“Whoever got a dog for Christmas,” Nicole said, stealing a glance at Gracie.
They’d discussed Benny’s struggles with making friends, and this gift was meant to help that issue. Gracie knew it, but Benny had no idea there was an ulterior motive.
He accepted the answer and clutched the envelope to his chest, squishing the puppy, who didn’t mind. “We’re going to training school together, buddy! Just you and me!”
As one of the last gifts came out from under the tree, Nicole’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she winced at the interruption. She’d left her number on the door of the ski shed, the rental and sales business she ran here at Snowberry, in case anyone needed her.
Most of the lodge guests who wanted to ski today had picked up their equipment yesterday, so she didn’t expect to have to go to work on Christmas Day.
But someone from an unknown number asked if the Snowberry Lodge Adventure Shack was open for rentals, so she pushed up from her comfy seat.
“Be right back, fam,” she announced. “Duty calls. But do not pick a name without me, Benny!”
She slipped into the kitchen and hopped into her boots by the mudroom door. Grabbing her parka, she pulled on a stocking cap with a cheerful white tassel and stepped into the quiet bite of cold outside.
With this morning’s fresh powder over last night’s packed crust, the air felt unnaturally crisp and thin, like a perfect mountain morning.
The Snowberry Sleigh sat just off the drive, a thin mantle of white on its curved runners and red side panels. Her horse, Copper, was tucked inside the stable, having been brushed, fed, and blanketed when Nicole arrived from her townhouse early this morning.
She patted the sleigh’s rail as she passed, the paint smooth and cold, loving the old antique beast that had brought her father home—and kept him here.
Still smiling, she crossed the wide, plowed path and headed toward the ski shed, her kingdom and workplace. The old barn’s giant door was closed, with a man standing next to it, blowing into bare hands. As he turned, she caught sight of the red cross on the side of his jacket.
She came to a sudden stop and sucked in an icy breath when she realized that it was Cameron. Or, as she and her friend, Brianna, called him—“the hot ski patrol guy.”
What was he doing here, standing outside the shed, head tipped back to watch the lazy spirals of snow?
Not only was she surprised by that—but the reaction that danced through her whole body was a little shocking, too. She couldn’t fight her smile at the sight of him.
“Skiing emergency bring you all the way out here?” she called, taking careful steps so she didn’t face plant in front of him. Not that it would be the first time—he’d seen her take a few nasty falls as she learned to renegotiate the easiest runs at Deer Valley over the last few weeks.
He laughed, and even from a distance, his smile made her toes curl in her boots.
“My skis caught fire,” he joked. “No, wait, that was me on Daly’s this morning.” He touched his finger to his tongue, then his shoulder, and hissed. “Smokin’.”
She had to laugh, despite the interruption to her delightful morning. Mostly because it just got even more delightful.
“Of course you’d sail down Deer Valley’s toughest run,” she said. “You’re such a ski dude.”
“Why do I think that’s not a compliment?”
She came a little closer, feeling the impact of his deep blue eyes pinned on her. She’d only seen him twice in her life, but his eyes were unforgettable, and so was the just-a-little-too-long dirty blond hair that brushed the collar of his red ski parka.
“It’s just an observation,” she said. “What are you doing here on Christmas morning?”
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Nicole Kessler.”
He knew her last name? Oh, yes—he’d met her the first time with Dad, who he’d recognized. Was he here on Christmas morning…as a Jack Kessler fan?
Because that would be a bit of a disappointment.
“I saw your friend Brianna at Deer Valley this morning,” he explained. “She gave me a present.” He held out his phone. “Your number and place of business. I wasn’t sure if she was being real, so I decided to test the truth of both. Looks like your friend is honest.”
Somehow, she managed to play it cool, knowing Brianna was definitely skiing this Christmas morning. Her folks had gone to Sweden for the holidays and that girl chose the slopes over anything—even Christmas here at Snowberry Lodge.
“Yeah, well, Bri’s honest to a fault,” she said, “and frequently sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I begged,” he said, the two words so sweet and humble and honest that her heart went shamelessly light.
