Jack returned to the stables from a brisk hour-long ride with Honest Abe. In the winter the trails were kept clear by snowmobile and were usually packed down enough that he could safely bring Abe to a trot for at least part of their rides. Jack dismounted, paused to tell his perlino paint gelding thank you, and greeted Charlene Pickens, who owned the stables with her husband, Rob.

“Who’s that cute young thing?” Charlene asked.

Jack turned and saw Elizabeth––whom he’d dreamt about the night before and whom he’d just spent the entirety of his horseback ride thinking about––and a feeling he’d never had before washed over him like the hopeful light of an Alaskan sunrise.

It was almost mystical. Jack saw her not how she was—a woman he barely knew—but as his. She was his Elizabeth, and she was coming to greet him because that’s what she always did when he came back from a horseback ride. The moment felt familiar, even though it wasn’t. It felt predestined, and he wondered if it was.

Elizabeth’s smile was brilliant and joyous, but as Jack waved back, she slipped on the icy snow. Arms flailing, she was down in seconds.

Beside him, Charlene gasped. “Oh, no. I hope she didn’t break something.”

Jack handed the reins of his horse to Charlene and went to Elizabeth, breaking into a jog. As he approached, he heard her laughing, and her laughter filled him with relief. She couldn’t be hurt too badly if she was laughing like that, flat on her back, looking up at the sky.

When he got to her, he looked down at her from above. She made no attempt to get up, but her blue eyes danced with happiness and contained great warmth, despite the cold temperature.

“Hi, there,” she said. “I make quite an entrance, don’t I?”

“That you do.” Sexy, adorable thing, Jack thought. He longed to gather her in his arms and sit with her there in the snow. Maybe gently tackle her and start a snowball fight. But as much as he wanted physical contact, and as much as he wanted to be the one to make her laugh, he had to hold back. Couldn’t lead her on. His past sins forbade it. “Are you okay? What’s funny?”

“Oh, the universe,” she said. “It rewards the brave, you know. Or so I’m told.”

Cute though she was, she was making no sense. “Did you hit your head when you slipped?”

She giggled. “No, silly.”

Jack had never much been a fan of giggling women, but coming from Elizabeth, he didn’t mind at all. Her smile was free and generous, so much less constrained than the last time he’d seen her. And she looked different, too. The hair, maybe? He couldn’t tell because she was wearing a beanie hat with a pompom on top. But yes, the black ends were gone.

“Your hair’s different,” he said, but then realized it wasn’t just the hair. It was more than that.

She was happy. Lying there on the cold ground, having slipped and fallen in front of a stranger and a man she’d met only twice before—she was happy.

“Is she okay, Jack?” Charlene called from where she stood.

“She’s fine,” he called back, and then asked Elizabeth, “You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m more than fine.” She continued to gaze at the sky, which was darkening by the minute. “You know, the nice thing about being knocked down is you get a beautiful look at the sky.”

Knocked down? Jack was confused. She’d fallen, plain and simple.

“The northern lights are going to be pretty tonight,” she said. “I always like it when they’re purple and blue. That’s my favorite combination.”

Jack remembered his dream then, in which she’d stood with a purple and blue backdrop and asked him to take her home, and a shiver ran down his spine. Something strange was happening with him … between them … as if the future was foretold, and he felt helpless to fight it. If it meant the kind of warm-bodies-closeness he craved with Elizabeth, he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight it.

“What are you doing here?” he asked softly as he offered his hand.

“Butterfinger cookie dough cheesecake brownies. I made you a pan as a thank you for all you’ve done.” Her eyes twinkled. “And then you went and knocked me down.”

His mouth watered at the mention of the dessert she’d brought. “You shouldn’t have. I have no self-control. I’ll probably eat the whole pan in one sitting.” He helped her up, taking her elbow once she’d risen to help her stabilize. “And I didn’t knock you down, Elizabeth—you fell.”

“If you say so.” She smiled up at him, practically craning her neck to meet his eyes; he hadn’t realized how petite she was.

