“The cavalry’s here," Beck said.
The real world was rushing back in at forty miles an hour.
"We should get the trucks warmed up," I said.
With the trucks cleared, the snowplow driver waved as he continued down the road. Beck leaned against the hood of his rental, scrolling through his messages.
“Shit,” he whispered.
"What is it?" I put my skates on the floor and Dash hopped onto the passenger seat.
"It's Kelly. Mr. King's assistant." He looked up at me. "The King family is arriving tomorrow. The entire family is flying in for a Christmas vacation… including his daughter."
"His daughter?"
"Yeah. Everleigh King used to be the GM of the New York Thunder. Now, she's more of a confidante to her father."
It took me a minute to place the name. “Is she the one they call the Ice Queen?"
"The one and only."
"Why is she coming here?"
“To supervise the meeting, I guess? Check your messages, the town council scheduled the public meeting for tomorrow night."
"Tomorrow?" I gasped. "We're not ready. I thought we had a few more days."
Beckett shoved his phone in his pocket. "I need to get back to the hotel. The new clause needs to be drafted and approved by our lawyer before the meeting."
"Okay. Well, you'd better go." Reality was waiting at the other end of that freshly plowed road.
"Clara." He stepped closer. "I'm going to get this done. I promise you."
I looked at the man who had slept on a wooden bench to keep me warm. "I believe you."
12
BECK
The SUV reekedlike a chain-smoking wet dog, but I didn't care. I'd smell like a Rapidian's fish hut if it meant Clara stayed safe and warm in my arms all night.
My fingers tapped to the rhythm ofJingle Bell Rockon the steering wheel as I drove the freshly plowed road back into town, making sure that Clara's truck stayed in my rearview mirror.
The timeline was tight, but if I got the clause drafted, the whole project could be greenlit in three days. For the first time, my mind drifted to the project after the signing. The construction would take years, and while I typically worked off-site, maybe the Chance Rapids build would need a hands-on man. That could be me.
When I was young, I equated being a Rapidian with being a failure. For the first time in fifteen years, the idea of success didn't involve a penthouse and a Rolex collection. It involved a slightly neurotic dog and a woman who could keep up with me on the ice.
Huge snow driftshung off the eaves of the Snowy Peaks Inn’s gingerbread trim.
"Hi, Beckett," Evie said with a smile as I walked into the lobby. The bell on her elf hat jingled as she tapped away on the computer. Behind her, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the gilded mirror. My eyes were rimmed in red, my cheeks windburnt, and I knew that I smelled like a dumpster.
"Hi, Evie.” It came out more like a croak. My throat was raw from the woodsmoke.
Her eyes tracked up and down my rumpled appearance. "Did you have a good night?"
It was code for: you look hungover as hell. A drunk running the new development wasn't a good look, and I couldn't risk a rumor. "I wish I was hungover. I got stranded by the storm and had to spend the night in a fish hut." I dramatically rubbed my lower back.
"Oh, no. I'm glad you found a safe place to wait it out. We're getting all sorts of cancellations from people who are stranded in Windswan."
