Remembering that Maddie had a hand in creating these displays, she glanced over at her, curious once again about this woman. She was an artist, a sculptor, like Stuart, and, like them, had grown up in a small town. Maddie bobbed her head along with the Mozart, and the morning sunshine lit up her sandy, wavy hair like a halo. She was, in a word, compelling. But she’d been confusing last night—those digs about Ryann’s clothes had been weird to the point of rudeness.

“Like what you see?” Maddie asked, glancing her way and then back at the road.

“Yes,” she said, then froze, realizing the implication.

Maddie laughed.

“I meant the town,” Ryann said, a little too late.

“Sure you did.”

“No, really! It’s very…cute.”

“Cute, huh?” Maddie asked, squinting at her before winking. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

She knew her face had colored again and wondered how this woman could get under her skin so quickly and thoroughly. Ryann didn’t know how to respond to the flirtation. Erin and Darcy flirting had seemed safe—but they were married. Maddie was something else.

Their car crested a hill, and suddenly snow-capped mountains appeared in the distance before them. A wide space opened on the right as the road curved around what Ryann soon realized was a lake covered in a sheen of white, crystalline snow and ice. All the light posts along the lake were festooned in red and silver garland, lights, and those oversized conversation hearts she’d seen everywhere in town.

“This is really gorgeous,” she said.

“It is, isn’t it? It’s my favorite view in town. I actually took a slight detour so you could see it.”

“Worth it,” Ryann said.

“If you keep heading this way into the mountains, you end up in Estes Park. Ever been?”

“No. I’ve actually never made it to Colorado before.”

Maddie turned her way with her eyebrows up. “Really? Never? Not once since Stuart moved here?”

“Never had the chance until now.”

Maddie returned her attention to the road, her lips turned down a little at the corners. She could explain, but excuses would likely sound pathetic, even to her. Initially, when Stuart had moved here, his visits to New York were his escape. He’d soak up everything he missed about the city in his weekend getaways and then come back here, reluctantly, to live out his time until his next trip. Then, last year, when things had so abruptly changed, and he’d stopped coming to New York, they’d played around with the idea of her coming to Colorado, but in fact, it had never occurred to either of them for her to come here to Loveland. They’d discussed Denver or Aspen.