“Do you mind if I check your head to see if you have a bump from the fall?”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

Although he did it gently, Jack felt like a kid on the schoolyard as he pulled off her hat by yanking on the pompom.

“Your hair!” he said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. I like it.”

Not only was the ombre gone like he’d noticed before, but her hair was shorter and the blond richer. Creamier. Lovelier. Elizabeth looked older now than she had the other day. Less scrappy hockey player and more tender. More womanly.

Jack took off his gloves and wove his fingers through her hair, ostensibly to check for injury, but a faint-but-intoxicating scent of sugarplum made him want to lean closer. As a paramedic, he’d felt the heads of more patients than he could remember, but none of them had the effect that Elizabeth was stirring up now. He tenderly explored her head for a bump, but instead of thinking in medical terms, he found himself noticing the delicate curve of her neck, the soft shell of her ear, the way her quick breath fogged in the bitter cold.

“I didn’t hit my head, Jack,” she murmured.

Her eyes were half-closed in a way that felt like an invitation for him to kiss her.

Jack wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, cradle her face in his hands, and explore the soft contours of her mouth. Instead, he set his jaw and reminded himself—shouted at himself internally, even—that this was Elizabeth Armstrong. As much as he might want her, he couldn’t have her. The weight of their fathers’ secret history hung between them, and Jack didn’t know how to get around it.

“Can I meet your horse?” Elizabeth asked after he’d thoroughly checked her and found her uninjured.

“Of course!” He was pleased she’d asked. “Do you ride?”

“I used to when I was a kid. I love horses.”

“Me, too,” he said. “They’re so much easier than people.”

“That’s for sure.”

As they walked to the barn, he told her about Honest Abe and how he had one blue eye, which was supposed to be a sign of wisdom. She liked that, and when they got to where Charlene stood near the horse, Elizabeth took to Honest Abe like she’d known him forever. As she scratched behind his ears, Jack knew his horse was in heaven. Abe loved having his ears rubbed. His butt, too, but he decided not to mention that to Elizabeth just then.

Jack introduced her to Charlene, who raised her eyebrows and smiled at Jack when Elizabeth went back to nuzzling Honest Abe.

Jack took the reins from Charlene.

“Do you want to help me get him stabled for the night?” he asked Elizabeth.

“Definitely.”

As the two of them walked into the relative warmth of the barn, Jack had his horse on one side of him and Elizabeth on the other, and he was as happy as he’d ever been—until he remembered whose daughter she was … and how she could never be his, even though it felt like she already was.

* * *

The fullness of an Alaskan winter night was upon them by five o’clock when Jack and Elizabeth walked back up to his house. He knew he should thank her for the brownies and let her go on her way.

Instead, he found himself asking if he could take her coat. And then if she’d like to warm up with a drink by the fire.

“I have to get to work, but I can stay for a few minutes,” she said.

So coats came off. Scarves came off. Boots came off, and somehow in the pulling off of boots, they bumped into each other, hip to hip. It was natural as anything for him to take her by the waist and steady her.

He felt the taut curve of her stomach beneath his hand, felt the way she tensed. But instead of pulling away, she stepped closer. Faced him a little more.

I shouldn’t be doing this, he thought.

And Jack made what he considered a valiant effort not to pull her tight against him. Not to put both hands on her tiny waist, so small that he could almost encircle it completely. To ignore the way her face tilted up, inviting him to kiss her.

But when Elizabeth slipped her hands around his neck and gazed up at him, the innocence-yet-knowing … the openness … the welcome kindness in her eyes was too much for Jack to resist. So, too, was the snow-bitten pink of her soft lips.

Like gravity pulling two heavenly bodies together, Jack met her lips. It was a moment of sweet exploration, warm and natural and right. Although the kiss started gently, he couldn’t help pulling her tighter, almost cradling her small body against his, not wanting to break what was precious inside her.

What was going on? What was happening here, that he felt so moved by this woman he’d only just met?

The fact was, he’d worried about her for years.

