She smiled. Lifted a shoulder. “Just a hobby.” She sat on the worn leather sofa, drew a leg up under her. The firelight flickered on her face, a warm glow. Outside, the snow had thickened, fell harder, turning the world white. He should probably get home before he was stuck here.

He set his coffee down on the coffee table, a beautiful piece of live-edge alder, and sat on a matching worn leather chair. Then he dug into the piece of pie. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.”

“So, did you get your biology degree at the University of Alaska?”

She shook her head. “It never seemed right to leave.”

He frowned. “I always thought you’d be some big-time researcher, written up in Sunset magazine or working for the DNR.”

“I take guiding trips out. But I like it here. And I can’t leave my dad.”

She looked at the fire. “The homestead always needs work. Gardening, canning, raising the dogs, fishing—you know the drill. He can’t run this place by himself. And he’s busy with his wildlife research.” She took another sip. “He still keeps tabs on Elsa. Goes out early in the season, when she wakes up, and gathers hair from her cubs so he can keep their DNA and track them if people bring in kills. He’s tagged a few, too, although he doesn’t like to do that. It affects them, you know. To be wounded and watched. It’s like the bear knows he’s not quite free anymore. Or he’s been forever altered.”

He hated to admit how much he understood that.

The fire crackled, popped.

“Remember when your dad used to make popcorn in the fireplace?” he said.

“He only did that for you, because he knew you liked it.”

“I did.” He sighed. “You ever run the Iditarod?”

She shook her head.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a shame, deep inside him. “So, you’ve just been here, working the homestead, for the past ten years?”

“Is there something wrong with that? Once upon a time, you had the same dream, Dodge. I remember you talking about flying for Sky King Ranch. Why do my dreams have to be grand to be important?”

He held up a hand. “Sorry. I just—”

“I couldn’t run like you did. I had to stay. I had responsibilities and a father who needed me.” She let those last words sit on him.

He drew in a breath, meeting those pretty green eyes, the color of the pine trees. If he looked too long, they could hold him hostage. Yeah, this was a bad idea.

Because in them he saw the dreams they’d both shared.

“Did you get my letters?” she asked.