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opened the door of his truck and Mason sprang inside. “I’d love to chat all day,” he said. “But the truth is I’ve got someplace to be.”
    “You’re seeing her, aren’t you? Probably her and that cute kid too.”
    John stared at Mason and shook his head before replying in a singsongy voice. “Good-bye, Carlos!”

    Snow fell lightly as John lifted the toboggan from his truck. They were on a scenic hill, the splendor of the snowcapped countryside around them. Christine ran a gloved hand down the side of the toboggan, admiring the sheen of its wood.
    “She’s a beauty,” she said to John. “Almost like a work of art.”
    He gave her a smile that swept the chill from the bitter wind. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
    “Hang on…” she said with surprise. “Are you saying you made this?”
    “Some time ago. It was one of my first pieces.”
    Christine was impressed. She’d never met a man who’d made a toboggan—or much of anything else—before. “You’ve made others?”
    John positioned the toboggan on the hilltop and looked up. Mason immediately jumped on. “Toboggans, no,” he said. “I figured one was all I needed. But I’ve built other things: bookshelves, tables, and the like.”
    “Tables? Really?”
    “My dining room table in fact.” He studied her thoughtfully. “I’ll have to show it to you sometime.”
    Christine’s cheeks warmed as she dropped her eyes. “I’d like that.”
    John turned his attention on Tyler, waiting eagerly nearby.
    “Ever been on a toboggan, young man?”
    Tyler shook his head.
    “Well then, you’re in for a treat. Hop on!” he instructed, positioning Tyler right behind Mason. Tyler promptly wrapped his arms around the dog, who leaned back to lick his face.
    “Will he be all right?” Christine asked with concern.
    “Sure. You’ll be right behind him, holding on.”
    “And where will you be?”
    “I’ll be hanging on to you.” John grinned and her heart melted.
    Christine warned herself not to get carried away. It was just an outing in the country. But when John settled in behind her and snuggled her and little Tyler securely in his arms, she couldn’t help but blush in his embrace. He was so strong and capable. Though the steep slope ahead looked formidable, Christine had no qualms about her and Tyler heading down it with John.
    “Ready?” he asked, as Christine gripped Tyler.
    “What about Mason?”
    “That old daredevil?” John asked with a laugh. “He’ll be fine!”
    Then they were off, gliding at lightning speed down the snowy white slope.
    “Whee!” Tyler shouted. “Whoohoo!”
    Christine laughed with giddy delight, feeling like a child again herself.
    “What do you think of Vermont?” John asked with a husky whisper.
    The truth was that she loved it. Loved it even more than she could have imagined.
    “It’s perfect,” she said with a happy sigh.
    John hugged them a little tighter and settled his chin on her shoulder.
    “I’m glad.”

Chapter Eight

    A week later, John pulled a blazing marshmallow from the fireplace. Blowing it out, he laid it on a graham cracker held by Christine and loaded with chocolate. She grinned, first at him and then at Tyler. “This will have to be your last,” she said to her son before handing him the squishy treat.
    The boy’s face was liberally dotted with sticky mess. “But, Mom!”
    “She’s right, you know,” John said, backing up Christine. “We wouldn’t want you getting a bellyache. Not so soon before Christmas.”
    Tyler eagerly dug into his s’more while Mason ate his—complete with paper plate, but minus the chocolate—in the corner. John took in the cheery scene, acknowledging he hadn’t had this much fun in months. Heck, maybe even in years. The afternoon spent outdoors with Christine and Tyler had been filled with happy hill rides and gleeful shouts. On the way back to the truck they’d had an impromptu snowball fight, and John had been mightily impressed by