The beach stretched out on either side of him—beige pebbles, white sand, and bleached wood worn smooth from the tide. Nick brushed the sugar sprinkle of snow off one of these logs and seated himself with a groan, stretching his tired legs out in front of him.
The hike had been exactly what he’d needed. Burgoyne Bay was just challenging enough to tire his body, which in turn emptied his mind. Sitting on the deserted stretch of beach, watching lace-tipped waves crash onto the shore, he was the closest to content he’d been in recent memory.
It still surprised him that the ocean brought him peace, considering how his mother had died. Maybe that was why, actually—perhaps on some level he felt as though the waves brought him closer to the parent who’d lost her life in them.
Oh, no. He wasn’t going down that path, not today. Not when he’d finally carved out a little slice of peace, a rare commodity for his busy and often chaotic mind.
Sucking in a deep breath of icy air, he savored the solitude. And of course, because he was very nearly happy in his isolation, a voice from above sliced through the quiet.
“Have mercy!” a woman shouted from the trail above him. Nick sighed, closing his eyes as he looked up at the sky. He couldn’t logically be upset with someone for hiking along a public trail, but it was the same feeling that came when he ran on the treadmill in the island’s one small health club and out of all the other machines in the place, the newcomer selected the one right beside his. Just an annoying invasion of space.
The squawking from above continued, and, accepting that his solitude was over, he twisted on his seat, shading his eyes and scanning the rock face above him. A flash of pink flickered through the greenery, moving forward, but it wasn’t until the last switchback of the trail that he was able to see the entire figure.
It was a woman, a slender one who was breathing hard as she rounded the corner. Squinting, he watched with some amusement as the obviously novice hiker stopped for a moment, panting and pressing her hand to what was probably a cramp in her stomach.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he watched her suck it up and start again. She stumbled, holding out her arms to regain her balance with a honey-coated yelp, and he realized who he was looking at.
Emma. Mike’s daughter. Inexplicably irritated to see her here, interrupting his self-reflection, he stood and called up to her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Startled, she stopped, eyes scanning the beach below her. Her lips twisted into an expression of displeasure when she spotted him, and once more he felt that perverse attraction, all because of her mouth. “There are beginner trails all over the island. You’re going to hurt yourself!”
This was clearly the wrong thing to say, because she simply glared, squared her shoulders, and pushed forward for another few steps. He watched her halting progress with a mixture of admiration and scorn.
She still wasn’t dressed for the weather, though it gave him an odd sense of pleasure to see his jacket hanging open over her pink sweater. Still, she needed a proper ski jacket. Mittens. A toque, for God’s sake. And she was wearing…he squinted, sure that he was seeing wrong.
Nope. She was wearing the same boots she’d had on earlier, the fancy little things with the heels. Heels. On a hike.
Her pants were the only acceptable part of her outfit. In fact, he found he could offer no complaint at all on that front.
What did women call those things? Yoga pants. Yeah. Thank God for yoga pants and the way they showed off those impossibly long legs of hers.
A gust of frigid wind blew off the ocean, interrupting Nick’s admiration of Emma’s legs and making even his seasoned Canadian blood chill. Watching as she started to shiver so hard he could actually see it from down below, aggravation grated.
“Where the hell are your mittens? Your toque?” Shouting up, he ground his teeth together. “Haven’t you ever heard of frostbite?”
Maybe Mike had no idea that he had a daughter, but Nick would be damned if that daughter would lose her nose or a toe to the cold before he could find out.
“What is a toque?” Her blond ponytail swished as she lifted her chin in the air, now close enough for him to see the way the cold had made her icy pale skin scarlet. “That’s not even a word!”
“This is a toque!” Pulling a spare knit cap out of his pocket, he waved the red fabric through the air. “Get down here and put this on!”
“Well, bless your heart,” she drawled, in that unmistakable voice of hers. Was it weird that it both irritated the hell out of him and turned him on at the same time? “We don’t have toques in Georgia. Whatever was I thinking?”
“Clearly, you weren’t.” Damn it, if she didn’t get down here and put his “toque” on before she turned into an icicle, he’d go up there and cover that blond head for her. “Emma, I’m serious. What were you thinking, going for a hike without a winter jacket or proper boots? Look at you. You’re freezing.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, but I reckon I’ll do—no!” Whatever she was about to say cut off as she took another step downhill. Nick’s stomach flipped as he watched, almost in slow motion, as her ankle rolled and she fell.