“Freshly fallen snow…snow…snow,” Noelle played with the lyrics and melody, then placed her palm over the guitar strings, letting out a frustrated growl.

Why couldn’t she get into a writing groove?

Nothing sounded right.

Writing songs had always come easily, but not lately. Lately everything seemed so darn hard.

She leaned back in the leather chair and stared out the window at ice crystals hanging like daggers from the eaves. Cheddar jumped on the arm of the chair and rubbed his head against her leg. She set the guitar against the end table to make room for her fuzzy buddy. She lifted the cat into her lap and rotated him toward the window.

“Look at all the snow. There must be at least two feet. It doesn’t look like I’ll make it over to Mom’s today.”

Disappointed loneliness settled around her heart while Cheddar kneaded his way into a ball on her lap. The sound of water racing through the pipes in the thin cabin walls stopped, announcing Ethan would be down for breakfast shortly. She wished she hadn't said anything about his manly parts. Just thinking about the conversation made her cringe. What had she been thinking? She needed to install a zipper on her mouth.

What was it about him that made her go on and on like a babbling idiot? Every time he was around, she wanted to climb aboard, feel those solid muscles between her thighs, and take a Caribbean cruise.

She stroked Cheddar. “I’m such a fool. Why is it that I'm always attracted to unavailable guys? What’s with me?”

Whether or not he was available didn't matter. Her body reacted like a drunken local to an open Karaoke mic.

She just needed to be more careful.

The house was big enough, so she should be able to avoid him, at least on an emotional level.

She stared out the window at the untouched, romantic landscape. The large spruce trees bent with snow stood sentry along the mountain ridge. The wind caught the snow and sent it swirling into the air. A lone deer grazing on the edge of the tree line popped her head up, listening for movement. Noelle’s heart sang a silent lullaby.

A few minutes later Trapper wandered into the room and settled at her feet. “Hey, old man.” She rubbed his ear, then stroked his head. “This cold weather is hard on old bones, isn’t it? Poor baby.”

“Is everything okay?” Ethan asked from the stairs.

“Trapper’s fine. He’s just a bit stiff.”

“I was talking about you.”

“Sure. I’m fine.” She sat back, but couldn’t manage to strap on her happy face today, even for Ethan. “I’ve been trying to write most of the morning, and nothing is working.”

“Maybe you're trying too hard. Blame it on your muse.”

“If I waited for my muse to wake up and get out of bed, I’d be sitting around twiddling my thumbs for a long time. I need original material. I can’t use my muse not cooperating as an excuse. I must write. Otherwise, I have no chance of making an impression during the audition.”

He walked toward her. “Come on. Let’s go find some inspiration. Since we’re stuck here today, we can at least enjoy the snow.”

Blue jeans hung low on his hips. A blue T-shirt peeked out from under a blue flannel button-down. And the heavenly smell wafting her way spelled trouble. He was a whole stack of blueberry pancakes with creamy butter and cinnamon syrup. If he got too close, she was confident she’d overindulge, and she didn’t need the calorie count.

“I think I’ll pass. I need to get this song written.”

“I'll make you a deal. I picked up bird and squirrel feed while I was in town this week. If you help me load the feeders, when we’re done, we can continue down memory lane. How’s that sound?”

“Are you talking about your song?”

“Yeah.” He shifted uneasily. “I’ll see what I can do to help.”

His rippling jaw muscles told her he expected the discussion to be as much fun as a tooth extraction. She might not be able to write the song, but talking about it might do him a little good.

“Okay. Just give me a few minutes to change, and find my scarf and gloves.”

She tucked Cheddar on the chair beside her and threw back the pinecone print blanket. When Ethan’s eyes brightened with humor, she followed his stare down to the gold double-w on the bright red cotton stretching across her chest.

“What? You don’t like Wonder Woman?”

“I prefer Cat Woman. The skintight black leathers leave a lasting impression on a guy. Then again, Wonder Woman has a golden rope.”

She’d like nothing better than to kiss the smirk right off his face. She rolled her eyes and escaped quickly to avoid doing the one thing she shouldn’t.

Halfway up the stairs, she heard an odd sound, and stepped back a stair to listen. Was that laughter? She waited. Sure enough, she heard it again: an actual chuckle. The sound was a bit rusty, like it hadn’t been cranked over in a while, but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to get away with laughing. Not at her expense. Paybacks were in order.

