Travis Montgomery shut the motel door softly so as not to wake anybody in the other rooms. He’d spent many, many nights in places like this one and there was nothing worse than somebody letting a door slam in the middle of the night or early in the morning when he didn’t have an early call.

He’d slept fairly well for being on the road—although it had been quite a while, he had a thousand motel nights behind him, it felt like—and he’d been ready to finish the last leg to his destination before the sun came up. He’d showered and hopped around a bit on the cold floor, considering actually wearing two pair of pants as he watched his breath mist.

When Mr. and Mrs. Weston had asked him to drive their new truck back to someplace called River’s End Ranch, he hadn’t given much thought to what the weather might be like in Idaho at Christmastime. Heck, he’d been happily warm in Florida since the race season had ended and had grabbed the warmest clothes he could find when he’d set out on this favor—but he could already tell he’d need some warmer ones if he wanted to stay for more than a day or two—and then what would he do with warm clothes back in Florida?

Maybe he’d just fly straight back after delivering the truck to the ranch. But that hadn’t been the original plan. He still had a few weeks before he needed to be back, and he really did want to see River’s End Ranch.

He reached into his pocket and his fingers curled around the letter Mrs. Weston had given to him to deliver with the truck. He’d spent a fair amount of time with the folks as he’d helped his buddy work on their motorhome, and gotten to know them a little bit. He knew they had six kids who ran the ranch, and he’d smiled as he’d listened to their stories while the sunset turned the Florida clouds purple and pink and the water lapped against the sand. They clearly loved their ranch and their family, and when they’d asked if he might be willing to drive their truck out as their motorhome wasn’t big enough to tow it, he thought it might be interesting to see some different scenery for a bit. Mountains instead of waves might be a nice break.

But the snow—that had surprised him for some reason and he blew into his hands as he shut the door of the Dodge Ram and turned the heater on full blast. He turned on the windshield wipers and frowned for a minute as the rubber blades just slid over the ice crystals, not doing a darn thing. Same thing as last night after he’d left the restaurant and was turning into the parking lot of the motel—shoot, he’d almost caused an accident because he couldn’t see out the windshield. He chuckled as he thought of the irony—race car drivers were supposed to avoid accidents, not cause them, and he wished he could apologize to whoever the person was he’d cut off. Professional courtesy, if nothing else.

Not wanting to take that chance again, he got out of the truck and pulled a credit card from his wallet. He stood on the step of the truck and scraped the ice off the windshield until he had a bit of a bare patch on the glass and his hands were red and stiff.

His fingers weren’t quite so numb as he pulled out onto the highway, gripping the steering wheel in one hand and his cell phone in the other. The sun was just peeking over the mountains and he imagined those very same mountains were the reason why he wasn’t getting any cell service and therefore no map. He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and remembered that he’d checked before he left the motel, and it was a pretty straight shot. He decided to just enjoy the scenery and trust that there’d be a sign that would guide him to River’s End Ranch.

“Ha,” he said out loud as he spotted the sign to River’s End Ranch, and had just sped past it when he did a double-take. He’d thought maybe it had been a bear on the sign, but he hadn’t gotten a second look and as he turned onto the road that the arrow had pointed to, he wondered if it had been Bigfoot on the sign and not a bear. No, that would be too weird, even for Idaho.

He winced as he took the last sip of the horrible coffee he’d made at the motel and instinctively started searching for more—and hopefully something more decent. He pulled through the ranch gates and spotted Kelsey’s Kafe, with parking in front. He’d never met a diner he didn’t like, or one that didn’t have great coffee. It was early still, and the person he was supposed to deliver the truck to—Daniella, if he remembered correctly—might not even be around. And he’d driven long enough that it could wait a little bit longer, certainly long enough for him to get a decent cup of coffee and breakfast to go with it.

His deck shoes slid off the step of the truck as he got out, and continued sliding on the ice in the parking lot. He felt like a hockey player in regular shoes on the ice and he pulled himself along on the rail beside the diner until he made it to the wooden steps, laughing as he jumped onto the first one and got his balance.

“Well, that was entertaining,” a pretty—and pregnant—waitress said with a smirk as he entered the cafe.

“Yeah, I bet,” he said as he pushed his ball cap back up on his forehead. “It would appear I am not properly equipped for the weather here in Idaho.”

The pretty girl laughed and peered around him, looking out the window to the truck. “Florida, eh?” she said as she gestured to the plates on the truck. “That explains a lot. If you’re going to hang around here, maybe some boots would be a good idea.”

She lifted the pot of coffee toward him with her eyebrows raised and he nodded, taking the stool closest to the door so he wouldn’t slide more on the floor.

“So, what brings you to our neck of the woods?” she asked as she filled his mug.

“Actually, I’m here to deliver something. That truck, as a matter of fact. The owner of the ranch asked me to drive it up.”

His mug stopped halfway to his lips as the pretty waitress’s eyes grew as big as saucers.

“The owners? Drive it up from where?”

He looked down the counter and noticed that a pretty older lady and the gentleman she was with had stopped talking and stared in his direction. A couple at the end of the cafe kept talking, but he’d definitely said something that was a conversation stopper.

“Um, yeah. Mr. and Mrs. Weston. From Florida. Here, I have a note.” He fumbled in his pocket for the letter Mrs. Weston had handed him and pulled it out, smoothing it on the counter. “I’m supposed to give it to her personally, she said.”

The waitress leaned over and read the name upside down, and she looked up from the letter and searched his face. She had the most beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen—like blue ice, clear and sharp.

She cocked an eyebrow and smiled, looking down the counter toward the older couple. The older woman leaned forward and stared at him for a moment and whispered something to her companion before she wrapped her scarf around her neck and scurried out of the cafe, nodding and smiling at him as she passed.

“I need to go home and talk to the...check on something lickety split, Kelsi. Simon will pay the bill,” she said as she headed out the door.

“Kelsi?” he asked, and the name rang a bell. “Oh, you’re Kelsi Weston?”

The waitress laughed and shook her head. “Well, I was, but I’m Kelsi Clapper now. And this,” she said as she rubbed her belly, “is Sophronia.”

Travis nodded slowly. He’d never heard that name before, Sophronia, but he guessed it was as good as any other. Just a name.

“Nice to meet you,” he said as he stood. He held out his hand, and she took it and smiled. “So you’re Daniella’s twin.”

The woman stifled a laugh behind her hand as she nodded. “Yes, I’m Daniella’s twin.”

“Oh, great,” he said as he looked at the menu. “Maybe after I have some breakfast you can tell me where I could find her. I need to deliver the truck and the letter.”

Kelsi cleared her throat and leaned forward, looking to the far end of the restaurant. “I can tell you exactly where to find her.”