Страница 11 из 70
Daar stepped back. “They’re all grown up and following their own paths,” he said, nodding furiously. “But I…I’m still invited to their birthday party, aren’t I? I’ve made a gift for each of them.”
“Ye may come to their birthday party,” he conceded. “I’ll let Robbie MacBain know when Grace and I decide to speak with Winter. Until then, ye tend yer tree and try to find out if it’s truly Cùram de Gairn we’re dealing with.”
Daar nodded furiously, his hands clasped together in front of him. Greylen gave him one last warning glare, then turned his horse and headed back down the mountain.
Damn it to hell. He dreaded his upcoming conversation with Grace.
Chapter Five
I nstead of stopping at the barn upon returning from her visit with Tom, Winter continued on through the thick stand of evergreens that separated her family home from the TarStone Ski Resort. As she guided Snowball across the nearly full parking lot and headed toward the hotel, she noticed that most of the license plates were from states south of New England.
“The leaf-peepers have arrived in full force,” she told Snowball, reining him around a car of tourists backing out of a parking slot. “I hope Megan got the gallery opened early.” As she rode under the stone and cedar canopy of the hotel entrance, she said, “Good morning, Paul. Only two more weeks of this craziness, then we’ll have a short break before the snows come and the skiers arrive.”
“I like it when it’s busy,” the porter said as he took hold of Snowball’s bridle and smiled up at her. “The tourists can be entertaining at times.”
Winter slid down off her horse and patted Paul’s arm as she headed inside. “No need to park him in the valet lot this morning,” she said with a laugh. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“There’s a guy named Gregor waiting for you in the lobby,” Paul told her just as she slipped through the huge glass door.
Winter immediately spotted her target and came to an abrupt stop. Matt Gregor stood with his back to her, studying the large mural of TarStone she’d painted six years ago, which covered the lobby wall all the way up to the balcony co
Saints and curses, the man was even more imposing than she remembered. She could fit ten of her galleries in the three-story lobby, and Matt Gregor still seemed to take up the entire space. Yet the several dozen people milling about were acting as though the most gorgeous man to set foot in Pine Creek didn’t even exist. Were they all blind? Or was she the one blinded by that confounding chemistry her papa had been rumbling about this morning?
Matt Gregor suddenly turned to face her, his sharp golden eyes immediately locking on hers.
Winter stood rooted in place, the people having to step around her to exit, and tried to figure out how she was going to spend even one day with this man without making a complete fool of herself.
“You’re late,” he said from less than three paces away, his silent strides making short work of the large lobby. He stopped in front of her, also oblivious to the chaos around them as his deep, piercing gaze continued to hold her captive. “I’ve been waiting almost an hour.”
“I had to tend a sick pet this morning,” Winter said without apology, deciding that if she didn’t quickly get the upper hand with this man—or at least get on equal footing—she might as well just throw herself at him right here in the lobby, right in front of God and the tourists. “And I had to visit a friend I’ve been neglecting. But I’m here now, Mr. Gregor,” she continued when he started to say something. “To tell you that I’ll take your commission, but with a few stipulations.”
He folded his arms over his chest and lifted one dark brow. “And those would be?” he asked ever so softly.
She already knew quite a lot about Matheson Gregor, Winter realized. Such as his body language, which said he got a bit impatient—if not downright irritated—when things didn’t go his way or run on his schedule. Nor did he seem to care to have the conversation directed by someone else. Well, he was going to like her stipulations even less.
“We’ll explore your mountain together,” she told him, “but we’ll always have a third person along with us.”
Both of his brows dropped into a frown, his eyes narrowing at what she was implying.
“And,” she continued before he could comment, “I’ll pick three or maybe four sites for you to choose from, but my sister, Megan, can veto any or all sites if they’re unacceptable.”
His frown deepened. “Megan? Is she also an artist? I’m hiring you, Miss MacKeage, not a committee.”
Winter merely smiled. “You might want to rethink that, Matt,” she said, hoping that using his first name would help counter some of that imposing presence the man exuded like elixir. “Megan is a wildlife biologist, and it defeats the purpose of coming to the wilderness to build a beautiful home if you end up destroying that wilderness while you’re at it. I’ve heard there’s a deer yard someplace on Bear Mountain, and there are delicate habitats you need to work around. Megan can help you navigate the environmental regulations, and she can ensure that your house and the road to your house are both environmentally friendly and legal.”
As she suspected, Matt Gregor might fancy the notion of an artist choosing the location of his home, but he didn’t much care to have someone actually telling him what he could and could not do.
“What’s a deer yard?” he asked.
“It’s where the deer gather together to survive the harsh winters. It’s usually the same sheltered spot every year, with plenty of feed so they don’t have to expend a lot of valuable energy trekking through deep snow. Some yards can hold over a hundred deer, and building a road through one, or even close to one, could be devastating to the herd.”
“And your sister, Megan, can get around these regulations?”
“No. She can make sure you don’t harm the wilderness just so you can have a pretty view out your front window,” Winter said calmly, not caring that she was further irritating him. Actually, she was finding the notion rather invigorating. “We’ll head to Bear Mountain this afternoon,” she told him.
That imposing brow rose again.
“So you have time to do some shopping at Dolan’s Outfitter Store,” she continued before he could comment. “Business suits are not exactly horseback riding attire.” And again, before he could say anything, Winter spun on her heel to head back outside.
But the lobby door refused to open. Winter looked down and saw a large, familiar hand holding it closed at about the same time she felt the heat of his body all but surrounding hers.
“Is there a reason we’re not taking my truck?” he asked softly, his breath moving wisps of her hair.
“You have a truck? I thought you flew in,” she said, without moving an inch.
“I bought a truck and had it delivered yesterday.”
She finally turned her head to look at him, refusing to step out of his loose embrace. “If you want a true feel for the land, you need to see it on horseback.”
Someone pulled on the lobby door, trying to get in. Matt Gregor let go, stepped back, and Winter slipped out past the people coming in. She took Snowball’s reins from Paul and lifted her left foot for him to help her mount.
But instead of her foot being grabbed, two large hands spa
“Megan and I will be here at two,” she said before he could speak. “And dress warmly. We likely won’t be home until after sunset.”