LITMIR.BIZ

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inches, causing his heart to jump against his chest. His rubber-soled boots took hold on a dry spot on the roof and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

      “You best be careful, son,” Dodge, his white-haired father, called up to him. “Or you’ll be sittin’ out Christmas in traction if you fall off that there roof. ’Sides, that girl’s been citified. No tellin’ how she’s gonna react to you, much less her old homestead. Now you get yourself down here in one piece, ya hear?”

      “I will,” Travis hollered, as he oh-so-carefully tried to maneuver closer to his ladder at the edge of the roof. And darn it all, he was determined to make it down one rung at a time before she walked into the front door of the three-story inn.

      * * *

      DREAM WEAVER INN had loomed out in front of Bella for the last mile, giving her ample time to adjust to seeing it again. Despite the tightness she felt in her chest, the lump in her throat, and the tears she rapidly blinked away, she reminded herself the sight of the inn merely represented another business deal.

      Nothing more.

      At least that was the mantra she repeated in her head.

      The inn sat like an anchor at the edge of town with its pitched roof, redbrick chimney, and three stories of Victorian elegance, the absolute perfect inn for TransGlobal Corporation to add to their string of historic inns across the country. She had brokered several inns for TransGlobal during the last year, and it only made sense that her father’s inn would be one of them. And if her father hadn’t insisted that she show up in person with the paperwork, she could’ve had the deal sewn up a month ago. Right now she would have been lying on a Florida beach spending some of her commission on fine hotels, expensive wine and gourmet meals, and celebrating her promotion instead of stuck in her old hometown for the next twenty-four hours.

      A town she couldn’t seem to shake out of her memory.

      A town that was holding her back from accepting the promotion at the company she worked for in Chicago.

      And most of all, a town where the boy she’d crushed on when she was a kid still held a piece of her heart.

      Before she’d left Chicago, she and her shrink had discussed how she would get through seeing the inn, her dad and old friends by concentrating on the task at hand: getting her dad’s signature on the bottom line. She’d started seeing a psychologist soon after her mom had died, to help her through the tough times. And recently she’d seen her a few more times to learn some coping skills to deal with seeing her hometown, a place that she still carried a torch for.

      Not that she had any intention of acting on those burning feelings.

      She knew exactly what she wanted: the corner office at Ewing Inc., which was all but hers. She only needed to complete this million-dollar sale and the CEO position would be hers. Bella was the best man for the job. The board of directors knew it. Her contemporaries knew it. And the retiring CEO knew it. All she had to do now was convince that pesky country heart of hers, a task she’d somewhat accomplished...at least eighty percent of the way. The other twenty percent dripped nostalgia and never wanted to leave Idaho.

      She’d come to the conclusion that the less time she spent in Briggs, the better for everyone concerned, especially since it was a week before Christmas, a holiday she’d grown to dislike more than potatoes, and she absolutely loathed potatoes.

      Catching an earlier flight into Idaho Falls had been her idea and a good one despite her shrink’s caution against it. That way, she could get the papers signed early in the day and drive out of town that evening before her dad had a chance to invite her to a Christmas gala of some kind, which she knew the town would have plenty.

      Renting the four-by-four had been another sound decision, considering the weather. If there was one thing Bella understood after living in Chicago for the past fifteen years, it was how to deal with winter. When she’d looked up the predicted weather conditions in Briggs, she knew instantly that anything less would never give her the traction she needed for the frozen roads. Bella prided herself on always being prepared no matter what the situation.

      Pulling her rig up to the curb, she immediately spotted her dad standing on the shoveled sidewalk in front of the hideously decorated inn. She couldn’t believe he still put up that old Santa and reindeer across the roof. She sighed. It would have to come down and be sold or disposed of before TransGlobal Corporation took ownership. If her father couldn’t manage it, well, she’d have to hire someone from town.

      A cowboy stood next to giant N-O-E-L letters that she vaguely recognized from her childhood, with a young boy standing next to him, and another older cowboy who looked familiar standing up on the wraparound porch.

      Taking a deep, calming breath and slowly letting it out she turned off the ignition, and slid out of the truck, grabbing her briefcase on the passenger seat. Her bag could stay in the truck. She most certainly wouldn’t be spending the night.

      “You’re a mighty fine sight for these sore eyes,” her father said as she quickly walked toward him, careful not to slip on the snow in her new designer boots. She’d hate it if she did something stupid in such an awkward situation.

      “Hi, Dad,” she said as she reached out and gave him a quick hug. He still looked ruggedly handsome in his fraying jeans, gray parka and black cowboy boots. He still had that familiar scent of musky spices that she’d always loved on him.

      She pulled away almost as soon as her face touched his rough cheek, resisting the urge to linger in his embrace. She’d been video-conferencing him from time to time in the past few years, but she’d only seen him in person four times since she and her mom had left Briggs. Each time it had gotten more and more difficult for her to say goodbye.

      “Honey, you remember Dodge Granger,” her dad told her once they parted. She immediately recognized him and memories of him, his ranch, his barn and his sons all came rushing back.

      She quickly pushed them aside.

      He went to hug her, but, afraid his bear hug would instantly rekindle their friendship she stuck out her leather-clad hand instead. His big, ungloved hand encircled hers and she instantly felt the warmth of his good nature. She missed men like Dodge, genuinely kind and always willing to help. She was certain hugging the man would melt her resolve, like icicles in sunshine.

      “Nice to see you again, Mr. Granger,” she told him taking a step back, hoping some distance would help.

      “No need to be gettin’ so formal, Bella,” he said. “Dodge is just fine.”

      His gruff voice surrounded her memories like a warm blanket. She’d always liked being around Dodge. He’d taught her how to rope before she could ride a horse.

      “Dodge it is.”

      “I’m sure you remember his son Colt,” her dad said.

      Colt tipped his hat, and held out a hand. He wore a friendly grin that she was sure could charm a girl right into his bed. He looked nothing like the tall, skinny boy she remembered, a boy who needed to grow into his big ears. He had that sexy cowboy look going on that worked on most women her age. Fortunately, not on her. She’d learned to prefer a man in a tailored suit rather than a man in jeans and cowboy boots.

      “Hope the drive over wasn’t too bad,” he said, while standing next to a young boy.

      “It was fine, thanks.”

      He patted the boy’s head, mussing up his hair, and the child tried to move away from his touch. Colt grabbed him and the boy squealed with delight.

      “This ornery little man is my son Joey.”

      Joey sucked in his laughter and held out his hand for her. She’d never met a child with real manners. This was a first. She took his small hand in hers. His grip was firm and confidant, better than some executives she’d met.

      “Nice to meet you, Ms. Biondi,” Joey said while looking into her eyes.

      “You, too,” she answered, giving him a

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