Maybe This Christmas (10 page)

She understood him.

She understood it wasn’t ambition that drove him, but a love of speed. The media accused him of being ruthlessly competitive and he was, but she knew the person he was competing against was himself. She’d spent hours alone on the mountain with him, watching him tackle new routes, seemingly impossible angles and slopes. As he’d pushed himself to the limit, she’d been the only witness.

Pulling a warm fleece over her pajamas, she walked down the curving staircase that led to the ground floor and was about to make herself another cup of tea when she saw him standing in the door.

For a moment she wondered whether her mind had conjured him, but then she saw him smiling and pointing to the snow.

Wishing she were wearing something other than pajamas, she walked across and opened the door. A blast of ice-cold air almost knocked her off her feet, and she snuggled deeper into the fleece. “Is something wrong? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Nearly dawn, and we need an early start if we’re going to get first chair.”

First chair?
“You want to ski?”

“Have you seen the snow? Take a look over my shoulder.”

“I already did.”

Later the air would be filled with the shrieks of happy, excited children but for now Snow Crystal was enveloped in that strange, eerie silence that always followed a heavy snowfall.

“It’s a perfect powder day.”

“Yeah, and before we devote it to other people, I thought we should take time for ourselves. An early Christmas present. Time to head to the office, Ms. Daniels, before the rest of the world arrives. Get dressed and let’s go ride some powder.” His eyes were a lazy, sleepy blue, the only color in a world that had turned white overnight, and she stood for a moment, mesmerized.

“Now?”

He gestured with his head. “There is three feet of untracked snow out there waiting for us. You should already have your feet in your boots.”

She knew plenty of locals, civilized people at all other times, who would kill each other to be first on the four-person chairlift up the mountain on a day like today. “There will be a line for first tracks.”

“All the more reason not to hang around. I’ll give you two minutes to get dressed.” He was wearing a hat pulled down low over his forehead, and his hands were thrust into the pockets of his coat. Judging from the stubble shadowing his jaw, he hadn’t wasted time shaving. His smile was sure and confident and she wondered if any woman had ever said no to him.

Awareness dragged low in her stomach. “We have a full day of work ahead.”

“All the more reason to make the most of the next few hours. Or you could go back to bed and have another hour of sleep if that’s what you prefer.” The gleam in his eyes told her he knew the answer to that.

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“I never had to work this hard to persuade you when we were teenagers. I smuggled you out of your window more than once.”

“That was a long time ago!” A lifetime. Before Janet. “We’re adults now. Responsible.”

“Too much responsibility is bad for a person. I’ll be responsible after 8:30 a.m. The whole mountain will have been messed up by then anyway, but for now I’m on my own time. Come on.” His voice was deep and persuasive. “If I have to spend my day skiing with people who don’t know a ski pole from the North Pole, the least you can do is let me have some fun with you first.”

Élise would have used that as an opening. Élise would have flirted, or maybe even dragged him over the threshold and back to the bed that was still warm from her body.

Maybe she should try.

“You could come in for a while,” she said casually, and he frowned.

“What would be the point in that? You haven’t turned into one of those women who takes ages to get dressed in the morning, have you? I remember you once pulling your ski pants on over your pajamas. I’ll wait here while you change.”

She felt the color rush into her cheeks.
How were you supposed to flirt with a man when he didn’t even know you were flirting?

“Why me?” Her voice was a croak. “You could have skied with your brothers.”

“Too complicated and anyway,” his tone was ultra casual, “I enjoy skiing with you.”

It was the one thing they shared. The one thing she had that other women didn’t.

The ability to keep up with him.

“I’ll be out in two minutes.”

He gave a slow, sexy smile. “Make it one minute. We need to make the most of the quiet time. God knows there’s little enough of it round here with visitor numbers increasing.”

She understood, because she felt the same way. Like Tyler, she’d always rather be outdoors than indoors. “Where’s Jess?”

