Stetson on the hook by the door and reached for the knit cap and scarf his aunt had made for him a couple of years back. Still, he wasnât prepared for the extreme drop in temperature that had happened while he was inside.
The streets of Kings Meadow were extra quiet on this Sunday afternoon, and as far as he could tell, only a few stores were open along Main Street. At least no Christmas shoppers were in sight when he stopped at the stop sign. All he heard was the mournful wind and the rumble of his truckâs engine. Loneliness wound around his heart, and he realized that despite how friendly people had been to him at churchthat morning, he wasnât a part of that communityâor a part of any other community. By his own choice, heâd kept himself from forming close relationships through the years. Brad Cartwright had been one of the few people who had found a way through Trevorâs defenses.
He turned his truck east and drove beyond the limits of town. Snow began to fall when he was about halfway to the ranch. Tiny flakes, carried sideways by the wind, obscured his view and forced him to go even slower, afraid he might miss the turn. But he didnât miss it. Despite the snowstorm, the way felt familiar to him.
Arriving at the ranch, he parked in front of the house, got out of the pickup, and hurried up the steps to the front porch. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door was opened a short while later by Penny. Her expression was one of grudging resignation. She didnât want him in her home, but because of her father she wouldnât turn him away.
Did I think I could win her forgiveness in a matter of days?
Yes, in some ways, he supposed that was what heâd thought. Most women believed he had charm to spare. Plenty found him good looking and talented and fun to be around. But none of that mattered one iota to Penny Cartwright. It was clear as day. In her cool blue eyes. In the stern line of her mouth. In her rigid stance.
âCome in, Mr. Reynolds,â she said, frost in her voice. âDadâs waiting for you.â
He wanted to remind her to call him Trevor, but he swallowed the words as he stepped into the house while removinghis knit hat. Penny closed the door and then silently held out her hands to take his coat after heâd shrugged out of it. She placed it on the coat tree and his hat and scarf on a nearby table.
Her dad appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. âTrevor, glad to see you could make it. How are the roads?â
âNot bad.â
âCare for something warm to drink before we brave the elements?â
âSure.â
âCoffee okay?â
Trevor nodded.
The older man waved him forward before turning and moving out of sight. Trevor followed, thinking to himself that Rodney was like his son in many ways. Brad had had an affable, hospitable nature too. No one had been a stranger to him. At least, not for very long. Heâd had true empathy for those around him, no matter who they were. And when Brad had spoken of his family back in Kings Meadow, his love for his dad and sister had been obvious.
By comparison, Trevorâs relationship with his father had always been troubled, cold, and distant. After he left for Nashville, on those rare occasions when heâd spoken with his father by phone, there had always come a moment when his father would ask, âWhen are you going to get a real job? When are you going to make something of yourself?â
His father had passed away a number of years ago, but the memory of those questions remained a pinprick to Trevorâsheart. With practiced resolve, he pushed the thoughts away and let his gaze roam the room, looking for something to keep his thoughts from returning to those uncomfortable memories.
The kitchen in the Cartwright home was large and airy. The breakfast nook had bay windows that looked out on a fenced pasture where several horses stood, backs to the wind and snow. While
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