Jillian Hart - Snowflake Bride

“Do you have any idea where you lost it?” His deep blue gaze speared hers with something that could have been friendly, but it was far too intense. “It’s a long way between here and your farm.”

“Ah, over here.” Thankful her command of the English language had returned, she felt silly pointing in front of her, where she had been looking when he’d driven up. His horse watched them curiously, blowing air out his nose and sending snowflakes whirling. “I’m afraid it’s gone for good.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. You may have to wait until spring to find it.” A slow grin accompanied his words. There was a reason most of the young ladies in Angel Falls had a crush on the man. When he smiled, good humor warmed a face that was already perfection and gave heart to his intense, dark blue eyes, the straight, strong blade of his nose and the hard, lean line of his mouth. His cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass, and the uncompromising angle of his square jaw spoke of strength and character. He didn’t need his heart-stopping dimples, but they made him mesmerizing. Incomparable. The most handsome man ever.

“I better not wait until April for a button,” she quipped. “I should be going. Thanks for stopping.”

“Sure.” He tilted his head slightly to one side, as if he was studying her or trying to make up his mind about her.

So far, so good, she thought. She hadn’t said anything that she considered inane enough that it would haunt her for days. She tightened her grip on her reticule, nodded good day and set out like the dignified young lady she wished she could be.

Ping! Ping! Shoe buttons went flying and plunked into the snow right in front of Lorenzo.

How embarrassing. Now her stockings were really showing, plus she looked like someone who couldn’t afford sturdy shoes. Mrs. Davis was never going to hire her now. If she did, the woman might worry what other part of her new maid’s attire would fail next. And as for Lorenzo, he had to be thinking she was the most backward country girl he’d ever seen.

“Got one.” He bent quickly and neatly plucked something out of the snow. “Let’s see if I can hunt down the other.”

Mortified, she watched in horror. Dreamy Lorenzo Davis dug his leather-gloved fingers through the snow in search of her battered shoe button with the patience and care he would spend looking for a fallen gold nugget.

Don’t think about the patch in your shoes, she told herself. She’d carefully repaired the hole on her handed-down shoes from the church donation barrel and had oiled the leather carefully. At a distance, they could have been new, but up close, they had clearly seen better days. She feared she looked as secondhand as her shoes. Definitely not in Lorenzo’s class.

“Found it.” Triumphant, Lorenzo stood, all six feet of impressive male towering over her, and held out his hand. There, on his gloved palm, sat her buttons. “Are you interviewing with my mother this morning?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She plucked the buttons from him quickly, because she’d made her own mittens and they were a sad sight. She was only learning to knit and the uneven gage showed more than just a tad.

He didn’t seem to notice. “I know she’s looking for someone dependable. Her last kitchen maid eloped with the neighbor’s farmhand without giving notice, so Ma is particularly miffed about that. Mention you are as dependable as the sun, and she’ll hire you.”

She slipped the buttons into her coat pocket. His advice was nice, but why would he bother? “You’re giving me an advantage.”

“Guilty. It would be nice to see a friendly face around the house. I miss everyone from school. Don’t get me wrong, I love working on the ranch, but I spend more time with cows and horses than people.” Those dimples deepened and held her captive.

Surely a sign of impending doom. She could not let a handsome man’s dimples draw her in like that. What was wrong with her? She tried to hide her smile and stared at the toes of her shoes. She needed to repair her shoe in time for her interview. How could she do that while he watched? Surely, as nice and kind as he was, Lorenzo couldn’t help drawing conclusions.

Well, she was never going to be as stylish as her friend Scarlet, endearing like Earlee or poised like Kate. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. She could only loosen her reticule strings and fish around for the packet of needles and bobbin of thread.

“Let me drive you up to the house.” His warm offer startled her.

“D-drive me?” She nearly dropped the buttons.

“It will give you time to sew everything on. My mother will never suspect.” Kindly, he held out his hand, palm up, as an invitation. “You can sew while I drive.”

Did his unguarded blue eyes have to be so compelling? Veiled in the snow, he could have been a western legend come to life, too dreamy to be real and too incredible to be actually speaking to her.

Don’t do it, she decided. Her pa had raised her to be self-reliant. She was perfectly capable of walking the rest of the way. Besides, she was too shy to think of a thing to say to him on the drive. She should simply say no.

“C’mon. I’m not leaving without you. If you walk, I walk. Not that I mind, but Poncho might take offense.”

As if on cue, the beautiful bay blew out his breath like a raspberry, making his lips vibrate disparagingly.

“See?” Lorenzo chuckled, and the sound was warm and homey, like melting butter on a stove. “If Poncho is upset, he will take it out on me all day long. You don’t want that for me, do you?”

“No, as Poncho looks like a terror.” The terror in question reached over to lip his master’s hat brim affectionately. Even the horse adored him. “I suppose one short, little ride won’t hurt. It’s only so I can sew.”

“Of course. That’s the reason I asked.” Lorenzo’s assurance came quick and light.

He must offer rides to stranded young ladies all the time. He was a gentleman. It was nothing personal, which made it easier to lay her palm on his.

A current of awareness telegraphed through her with the suddenness of lightning striking. The sweet wash of sensation was like a hymn on a Sunday morning. A sweetness she had no business feeling, though it brought her a gentle peace. She didn’t remember stepping forward or climbing into the sleigh. Suddenly, she was on the seat with him settled next to her and the steel of his arm pressed against hers.

How was she going to concentrate enough to sew?

“What happened to the horse you usually ride?” He snapped the reins gently. Poncho stepped forward, although the gelding swiveled his ears back, as if he wanted to hear the answer, too.

“Solomon threw a shoe, and I didn’t dare ride him.” She leaned forward to work on loosening her laces.

“It’s a long way to walk. Three miles or more.”

“I don’t mind. It’s a beautiful morning.” Soft, platinum curls, fallen loose from her plaits, framed her heart-shaped face and fluttered in the wind.

“It’s a cold morning,” he corrected gently, but she didn’t seem to see his point as she tugged off her shoe, shook off any melting pieces of snow and set it on her lap. He tried to think of a woman he knew who would walk three miles on a morning like this because it was better for her old horse. “You must really want the chance at the kitchen job.”

“Yes. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Work is hard to find these days. Pa is always talking about the poor economy.” She unwound a length of thread from a small wooden spool, her long, slender fingers graceful and careful.

Wishing swept through him as he studied her profile. Long lashes framed her light blue eyes. Her nose had a sweet little slope, and her gentle, rosebud mouth seemed to always hold the hint of a smile. The way her chin curved, so delicate and cute, made him want to run the pad of his thumb along the angle to see if her skin felt as soft as it looked. Every time he gazed upon her, tenderness wrapped around him in ever-strengthening layers. He had a fondness for Ruby Ballard, but he suspected she did not have one for him.