Ten minutes later, she scooped a ball of snow, packed it tight and let it fly. Bull’s-eye.

He turned. His focus targeted. “Oh, babe, that was the wrong move.”

Babe? Did he just call her babe? She’d show him.

The way his eyes tracked his every move made her want to play. He leaned forward.

Run. She squealed, her heart pounding in time with her feet. A splat on her back knocked her forward, but she used the forward momentum to reach for more ammunition—a tactical error—and lost her balance, tripping face-first in the soft powder.

A hand grabbed her arm, helping her roll over.

“Are you okay?”

She brushed snow off her face. Her skin puckered from the cold, but his gaze could have melted snow. All she could see were his lips, those lips she wanted to feel against her skin. Oh, man, she was in heaps of trouble. She pushed on his chest. “Seriously? It’s just snow. Are all doctors so overprotective?”

He leaned close, breath warming her skin. “Only when there’s a need to be.” He pushed up off the ground and left her stuck in the snow. He whistled for Trapper and headed toward the house, his long strides making it difficult to catch up.

“I was teasing. Would you wait?” she called after him.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. She lifted her feet higher and trudged around him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being with someone who really cares.”

His jaw rippled again. He looked at her, then at the ridge. “Brigitte was the same way. She often accused me of being overly protective. I worked hard to let her find her way, but now I wish I hadn’t.”

Anger bubbled and burned the back of her throat. “I’m not Brigitte. And besides, you can’t protect everyone.”

“Obviously.” He waved her off. “It’s just that Brigitte was spontaneous. She went barreling through life. She was reckless. Fearless.”

“In other words, she was perfect. She was independent, which in turn allowed you to do your work.” She wasn’t needy in ways I’ve been accused of.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He tromped down the driveway toward the tree line where she’d seen the deer earlier. She fell into step beside him.

He glanced at her, then away, letting the silence and air swirl. “The day Brigitte and Callie died, a haulage bus lost its brakes and slammed into several cars. Brigitte saw the accident happen. She apparently left Callie in the car and went to help the victims. She was like that. Always wanting to help others. Giving everything she had to others. She was always pushing limits. Once in a while, she’d try again to give her love to me, but I never let her in. I always held back.”

Noelle slipped her mitten-covered hand into Ethan’s and squeezed. He returned the squeeze, but didn’t let go. They walked in silence for a few more steps.

“I could never let myself be vulnerable. Why, why couldn’t I give them what they needed?”

Noelle ached for the man, the father, the husband, but he needed to take a look inside that locked box. He needed to heal to find his way back. “What happened to Brigitte and Callie?”

He squeezed her hand, hard, and her fingers went numb, but she held on. “A mini-bus slammed into our car and flipped over, hitting Brigitte. Callie was killed instantly. Brigitte lasted three days, but never came out of her coma. I donated her organs. She would have wanted me to.” He hiccupped back a sob. “Traffic in Tanzania is atrocious. I told her to be careful. To never get out of the car. But she never listened.” He kept walking, kicking at the snow to make a path. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t burden you with this.”

“Who says? Besides, it’s not a burden when you share with friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Friends.” He tried out the word like he was trying on a pair of jeans.

“You sound disappointed.”

“No, not disappointed, so much as…”

“Relieved?” She camouflaged the hurt with a smirk. “Don’t worry. I get that you’re not interested. I’m not your type.”

But you’re certainly mine.

His eyes grew dark as the winter storm clouds and he pulled on her arm, turning her toward him. “Don’t you get it? Noelle, I’m protecting you.”

“From what? You?” She scoffed at his sacrifice. He didn’t need to be the defender of her pride. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m doing okay taking care of myself. I’ve been on my own for years. Sure, my life has had its speed bumps, but I’ve managed okay.”

“You’re doing better than okay. You’re going to LA to play in a band, get married, have kids.”

“You’re painting a pretty tidy picture,” she said around her suddenly heavy heart, “but I don’t think you have it quite right.”

“No? Then tell me where I went wrong.”

“I'm the type of girl who wants to believe in fairy tales, but I’m also realistic. Love hurts. I already know that. But I still believe it's better to share a life with a person you care about than never to have loved at all. You may not believe it now, Ethan, but love just happens, and can smack you upside the head. You won't be able to avoid it. One day you’ll wake up and be blissfully happy. Life trades up, remember?”