“She slept overnight at my mother’s. They were stocking the freezer for Christmas. There’s a strong chance school will be canceled this morning, and if it is, I’ll ski with her later. If not, Mom will take her to school. Now hurry up and get dressed before the rest of the village beats us to it.”

Trying not to read anything into the invitation, Brenna dressed quickly in her ski gear, grabbed what she needed for the day and joined him outside.

He drove to the base of the quad lift that carried four people at a time up the mountain. It had been replaced a few years previously, and the new lift had fewer problems with the ice and cold weather.

It was still dark and, despite her predictions, they were the first skiers on the lift.

Tyler brushed the snow from the seat, and Brenna settled next to him on the chair, her thigh pressing against his. They sat in silence, enjoying the slow glide of the lift as it carried them smoothly up the mountain. From here she had an aerial view of winter perfection. She looked down at the trees and narrow trails, mentally plotting a route, trying not to think about the pressure of his leg against hers.

It was bitterly cold, and she snuggled deeper inside her jacket, her shoulder resting against his.

How many times had they done this? Sat side by side watching the sun rise over the ridge, the light dazzling and dancing over the untouched surface of new snow, the ice crystals sparkling under the warm blue of the winter sky.

As they skied off the lift and paused at the top, Tyler turned to her. “Glad you didn’t stay in bed?”

“Yes. I love the way the forest feels after snow.” No possession, nothing she’d ever owned, could be this beautiful or give her the same kick of excitement as nature did when she shone light down on the mountains and forest. “This is perfect.” And being with him made it all the more perfect.

It was because she was thinking about him and not concentrating that she caught an edge and landed flat on her back.

“Oh, crap.”

Laughing, he skied over to her. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you fall.” As she struggled to sit up, he reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Savoring the moment. And gathering photographic evidence.”

“Don’t you
dare.
”

“I’m kidding.” Still laughing, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, reached out and hauled her to her feet.

Her ski tangled with his, and he slid slightly and clamped her hard against him to stop them both falling.

She rested her hand on his shoulder to steady herself, looking first at his jaw, then at his mouth and finally his eyes.

Serious eyes, all suggestion of laughter gone. “All right?”

“I’m good.”

His gaze held hers for a moment, and then he released her, disentangled their skis and turned toward the trees.

For him, the moment had passed but her mind, her memory, was full of moments like this. His name wasn’t just carved on a tree somewhere, it was carved in her heart.

She stood still, watching him move fluidly through the deep snow. He made it look effortless and easy as only an expert could.

It didn’t matter whether he was bombing from the top to the bottom in a World Cup downhill, floating through deep snow or arcing on groomers, he was the best. A supreme athlete, in tune with his surroundings. In a sport where the difference between winning and coming in second was the matter of a hundredth of a second, he had been right at the top of the game.

She followed as he took a route through three feet of perfectly layered snow, instinct and local knowledge helping him find the perfect path through the deep powder. He was a skilled, aggressive skier, attacking the slopes with no visible signs of fear, regardless of the conditions. She heard him whoop as he executed a run of smooth, perfect turns, gliding through the snow with fluidity and rhythm. She followed as he swooped down into the glades, and they weaved through snow-sculpted trees, their branches misshapen and heavy from the weight of their winter load. The only sound was the whisper of skis and the soft thud of snow falling on snow as they wound their way through hardwood forest toward the main part of the resort.

Eventually, he paused, and she stopped next to him in the clearing, her cheeks stinging from the cold, her breath clouding the air.

“That was incredible.” The early morning sun danced across the surface of the new snow, and ice crystals sparkled like spilled sugar. High in the trees a pair of chickadees were singing, and the sky behind them was an unblemished blue.

“It’s the best time of day.” He tugged off a glove and lifted his ski goggles. “It’s going to be a good one.”

It had already started in the best possible way.

“Thanks for asking me to join you. Most people would kill their neighbor for first tracks.”

“Hey—” he turned his head and gave her a smile that connected straight to her knees “—I still made first tracks. You were behind me.”

