Samara paused at the bottom of the steps and took several deep breaths of the icy air. The snow flurries had stopped, but from the look of the heavy, gray clouds, it was only a matter of time before it began to fall again. What was crazy was that it had been almost eighty degrees a few days ago.
A shiver ran through her body. She balanced the coffee in the crook of her arm and pulled her heavy, insulated leather gloves out of her coat pocket, slipping them on. She took a sip of her coffee, her thoughts on the good-looking man, and began walking toward the barn.
The guy’s accent ruled him out as a local. She wondered if he was Hispanic. She spoke a little Spanish thanks to taking four years of it in high school and working with the ranch hands who came by the garage, but that didn’t feel