He didn’t believe her.

The look on his face proved it.

The concept of a second chance at love was too far out there for him to believe.

“And you say you don’t believe in unicorns and fairies.” A harsh underlying current had surged into his tone. “You live in an idealistic world where only positive things happen. I hate to pop your bubble, but truly loving another person isn't all puppies and kittens and kites. Loving someone hurts like hell.”

“You feel that way because you lost Brigitte and Callie, but—”

“Unless you’ve been in love, truly in love, then you have no idea what I’m talking about.” The anger in his voice made her take a step back, but she wasn’t afraid. He didn’t frighten her, he just made her want to shake him.

Her fists tightened into dogged knots of denial.

Doubt swirled in her chest, and she swallowed back her response. Maybe he had a point. Did she really know how love felt? Her dad died before she was even born. She hadn't grown up witnessing the love between a husband and wife. Maybe he was right.

She looked into his eyes. “I may not know what love is, but I won’t stop singing about it, or trying to find it. I believe love is a worthy pursuit, for everyone.”

“Then let’s write a fairy tale.”

She sucked in a breath. “I already told you, I don’t write songs about puppies, kittens, or kites.” She let her bold stride extend as she approached the house.

The buzz in her pocket made her reach for her phone. If it was Jon, she’d gladly give him a piece of advice, but unfortunately it wasn’t. “Hi, Mom. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the café today.” I could have used the money. I need to get out of here.

“Hi, honey. Happy birthday.”

She inhaled a long breath like she was going to blow out candles, but there was no cake or presents, only an irritating, belligerent man lecturing her on the finer qualities of love.

“Is everything okay? Do you have everything you need?”

Her mom always remembered the important things. “A winning lottery ticket would help.” She laughed. “I’ll manage, Mom. I always do.”

“Stay warm. Hopefully the plows will be up your way soon. I’d love to see you, but I think it’s safer if you stay put. I’ll see you tomorrow for Christmas, even if I have to send up a snowmobile. We’ll celebrate your birthday then. Okay, hon?”

“Sounds great, Mom.”

After the age of thirteen, Christmas, birthdays, New Year’s seemed to roll into one. Slipping into her pajamas and cuddling up with Cheddar and a good romantic suspense where the heroine kicked butt and shot the bad guys was sounding more and more tempting.

“Did your brother or sister call?”

Are you kidding? They don’t call unless they need something. And I’m done trying to stay connected with them. “I’m sure they’re busy. They’ll call when they get a chance.”

“I asked them to call. Tell Ethan I’m glad he decided to join us this year.”

“I will.” She wasn’t about to argue with the only person who remembered today was her birthday. “’Bye, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Noelle swiped her thumb across the screen, shoved the phone in her pocket.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yep.” She lifted and dragged her feet through the deep snow toward the house, thinking about Ethan and what he told her.

“What was that about a birthday?”

She shrugged. “Mom’s upset we can’t celebrate today. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

A mass appeared in front of her. She couldn’t stop in time and collided with his chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me today was your birthday?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Birthdays are special.”

Here we go. Frustration bubbled just below the surface. “For an educated man, you seem pretty confused. You don't believe in love, or celebrating holidays, but you believe birthdays are special. Doesn't that strike you as odd?” She held out a hand. “No, don’t answer that. Now I'm being a jerk, and I hate morons. I’m going to take a hot shower and warm up. Then I need to call a few friends.” She took a step, then turned back. “And before your hero gene kicks in, I want you to know I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me. In fact, you don't have to worry about anything at all. I'll be outta here in a few days, and you can go back to ignoring life.”

Her hands were shaking so hard she shoved them into her pockets, took one step, then another, determined to make it to the house before one tear fell.

Who was he to tell her love didn’t exist?

Her father and boyfriend had all abandoned her, not to mention all the guys in between who didn’t last. The last three guys she dated did their best to make her believe she wasn’t lovable—but their opinions didn’t matter. She didn’t need anyone to lecture her about what it was like to hurt.

She was alone. On her birthday. And that just sucked.

Lying in bed that morning, she reaffirmed her commitment to be a successful singer/songwriter, and to live a positive life.

Too bad the good intentions didn’t last.