The fact it was clearly hard for her to part with would hopefully remind her, too. Even if it did make him feel like a fucking ogre. It was better all around that she think he still wanted to use her paintings as a bargaining chip, that he was still pissed off about her painting him without his permission, even though he wasn’t entirely sure he was anymore.

Better for both of them.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” He thought he detected the slightest wobble in her voice, and he felt absurdly like going to her, but he shut that thought down and locked his knees. Christ—this was not his fault. The woman had bribed him into being her fake boyfriend. This was a bed of her making.

“I won’t be around much the next couple of days,” he said, his voice gruff. “Don’t wait up for me, and don’t count on me being here for dinner.”

“Oh…sure. Okay.”

If anything, her voice sounded smaller the more businesslike he became, and Grady hated himself for his abruptness. But this was his life—there was work to be done. She wanted to pretend to be his girlfriend? Well, this was the reality of being with a rancher. He turned away again, heading for his office.

“Joshua,” she called after him, “be careful out there.”

He faltered momentarily before continuing through the archway.

…

At midday the next day, under a dark-gray sky, Suzanne was standing on the wide sidewalk leading to the four steps in front of the municipal offices waiting for the ice-sculpting competition to get underway. So apparently was half the town, all huddled in their scarves and jackets and boots on this below-freezing day, which was good, at least, for the ice.

There were eight large blocks of it all measuring two foot by two foot by two foot, mounted on tables, and a variety of ice-sculpting tools supplied from chisels to power tools such as angle grinders and small hedge trimmers.

“Not sure this is going to do the job, Ray,” Bob said as he started the trimmer and revved the engine, brandishing it like some kind of weapon. “Chain saw’d be better.”

“Put the damn fool thing down, Bob,” Ray grouched, reaching over to switch off the implement. “You’ve never used a chain saw in your life. You’ll have my ear off waving it around like that.”

“Van Gogh painted Starry Night with only one ear.”

Suzanne suppressed a smile as the two men bickered good-naturedly like they’d been doing it for decades. They were entering as a team, as were three other local couples Suzanne wasn’t familiar with. At the station next to Ray and Bob, where Suzanne stood, was Winona. She was entering by herself.