He smirked. “He bought it as a wedding gift. Says it’s her fairy-tale ending. They’re moving here this summer after Theo finishes school.”
I let out a low whistle. “I didn’t picture Griffin settling down in Holly Creek, or ever leaving the city.”
“Neither did he. Word is he’s stepping down from West Games too.”
Across the room, Jessa’s mom cried into a napkin. Aunt Patty danced with Theo… and the frog. Jessa caught Griffin’s hand and pulled him to the dance floor for their first dance. He went willingly—the man was completely owned by that woman.
“Love’s wild,” Atlas said, lifting his glass. “Hits you when you least expect it. Hell, next year this could be us.”
We both laughed at that.
I glanced out the window; the snow falling thick and accumulating. I’d always loved the white stuff, even after mysnowboarding career crashed along with my knee. Now I had a new dream—a lodge to bring to life, maybe a legacy of my own.
Atlas elbowed me. “You’re quiet. Thinking about a particular woman?”
“No. I’m just wondering what comes next,” I said. “Griffin’s been married twice. The rest of us? We don’t have a clue.”
He clinked his glass against mine. “Whatever it is, don’t let it catch you off guard. We West men don’t handle surprises well.”
“Maybe it’s time one of us learned,” I said.
Out on the floor, Jessa leaned into Griffin’s chest while Theo yawned between them. Griffin got his family, a home, and a fairy-tale ending.
Next year, my ski lodge would open.
And maybe my own story would begin.
What to read next:Mr. Snowman featuring Holden West.
Read a sneak peek on the next page.
More West Brothers are coming in 2026.
Want TWO more bonus scenes featuring Jessa and Griffin, one steamy, and one sweet? Get it here.
EPILOGUE 2: MR. SNOWMAN
A Frosty, Flirty, Snowed-In, Almost-Enemies-to-Lovers Christmas Romance
Holden West
Nothing saysI’mThe Manaround here better than an enlarged and framed Times article calling me Mr. Snowman.
THE SNOWMAN RETURNS:
Holden West’s Frosty New Dream
“He single-handedly brought the sports entertainment spotlight to upstate New York with his state-of-the art luxurious new ski resort. We predict that come opening day, the sold-out crowds of ski fans will hail Mr. Snowman and his newest addition to the world of winter sports…”
I loved that quote. I stepped back, hands on my hips, and admired my masterpiece. Not the remodeled lodge—I’d admire it in a week on grand opening day, New Year’s Day. But the two by three feet of glossy glory.
Yep, I had the article enlarged and double-matted—with museum lighting. If I was going to stroke my ego, I might as well have made it a centerpiece.
I grinned at the nickname “Mr. Snowman.” Back when I was a young snowboarding phenom, and destined for Olympic gold, the media had taken to calling me the Snowman. Before the injury, the surgeries, and the endless rehab that led to crushed dreams.
These days, they addedMr.to the front of it, and the press used it with a wink, like a billionaire playing lodge mogul wascute. But looking at that headline didn’t sting. It felt right. This place was my second chance. My legacy.
“Perfect,” I chortled aloud to the empty lobby. “Just the right amount of humble.”
