Snow Angel Cove. RaeAnne Thayne

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СКАЧАТЬ its gas fireplace, four-poster bed and floor-to-ceiling windows facing the lake. “I like rooms that are pink, usually, but this one is nice,” she said. She looked tired, he thought, more concerned about her than ever now that he knew she suffered from a heart condition.

      “It’s a lovely room,” Eliza said. “Thank you.”

      Like her daughter, she showed clear signs of exhaustion. Her mouth drooped a little at the corners and she gripped the back of the armchair in the room to steady herself.

      The bruise above her temple looked dark and ugly against the pale loveliness of her features. He couldn’t look at it without guilt drenching him like somebody had tossed a bucket of ice water in his face.

      He could have killed her and Maddie both.

      Yeah, the tires had been terrible on the rental vehicle and black ice had contributed to the accident, but some part of him would always wonder if his own reflexes had somehow been slower than they should have been.

      Could he have stopped a few seconds earlier than he had and avoided hitting her altogether if he were a hundred percent back to normal?

      He couldn’t know the answer to that, for all the metrics and algorithms in the world.

      “I thought you might like a bedroom on the main floor so you don’t have to tackle the stairs, but if you would prefer one with a better view of the lake, those are on the second floor. I’m having an elevator installed but it won’t be done for a few months.”

      “This should be fine. It’s very nice. We can share the bed.”

      “Not necessary.”

      He reached down and pulled a wheeled trundle mattress out from underneath the bigger four-poster.

      “I wanted these rooms designed with flexible bedding for when my family comes to visit.”

      “Oh, I love it! Look! My very own little bed.”

      “Nice.” She smiled at her daughter, though she hadn’t moved from her spot where he suspected she would fall over if she moved away from the chair propping her up.

      She belonged in the hospital. He frowned, wishing he could pack her up and drag her right back there. At least she was here, where he could watch out for her, and not trying to drive back to Boise. It was small comfort.

      “Your home is lovely,” she said.

      “It’s a work in progress,” he said.

      “All the best homes are. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

      “I suppose.”

      Purchasing a home on a mountain lake in Idaho had never been on his radar. He enjoyed the home he had built in San Jose and had leased another property on the coast near Big Sur for his recovery.

      For some time, he had been thinking about buying a ranch, maybe something closer to Hope’s Crossing and his family, until a friend and business partner mentioned his family property here on Lake Haven.

      One quick visit later and a look at the stunning, restful view of the lake and mountains, and Aidan had purchased it on the spot, along with the other property that came with it.

      He might not have been a hundred percent in his right mind but he refused to regret it. He needed a retreat, a place away from the constant pressure and stress of his regular world—especially now. He was on strict orders to rest and be patient with himself as he healed and slowly returned to his regular activities.

      Where better to do that than this sleepy little Idaho town where he could ride horses and cross-country ski on untrammeled snow during the winter and stand hip-deep in the Hell’s Fury River with a fly rod in his hand during the summer?

      His scar itched like crazy and he wanted to reach back and scratch it but he curled his hand into a fist at his side instead.

      “It lacks many of the finishing touches I want,” he said after a moment, looking around the room. “I have family coming for the holidays the Tuesday before Christmas. I’m hoping we can whip it into shape before they arrive.”

      “The other guy, Jim, said you have six horses,” Maddie said, bouncing her bottom a little on the trundle bed.

      She was really an adorable little girl, with those dark curls, dimples and the big green eyes she had inherited from her mother.

      Cardiomyopathy. Poor thing. Sometimes life really sucked.

      “I do indeed have six horses.”

      He loved to ride and had since he was a kid spending a few weeks each summer with his maternal grandparents, who had a ranch in southwest Colorado. All his brothers would stay with their grandparents but he was the best rider of the six of them. He didn’t need a psychoanalyst to explain his enduring affinity for horses. It was rare for him to excel at anything physical that one of his brothers hadn’t already conquered.

      Even at his house in San Jose, he had a few horses and would take them up into the mountains along the coastline whenever he had the chance.

      “I love horses,” Maddie informed him. “I have a horse named Bob. Mom calls him my imaginary friend but he’s real. He is!”

      “I’m sure.”

      “Jim said Bob and me could visit your horses tomorrow.”

      “I don’t see why that would be a problem. I’m sure they would love a visitor.”

      “He said I could maybe even ride one!”

      He didn’t miss the way Eliza’s mouth tightened at that idea. Did it have something to do with her heart issues? Not wanting to stir the pot, he simply shrugged. “I don’t know about that. We’ll have to see. Sometimes they’re not in the mood to have people ride them.”

      “Can I still visit them, though?”

      “I don’t mind, if your mother doesn’t,” he answered.

      “That really depends on how early we leave tomorrow,” Eliza said.

      “Okay,” Maddie said with an equanimity he found surprising in such a young girl. Perhaps she was used to disappointments, a notion that left him sad for her. His nephew Carter, about the same age as Maddie, would never be so sanguine.

      Or maybe she was simply too tired to argue. She yawned and drooped a little more.

      “The bathroom is through there,” he said, pointing to the en suite. “You should find everything you need, as far as linens and toiletries.”

      “Thank you.”

      He was strangely reluctant to leave them. How was it possible he had only met Eliza Hayward and her daughter a handful of hours before? He felt an odd connection to her, as if the events of the day had forged a bond between them.

      “If I haven’t said it in the last hour or so, I’m sorry again for what happened today.”

      “It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Caine.”

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