking? It made her too vulnerable, the way everything showed on her face. “Thank you,” she said.
    Outside, the snow was falling lightly, but there was no wind. As long as it was still, the air would not be too cold, and he hadn’t exaggerated when he told her the exercise would keep them warm. He illustrated the basics, and they set off across the open meadow fronting the cabin. Charley leaped along beside them for a few feet, but even his long legs were no match for the depth of the snow. With a brief, sad whine, he cat-jumped back to the porch to wait for them to return.
    â€œShouldn’t he be in the house?” Anna asked.
    â€œHe won’t go in until I’m back. If he gets cold, he’ll go behind the woodshed. It’s warm and dry back there.”
    He led the way up the mountain, without any real aim in mind at first. Because breath was needed for exercise, conversation was sporadic, and limited to comments on footprints in the snow and nature’s wonders and the obvious effects of the windstorm the night before. Not only his tree had been broken. Dozens of branches littered every clearing.
    It wasn’t until they’d been out for a couple of hours that Tyler thought to lead her to the summit of a particular hill. Even on a cloudy day, the view of the back valley was one she wouldn’t forget. First, he paused at a stream, still running in trickles in spite of the weather, and offered her the thermos. “You holding up okay?”
    She drank gratefully, then nodded. “It’s wonderful.” Her ruddy cheeks showed the bloom of exertion, but it wasn’t a dangerous color, just the clear, rose-red blush of health. It made her eyes look even blacker. “When I first got here, I could barely cross the street without resting, but I guess my lungs have adjusted now.”
    â€œGood.” He tucked the thermos back in the pack. “We can have a snack and rest at the summit, then go back.”
    â€œHow do you rest in the snow?”
    â€œOn pine branches, Miss Winter Survival.”
    She grinned, and just that swiftly, Tyler had an uneasy feeling. He was not acting like himself, not at all. He should have sulked through all this. Unpleasant as it was to admit, it would have been a lot more in character. But somehow the snow and the gypsy-colored Anna and the forced proximity had caused a shift in his thinking, in his attitude. Maybe it