“He might have gone night skiing.”
“He was eating earlier.”
“I saw him with Mack.”
Someone pressed a chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses into my hands. “For your celebration, Chef.”
The West Bar pulsed with noise and laughter. When I asked the bartender if he’d seen Holden, he shook his head with no idea where the founder of Snow Quest had disappeared to.
Hope slipped, fragile and fraying, as the minutes bled away.
“Hold up, ma’am.”
I turned to find three men at the bar with dark hair, broad shoulders, and easy confidence. I knew their type, probably wealthy like the men I’d cooked for on yachts fresh out of culinary school.
“I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re looking for our brother,” the one on the left said.
I blinked. “Holden? Yes.”
“I’m Atlas.” He gestured to the others. “Beck and Landon.”
Beck twirled the end of his mustache. “He texted us on Christmas Eve. Said he met a woman. He called her Snowzilla.”
Heat rushed up my neck.
Landon laughed. “Pretty sure that was a compliment.”
“My name’s Lilah,” I said. “Did he mention me?”
A glance passed between them like silent, brotherly communication.
Atlas shrugged. “He expected to meet someone tonight. Called her Frosty.”
“That is me.” Hope surged. “Where is he?”
“Now hold on.” Beck studied me for a beat. “He didn’t look like tonight was going to happen. He left here disappointed. How do we know you’re not going to break his heart?”
How sweet, these guys sticking up for their sibling. “If I can find him, I’ll make sure something happens tonight.” I lifted the champagne in proof.
“Well, hell, you’ll find him in his suite.” Atlas smoldered, similarly to Holden’s.
“Save him from the saddest New Year’s sulk imaginable,” Landon called.
“I’ll do my best,” I breathed.
The elevator ride up rattled every nerve. What if I was too late? What if I’d already broken something I couldn’t fix?
At his door, I knocked before courage deserted me. It opened. Holden stood barefoot in gray sweats and a T-shirt, hair damp, eyes tired and blinking at me like I was figure of his imagination.
“Lilah?”
“I told you I’d be your first kiss at midnight. I’m here to keep my promise… if you still want me.”
His mouth parted. Speechless at first. Then his smile curved, smoldering, stealing my breath.
He stepped aside. When I crossed the threshold, I knew this was the leap—toward him, not away. Midnight loomed, the year about to turn over, and for the first time in a long while, I was choosing to stay.
Holden