You know she’s been hurt. You know she’s suffered. And you can make it all go away. You can protect her, treat her well, the way she deserves. Be her happy ending.

More than that, she felt right in his arms, like it was where she was meant to be.

But the last thing Jack wanted to be with her was careless. Elizabeth deserved the greatest of care, and so he moved from her mouth, intending to kiss her forehead and then her cheek—respectful, respectful—but her insistent hands wove their way through his hair, and she pulled his lips to hers again.

The second kiss was different.

When Elizabeth took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then as their tongues entwined, Jack knew there was no use pretending. Hot desire pounded through his body as he kissed her back, a kiss that was insistent and demanding and all the things he’d told himself not to be with Elizabeth. He felt the strength of her heartbeat as she pressed herself against him, and the idea flashed through his head of her soft breasts against his naked chest.

By the quickness of Elizabeth’s breath and the way she tilted her hips against him, Jack knew there was no hiding the fact of his arousal, either.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, powerless against the pull of her lovely lips. He longed for her as he’d never longed for anything in his life. “So wonderful.”

“I think you’re wonderful, too,” she murmured back, issuing pillowy-soft kisses to his jaw before moving to his neck.

It was like being kissed by a butterfly, and Jack felt drunk with lust. Knowing he needed to slow down before things went too far, he pulled back. There was a playful sparkle in her eyes, and it was utterly charming.

Who are you, Elizabeth? he wondered. And why have you appeared in my life? She felt like a gift, but on the other hand, maybe she was his punishment for the role he’d played in her father’s imprisonment. Perhaps she was there to tantalize him but to always be just out of reach—because out of reach she would inevitably run if she ever learned the truth about what Jack’s dad had done to her family, and the role he, himself, had played by remaining silent.  

Jack pulled back from Elizabeth, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his hands off her waist. He might know the circumstances of her father’s imprisonment, but he wanted to know more about her. What did she want from life? What made her laugh? Did she cry at corny commercials and scream at scary movies? What were her hopes, dreams, and fears? Who was she beneath her fragile-tough exterior? He felt a promise of intimacy in the heated air between them, and despite knowing that he shouldn’t, Jack chased it, not wanting to let Elizabeth go.

He was about to suggest that they sit by the crackling fire and continue what had been a near-perfect afternoon. They could order a pizza, share a glass of cognac, and eat the divine-looking brownies that he’d spied on the kitchen counter. But who was he kidding? Jack knew that if Elizabeth stayed much longer, he might bed her—worse, he might fall in love with her.

And if he did either of those things, he’d only end up hurting her.

As if reading his mind, Elizabeth said, “Jack, I should go.”

He removed his hands from her waist and stepped away. “Oh. Right. Of course.” He shifted awkwardly. “I guess you took your coat off for nothing. Sorry about that.”

“That didn’t feel like nothing to me,” she said, her smile tender.

“No, of course not,” Jack said quickly. “I didn’t mean it was nothing. I meant—” He stopped himself from continuing. The connection, the passion, between them felt like everything, and that was the problem.

“It’s just that I have to get to work,” Elizabeth said. “I’m probably late as it is, and Mark, my manager, isn’t the nicest guy in the world.” She took her parka off the hanger. “Help me with my coat?”

She turned her back to him so he could help her on with her coat. There is was again, that intoxicating smell of sugarplum.

“Have you, uh … have you got a scarf?”

“Right at your feet, Jack.”

He stooped to pick it up, feeling flustered, and reached for her knit hat, too. He’d much rather be undressing her than getting her all layered up, but he doubted that would ever happen. As she finished dressing to go back outside, he threw on his coat and boots so he could escort her to her car.

“It this your car?” he asked, not having seen it parked at her house the other day. “Oh, wait, it’s April’s right? I think I’ve seen it in their driveway.”

“That’s right,” Elizabeth said. “She’s a good friend. My oldest friend, too.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before climbing into her vehicle. Jack made sure she was buckled in safely and that the car started.

I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, he thought as he watched her drive away.