So, I wasn’t the most handy when it came to things around here. I helped where I could, but… well. There was that one timeI replaced a lightbulb in the fourth-floor hallway and somehow turned off power to half the lodge.
And last week I volunteered to snow-blow the walkway and ended up blasting a rock straight through the window by the lobby door. Thankfully, we were able to have a new window installed before this storm threatened.
Oh, and how I tried to help the kitchen staff unload a food delivery truck this morning, grabbed a box, and ripped right through a case of eggs. Thirty dozen crashed to the floor. Lilah banned me from the kitchen, but surely she didn’t mean it.
Okay, so maybe my strength was less “handy mountain man” and more “keep everyone laughing and happy with their jobs.” But I liked my staff, and they liked me. We all made a great team—a source of pride. I held every belief that I was right where I was meant to be in life, finally.
Was this how Dad felt when he built West Games? Passionate enough to grind himself into the grave for a legacy… I built Snow Quest as my legacy. My way back after the accident. After Dad. After everything that went sideways.
My phone rang. The caller ID made the corner of my mouth quirk.
“Hey there,” I answered, smooth but professional.
“Holden, Merry Christmas,” Madison purred. “I’m confirming my plans for the interview.”
Madison was one of the Sports Network’s best reporters. She’d be coming to do a feature on Snow Quest—good publicity we couldn’t afford to screw up.
“Everything is arranged,” I said. “You’re booked in our best suite for your arrival on Wednesday.”
“I hope the suite comes with personal attention from the owner.”
Hm. Her sultry voice hinted at more. We’d hooked up a time or two over the years. Was she intent on mixing businessandpleasure during her stay here?
If so, the nice thing about Madison was we could be familiar with no feelings involved—unlike the complicated history I had with Lilah. And why was I thinking about Chef Lilah at a time like this? It wasn’t like she’d warmed up to me at all since the day I hired her.
“In fact, up there on the mountain, I might get awfully cold at night. Perhaps I should stay warm with you in your suite? I wouldn’t want to catch a bug.” Madison made it very clear to me. A sensible man would’ve sidestepped that, but loneliness made stupid suggestions sound like good ideas.
“I’m happy to indulge your every need personally during your stay, Madison.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
At least I had something to look forward to on the other side of Snowzilla.
An hour later, word spread. Staff streamed through the halls with coats and scarves, callingMerry Christmasin their wake. I stood by the lobby doors to say goodbye because I wanted them to know I cared. This place and the people in it had become my home.
Charles approached. “Holden, I wasn’t serious about the captain going down with the ship. You really shouldn’t stay. If the storm does any damage to this place, and you were harmed, our insurance premiums would skyrocket.”
Leave it to Charles to worry about the bottom line. That was why I hired him. I might not always know what I was doing, but I knew how to hire people who did.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll lock everything down and spend Christmas with my brothers in the city,” I lied easily, as hepassed through the doors into the chilly air where snow flurries attacked anyone who dared exit.
Truth was, my brothers were scattered across different states and countries this year. Griffin was in Manhattan with Jessa and the kids. Atlas was on an African safari. Beck holed away in Montana, writing a novel. Landon was producing a holiday concert down in Kissing Springs and, according to our group text, “getting cozy” with a performer.
They’d all promised they’d be here for the grand opening on New Year’s Day, though. They’d better be—it was also my birthday, and I’d blocked a group of suites for them.
Mack texted before he left, confirming there was no one outside, and everything was secured. The usual ski patrol guards stayed at their posts.
I kept my SUV in a heated underground garage built for me and the managers. The lodge had every bell and whistle my money could buy—generators, security systems, remote locks. All controlled by apps on my phone. I’d spared no expense in making sure this mountain could run even on lockdown during Snowzilla.
I quickly toured all five floors of the lodge and didn’t see a soul in sight. When I returned to the lobby, I searched the kitchen for any sign of Lilah, calling her name, but she wasn’t around. Probably slipped out through the parking garage.
Avoidance seemed to be her thing, at least of me.
My phone buzzed. The West brothers group chat lit up with holiday memes.
Beck: Staying in my cozy cabin. We got snow dumped on us last night.
Holden: Snowzilla is about to hit the lodge here, too.
