3. Marco Hill

I never thought I’d start my week rescuing a pregnant woman stranded in the middle of the road, but there I was, parking my old truck — which, by the way, still ran better than most city cars — right at the entrance of Snowfall Creek Ranch.

Alice sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window with those big blue eyes of hers, like she’d just walked into an amusement park.

The woman was short, blonde, looked like she’d stepped out of a perfume commercial… and had the stubbornness of a mule.

Too pretty for her own good.

Too pushy for mine.

And, to top it all off, she was pregnant.

My mind kept circling the same question — where was the father? Why wasn’t he here? Why wasn’t he taking care of her?

But I pushed the thought away. It wasn’t my business.

God forbid it ever became my business.

As soon as the truck stopped, she let out a quiet, awed:

“Wow…”

“Don’t make that face like you just arrived in heaven,” I muttered, turning off the engine. “It’s just a ranch hotel.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, smiling in a way that somehow brightened the entire evening. “Way more beautiful than I imagined.”

I rolled my eyes.

The last thing I needed was an enchanted guest wanting to hug trees and take selfies with the cows.

I climbed out of the truck and headed to the back to grab her suitcases. I tossed the biggest one to the ground with a loud thump.

“Careful!” she protested, rushing toward me — and still dressed like someone who had taken the wrong flight and ended up here by accident. A floral, flowy dress and high heels. High heels. Who in their right mind travels to a ranch in heels?

“You really thought this place was a city spa?” I asked, pointing at her shoes. “If you step in mud, you’re sinking to the ankle.”

“I didn’t exactly have a manual on what to wear to a… ranch,” she replied, crossing her arms and lifting her chin like she was challenging my bad mood on purpose.

Stubborn.

Petulant.

And beautiful.

Damn it.

“Next time, bring sneakers,” I muttered. “Or boots. Or anything that won’t make you face-plant at your first pothole.”

“And next time, try being a little nicer to pregnant women stranded in the middle of nowhere,” she shot back.

I ignored her. I was already too tired to argue with a guest before she’d even checked in.

I looked around the property.

Snowfall Creek Ranch stretched across acres of land, with pale wooden fences, trails leading to the stables, and a line of cozy cabins. Each cabin had a porch, a rocking chair, and lanterns that, during Christmas, were decorated with warm lights — the kind that made half the guests sigh and the other half tear up with nostalgia.

The main lodge was big, with a wide porch, tall windows, and the slanted roof typical of old Texas architecture. It had been in my family for generations. First my grandfather’s, then my father’s… and now mine.

When my father died, everyone expected me to sell.

They said the world didn’t have space for real ranch hotels anymore.

That big investors would turn this place into a luxury resort.

But I never even considered it.

As long as I was alive, Snowfall Creek Ranch would stay honest.

Respectful to the land, the animals, and the people.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing two of her suitcases and heading toward the lodge. “The front desk is this way.”

She walked beside me, taking quick, short steps. Even tired, even overwhelmed, she kept her head high — like nothing, not the road, not the flat tire, not the grumpy cowboy — was going to knock her down.

We stepped inside.

The reception area was fully decorated for Christmas. My aunt Rosa took holiday season more seriously than any human should. A massive Christmas tree stood in the center, covered in warm lights, red bows, and wooden ornaments handmade at the ranch. Real pine garlands hung from the windows. The smell of cinnamon, pine, and fresh cookies filled the air.

“MARCO!”

Her voice rang behind the counter. She stepped out wearing a red sweater covered in reindeer. “I thought you’d be back only after taking care of the horses!”

“Found this on the side of the road,” I said, jerking my chin toward Alice like she was a lost package delivered to the wrong address.

Alice shot me a death glare.

“‘This’ can speak, you know?” she snapped.

Rosa giggled.

“Welcome to Snowfall Creek Ranch, sweetheart. I’m Rosa — the annoying aunt who controls everything around here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alice said, instantly brightening, like she’d found an actual human after hours of dealing with me. “The place is wonderful.”

“She’s pregnant,” I announced — why, I don’t know. Maybe because the fact kept bouncing around in my head.

Alice looked like she wanted to throw a Christmas ornament at me.

“Thank you for the update, doctor,” she muttered.

Rosa placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll take good care of you, sweetheart. Marco, leave the bags here — I’ll show her to the cabin.”

I nodded, finally dropping the suitcases beside the tree. Relief washed over me at the thought of returning to my quiet routine.

“So… that’s it,” I said, wiping my hands on my jeans. “If you need anything, talk to Rosa. She handles everything.”

Alice offered a small smile.

One of those simple, dangerous smiles that poke at places inside a man he thought were long dead.

“Thank you… for helping me today,” she said softly. “Even if you almost left me on the road.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you,” I muttered, annoyed at myself for explaining. “Just… don’t provoke a tired man.”

Rosa chuckled behind us.

“Go, Marco. You’ve annoyed the girl enough.”

I turned around and left.

Outside, I breathed in the cold evening air and headed toward the employee cabins, farther from the main lodge and closer to the stables. Mine was at the end of the trail — a simple place with a small porch and a view my father had loved.

I stepped inside, kicked off my boots, and let them drop to the floor.

Lit the fireplace — even if it wasn’t that cold, I liked the crackle of burning wood.

Above the mantle, as always, was her photo.

My wife.

Brown hair tied back, crooked smile, glowing eyes.

The woman I’d loved since I was seventeen.

The woman I lost.

At Christmas.

I swallowed hard, brushing my thumb along the frame.

“Another one,” I murmured. “Another Christmas without you.”

The fire popped.

The wind tapped against the window.

And for the first time in a long time…

I felt something shifting around me.

Something I wasn’t ready for.

Something I’d fight with everything I had.

But something that had already begun.