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Cheyenne.”
    “Do you have any other family?”
    Cara shook her head. “I never knew my dad. My mother was only fifteen when she had me. She left me with Gram and I never saw her again until I was twelve. Gram got word that she died somewhere in Wyoming when I was seventeen.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s all right. When Gram told me the news, it was like hearing about a stranger. But my grandmother’s passing really hit me. That’s when I realized I was all alone and I’d have to figure things out for myself.”
    “Like your book?”
    “Yeah.” Her eyes danced with a sudden light. “Want to see it? It’s really just a collection of my childhood notes and drawings.”
    Before he could answer, she pushed away from the table and rummaged under the pillow of the upper bunk. Turning, she held out a handful of yellowed, lined notepaper.
    As he studied them, Whit looked over at her. “You drew these as a kid?”
    “Yeah.” She turned away. “Pretty silly, right?”
    “Silly? Not at all. You know something, Goldilocks? I’m no expert, but I’d say you’ve got real talent.”
    For a moment she was so stunned by his words that her eyes filled, and she was forced to blink rapidly before turning to him. “That’s what I used to tell myself. And I wanted so badly to prove it. But lately I’ve been thinking that I’ve allowed this foolish childhood dream to take over my life.”
    He caught her hand, sending heat pulsing along her arm. “Dreams are never foolish. They’re what feed our souls.”
    For a moment she was speechless, not only by the fierceness of his words, but also because they touched a place deep in her heart.
    When he released her hand, she wiped furiously at her eyes, surprised that he’d made her cry. “Anyhow, that’s all behind me now.”
    “Hey.” Instinctively he was on his feet and gathering her close. “No tears.”
    His words, muffled against her hair, sent shivers up and down her spine. “They’re not.” She sniffed. “I never cry.” Sensing her battle with her emotions, Whit tipped up her chin. “Of course you don’t. There’s probably a leak in the roof.” With unexpected tenderness, he wiped at a tear with his thumb.
    For the space of a heartbeat she went very still, knowing he was going to kiss her.
    He actually lowered his head before suddenly moving back a space.
    With studied casualness he remarked, “Okay, Goldilocks. You’ve been lazy long enough.”
    “Lazy…” She couldn’t seem to get her bearings. One second he’d been ready to kiss her; the next he was calling her names.
    He touched his rough palms to her cheeks. “I chopped wood and made your lunch. Now it’s your turn to pull some weight around here.”
    She slapped his hands away.
    Pleased, he tossed her a dish towel. “I’ll heat some water over the fire, and I’ll wash while you dry.”
    Her tears, he noted with satisfaction, dried as quickly as they’d started.
    With this woman, he’d take temper over tears any time. Because there was something about this fierce little female, with so many layers of mystery, that did strange things to his heart. And though he could happily tease her all day long, what he really wanted to do was spend his time kissing that gorgeous, pouty mouth.

Chapter Five
    H earing the ping of an incoming text on her cell phone, Cara paused to read it. Her brows knit together, and she swallowed loudly before tucking the phone in her pocket.
    Whit poured hot water from a kettle into a small plastic tub he’d set in the sink. “So, what did you do at Ghost Mountain?”
    “Do?”
    “Your job. At the pricey ski resort.”
    Cara was silent for so long, he figured he’d overstepped his bounds.
    When she finally spoke, the words were strained, as though she were fighting to remain emotionless.
    “I started out as a waitress.”
    “You quit college?”
    She shook her head. “I got through. Barely. But I had so much student loan debt, I was taking every job I could just