Page 25 of Mack

“Very.” She tilted her head. “Was there something you needed?”

He looked at her steadily. “I wanted to ask if T.J. might want to see the horses this weekend. If the weather holds.” He hesitated. “You too, obviously.”

Obviously. She almost smiled at that.

“He’s been asking about your horses since Saturday,” she said. “I think you already know what his answer will be.”

“I was hoping.” He settled his hat back on his head. “Saturday morning, if that works. I’ll have the coffee on.”

“He’ll want hot chocolate.”

“I’ll have that too. I’ll text you my address.”

She looked at him for a moment, this steady unhurried man standing in her Christmas shop in the middle of September like it was the most natural place in the world for him to be.

“Saturday,” she said. “We’ll be there.”

He nodded, touched the brim of his hat, and walked out.

Mallory stood at the counter and listened to the Christmas music playing softly overhead and told herself the warmth she was feeling was just the shop’s heating system.

It was a very good heating system.

The week moved entirely too slowly. She was anxious to see where Mack lived, to see the horses. She’d always loved them, had grown up riding at her parents’ place, and the thought of getting back in a saddle was almost as appealing as the thought of who’d be there when she arrived. Almost.

Finally, Saturday came. She buckled T.J. into his car seat, climbed behind the wheel, and headed out. It was cold, but the roads were clear and she would have driven through considerably worse. She shook her head at herself. Maybe not two feet of snow. But close.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at her son; both dinosaurs buckled in beside him.

“What did you name the blue one?”

“Blue,” T.J. said. “Cause he is.”

“Well, that makes sense. That way you won’t forget.”

“I won’t forget it, Mama.” His frown in the mirror was deeply offended.

She kept her eyes on the road, bit her lower lip and shook her head.

When the GPS announced she’d reached her destination she took a breath and turned onto the drive, following it through the pines until the house came into view.

It was a large white farmhouse with a porch that wrapped all the way around, black shutters framing every window, the whole thing sitting solid and unhurried against the backdrop of the mountains. She hadn’t known what to expect but it wasn’t this. It was gorgeous.

She pulled to a stop and sat for a moment just looking at it.

“Is this Mack’s house, Mama?”

“It is.”

T.J. pressed his face against the window. “It’s big.”

“It is,” she agreed.

As she looked at the side door, it opened and Mack stepped onto the porch. Her heart did something uncomfortable.

“Hi, Mack!” T.J. hollered from the back seat.

Mack grinned and came down the steps to her door. He opened it and held out his hand without a word.