She had a good year…a peaceful year. Who would have thought such a profound life change could be so simple? But, under all that snow, the world was quiet. Marcia graciously introduced her to a wide circle of friends. They were largely city-folks who forsook the rat race for a life at eight thousand feet. Bankers and businesspeople turned ski instructors and chefs, they were thoughtful folks who kept her smiling through Marcia’s weekly potlucks. She’d been content…mostly. Until the snow melted…

What was dinging?

She caught the smell of caramelizing sugar. The second batch of muffins! She completely forgot them already. Out of the oven and onto the trivet they went. Jeez. She just couldn’t focus on anything.

Up to her elbows in soapy water, she cringed when a knock on the door tapped into her consciousness. Marcia’s latest email remained unanswered. Her column was two days late.

The knock came again, more firmly.

She dried her hands on her apron and grabbed a muffin. “Marcia, I’m coming. I haven’t written a word, but you’ve got to try a blueberry muffin. It’s my mother’s recipe.” She flung open the front door.

And she very nearly passed out.

He wore faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt, his old boots, and a pinched cowboy hat. His hair was shorter, and his skin even more tanned.

In his face was a freedom she’d never seen. In his eyes breathed the open road. In his hands was a bouquet of wildflowers.

His lips lifted in a crooked grin. “I’d love a muffin. Thanks.”

Jonas.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She blinked once…twice. He didn’t disappear.

He held out the flowers. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Releasing a breath she held almost a year, she fell into his arms, knocking the hat clear off his head. A rainbow of flowers scattered at her feet. She buried her face in cottony softness and nestled her head in the hollow beneath his chin. After a long, lonely winter dreaming about him, she could feel him, warm and solid in her arms. She closed her eyes and breathed his scent—recognizable but changed, infused now with fresh mountain air and pinesap.

He was just Jonas—just one man alone in the world, and she knew with absolute certainty, suspenders or no, she loved him. “How did you find me?”

“I came to Colorado and looked.”

His voice rumbled in his chest, vibrating her cheek. He looked? A breathy laugh whooshed from her lungs, ricocheting off her ribs as she snuggled closer. “But how? Where?”

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted up her face.

She’d almost forgotten how tall he was, and she’d never seen him with the perfect dusting of scruff. Her stomach pulled. She wanted to kiss every inch of it.