She pushed him but he didn’t budge, rock solid on his skis. “Next time, I’m going first.”

“If you can catch me, you’re welcome to go first.”

“Remember when we used to skip school and come up here?” She leaned on her ski pole. “We felt as if we owned the mountain.”

“We did.”

“And then they called my mom, and both our parents were hauled up to the school. Mom grounded me for the weekend. As we walked out of the school, she was telling me how I’d embarrassed her and all I heard was your dad asking you what the snow was like.”

“I still remember the look your mom gave my dad. If she could, she would have buried him in a snowdrift. The O’Neils were never her favorite people. She thought Dad was irresponsible.” He stared straight ahead. “I guess a lot of people thought that. Still think that.”

She felt the change in his mood. “He was a good man.”

“He was a lousy businessman. He was trapped in a life he didn’t want, and instead of dealing with it he let a lot of people down. Hurt them.”

“Does your mom ever talk about it?”

“Never. She’s nothing but loyal. She loved him, faults and all.”

“Isn’t that what love really is? Loving someone as they are. If you want someone to be different, how can that be love?” Brenna watched as a bird swooped between the branches, showering snow across the forest floor.

They were alone in this wintery wilderness, wrapped by the cold and the endless white, with only the breathtaking beauty of the forest for company.

“Without Jackson, she would have lost her home. So would Grams and Gramps. Sometimes it’s hard not to let the bad memories overtake the good.” His rough confession, his unusual admission of inner struggle, made Brenna catch her breath.

Why was it that whenever he hurt, she hurt, too?

It was his pain, and yet it felt like hers.

It had been the same after his accident. The same after his father had died.

Whatever he felt, she felt, as if they were connected by an invisible wire that transmitted his emotions straight into her with no filter.

“I always think of your father when I’m skiing in the glades.” She chose her words carefully, hoping to heal not hurt. “We skied here so often. I can still hear his voice telling me to look at the gap between the trees, not the trees themselves.”

“I think of him here, too.”

Breaking her own rule, she put her hand on his arm. “There was so much good. He was fun. Adventurous, and he encouraged you to be adventurous. There wasn’t a single day when he wasn’t proud of you, when he didn’t encourage you. He was a skilled outdoorsman, and he saw those same skills in you. It was your dad who taught me to ski, and he was brilliant.”

“His idea of teaching was to stand at the top of a vertical slope and say ‘follow me.’”

“Exactly. My parents never let me do anything remotely risky. He encouraged you to pursue your dreams.”

“And he pursued his own. A little too enthusiastically.” He drew breath. “I don’t usually talk about this. I guess because you knew him—”

“I loved him,” Brenna said simply, and Tyler turned his head.

His blue eyes fixed on hers, and she caught her breath because what they shared in that moment was intimate and deeply personal.

“And he loved you. He thought you were the coolest girl on the slopes.”

“I envied you so much because you had a dad who really understood your passion. Shared it.” Shaken by the strength of her feelings, she let go of his arm. “I tried to talk to my mother about it. I tried to explain how it felt to surf down soft powdery snow while the sun turns the forest and mountains from snowy-white to burned-orange. I tried to explain how when I’m skiing, all my problems vanish, how I can’t think of anything else but my skis and the mountain, how it clears my head and makes my heart feel free.”

“She didn’t understand?”

“She delivered a lecture on how education would be my ticket out of this place.” She’d never understood that Brenna would have been happy to ski the mountains around Snow Crystal for the rest of her life. That she hadn’t wanted that ticket. “Everything I ever wanted is right here, and she never understood that.”

His gaze was fixed on her face. “What is it you want?”

“The mountains. This life.”
Tyler O’Neil.

Careful not to reveal that part, she dipped her head and poked her ski pole in the deep snow. “I guess I’m lucky. Most people don’t get this close to living their dream. But I envied you that day. I imagined you going back and sitting round your kitchen table telling everyone about it. I bet Elizabeth made you hot chocolate.”