Page 14 of Cold and Bitter Snow

Conor nodded. “Though he’d rather you know him as the one with the great hair.”

She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Our place is just that way,” he said, pointing to a small side-street. He and Luc shared a ground-floor apartment.

“So this is where we split up, then.”

“Let me walk you to your hotel,” he said, knowing that he sounded ridiculous. They could literally see her hotel from where they were standing.

“I’d like that,” she said, grabbing on to his arm. He looked down at the point where their two bodies touched. It felt different from when she’d grabbed on to him after the avalanche.

For a long time after the incident in Colombia, he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of anybody touching him, even his family. The feeling had gotten less intense with time—he no longer felt like throwing up whenever somebody brushed by him—but this was the first time he felt pleasure at somebody’s touch.

“You okay?” she asked. “I didn’t leave you much time to talk about yourself. You’re probably—”

He interrupted her before she could say anything else.

“I liked hearing about you, Siena. I enjoyed having dinner with you. Tonight was ... special.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” she said, and again her face lit up with a radiant smile.

“I’m off tomorrow,” he said. “Why don’t we go skiing together?”

“Skiing, just the two of us?”

He nodded.

“Is that a good idea with your shoulder?”

“I’m a good skier,” he said. “I won’t fall.”

She laughed and muttered something about his ego.

“Fine,” she said.

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Chapter 5

Siena

Her purple ski jacket was still wet when she woke up the next morning, so Siena put on her backup ski clothes, an outfit she’d bought thirteen years ago, as a senior in high school. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Her size hadn’t technically changed in the twelve years since she bought the navy blue outfit but there was no denying the fact that she was wider now around her hips and butt. In fact, breathing was going to be a bit of a challenge today. She tried bending over.

So far so good.

Siena brushed her dark hair out of her face and pulled it into a simple ponytail that would fit under her ski helmet. Finally, she put on sun cream and some shiny lip balm. There was nothing she could do about the bags under her eyes. She’d been exhausted when she fell into bed, her body full of aches and pains, but each time she’d gone to sleep she’d woken up trapped inside a cold, dark place, unable to breathe. It didn’t take Freud to analyze that particular dream.

She went to look at her phone to see what time it was, hoping she had time for some tea, then remembered she didn’t have a phone anymore. She sighed. She felt naked without it. She made a mental note to get a new phone later that day.

Last night she’d called her parents from the room phone to let them know she was okay. Not that she expected the incident to make the news, but one never knew.

The room clock told her it was almost eight. Tea wasn’t going to happen.

Her heart sped up when she thought of the American soldier. Looks-wise he was completely different from the more studious, less muscled type of man she’d traditionally gone for. Completely different from John.

That can only be a good thing.