The Mountain Man's Secret Twins(12)

“Ha,” Bryce said, knocking a bit of dust from a skate. “It might appear that way, but actually, Mrs. Smith, the lady I often work for, gave them to me when I cleaned her house last. They used to belong to her and her husband. But she’s too old to skate now. Has arthritis. I’m sure they haven’t been used in many years.”



Kenzie grasped the old woman’s skates, assessing them. Her feet were perhaps one size smaller, meaning she would have to stuff them with old socks to make them fit. But as she eyed them, holding the skates in her thin hands, she remembered blissful times when she’d skated in the suburbs of Concord alongside her mother and father, back when they’d been happier, when they’d been free of the trials of old age and abandonment.



“Why not,” she said.



In the next few minutes, Kenzie cleaned the plates and wine glasses and Bryce blotted out the fire. Kenzie wrapped herself in her coat, and Bryce leafed through a pile of winter clothes near the door, ultimately wrapping her neck in a knitted scarf.



“You’ve been here 12 years, right?” she asked, tucking her chin beneath the scarf. “Did you knit this scarf yourself? Deep in the forest, you’ve been knitting? All this time?”



“Knitting is a good life skill,” Bryce said, his face stoic again. “Trust me. My stuff keeps me warm. It’s no fashion statement. But again, I don’t see many people.”



Kenzie eyed herself in a crooked mirror near the corner, having to stifle a laugh at how silly she looked in the winter gear. “I look like a marshmallow,” she joked.



“The best-looking marshmallow I’ve ever seen,” Bryce said.



Kenzie blushed at the compliment. She followed him from the cabin, carrying her ice skates close to her chest, and then tucked herself into the passenger seat of his truck. She watched from the inside as Bryce revealed his face and upper body with a single swipe of his long arm over the windshield. The snow fluttered around the vehicle, giving them visibility. He grinned at her from the exterior, pointing up at the sky. As he opened the door, he spoke. “You won’t believe what the stars look like once we get there,” he said. “They’ll be extraordinary.”#p#分页标题#e#



He eased the truck down the driveway, the snow tires crunching through the near foot of snow. He told her he often fished at the lake in the summertime, switching his diet from venison to trout from June to September. Kenzie loved that image of him, wearing Huckleberry Finn-style overalls, his feet in the grass, and his pole in the water.



“Why are you grinning?” he asked her.



“I’m not sure. I think I’m just surprised how this night is going, is all,” she said.



He parked the truck along the side of the road, saying they had about a mile to walk into the forest before they’d find the lake. “It’s really hidden in there. I don’t know many who know where it is,” he told her. “That’s the beauty of it, though. It won’t be tainted. Ever.”



Kenzie popped out of the passenger seat, dropping into the foot of snow below. Her boots immediately disappeared. She felt outside her body, so far away from the person who’d thought an evening at the movies with Austin was romantic. Perhaps Bryce had appeared in her life to show her what living actually meant. But could that be possible, since he hadn’t really interacted with other humans in nearly 12 years?



She couldn’t say, but she didn’t want to dwell on her questions, either. She followed Bryce into the forest, crunching beside him and growing fatigued with each step. “Walking through the snow isn’t easy,” she murmured, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably.



Bryce was walking evenly, as if he walked through the snow all the time. She imagined the muscles of his thighs, flexing and stretching as he moved. He peered down at her curiously, watching her strain. “Do you think you can make it?” he asked.



“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Kenzie said, her breath already staggered. “Mind over matter, right?”



But as the minutes crept by, Kenzie grew slower and slower. Soon she was gasping, leaning heavily upon her knees. She dropped her ice skates into the snow and watched them recede from view. Above them, the stars twinkled between the tops of the trees.



“Come on, let me carry you,” he said.



Kenzie’s ears perked up. “Oh, I couldn’t let you do that,” she said, her voice raspy. “I’m a grown woman.” She hadn’t been carried since she was a little girl, safe in her father’s arms.