Free Mail-Order Millionaire by Carol Grace

every night that week and it felt strange to have someone with her. A shiver of anticipation went up her spine. Or was it just the cold night air?
    “Normally I’d hitch up the horses, but it’s too late,” she explained.
    “For them or for you?” he inquired.
    “Both of us. They’re old and tired, but I love them. And I couldn’t do without them. Tomorrow we’ll bring them out, you’ll see—” She broke off. Had she really said, “Tomorrow you’ll see?” Tomorrow he’d be gone. She hoped he hadn’t noticed her slip of the tongue.
    At the first maple he unhooked the full plastic bucket before she could, set it on the sled and replaced it with an empty one. All with seeming effortlessness, as if he’d lived on a maple sugar farm all his life. They moved on to the next tree, but this time she made the first move. After all, this was her farm and it was her job.
    “This is amazing. You put a hole in a tree and out comes pure maple syrup,” he said, watching her.
    “Not quite. First you have to choose the southern exposure that yields the most sap. And it takes forty gallons of sap to make one gallon of syrup.’’
    “Is that what you were doing in the shack, turning sap into syrup?”
    “Yes, while you were out throwing snowballs at my nephews.”
    “Those kids are ruthless. I had to defend myself. Good thing you came out and rescued me.” He took one of the ropes out of her hands and together they pulled the full sled across the snow toward the shack.
    “Sorry I couldn’t rescue you from my sister.”
    “Your sister?” He slanted a glance in her direction. “I take it she wasn’t supposed to invite me here tonight.”
    “No, that’s not it.” Miranda jerked her end of the rope. “She can invite whoever she wants... but I’ll bet she didn’t give you a chance to say no. When she puts her mind to something, she never quits.”
    “That’s funny. That’s what she said about you, that you were very determined. It must run in the family.”
    Miranda smiled and pulled the door to the shack open. “You could say that.” The twenty-gallon galvanized wash-tub was already on the stove, so they filled it with the sap, bucket by bucket, waiting and watching for it to come to a boil in silence. “I love her dearly,” Miranda said at last, “but...”
    “But you don’t want her meddling in your life. Especially your love life.”
    “I don’t have a love life,” She leaned over the tub so he wouldn’t see the flush that rose to the top of her head. “That’s the problem. Her problem, not mine,” she corrected quickly.
    “Of course,” he agreed. “Anyone can see you’re the independent type.”
    “Thank you.” She looked up and gave him a sharp glance. Wasn’t that the same word she’d used to describe him to Ariel?
    “She looks happy. Maybe she just wants to see you married so you can be as happy as she is.”
    Miranda gripped the lid on the evaporator. “That’s exactly what she wants. How did you know?”
    “Just a lucky guess.”
    “The point is—” she set the lid down with a clatter “—that, among other things, I came back from New York to get away from men, or a certain type of man that I saw too much of there, and so far I’ve succeeded nicely. Now if I could only be as successful at making this farm pay its way...”
    “Everything would be perfect.”
    She nodded vigorously. Strange how she’d never realized that blue eyes could be just as warm and understanding as brown, maybe more.
    “What happened in New York?” he asked, leaning back against the rough-edged wooden table.
    She sighed. “What didn’t happen? I was mugged, harassed and burglarized.”
    “So you came back to Northwood.”
    “Yes, and I’ve never regretted it. It’s just...” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I get so tired.” Before she could open her eyes she felt his arms around her, holding her steady, offering comfort, understanding and maybe more. For a brief moment