Page 18 of Cold and Bitter Snow

“Up there by the ridge, they definitely risked triggering an avalanche.”

Chapter 6

Conor

Siena had gone quiet again after their discovery.

Conor wondered what was in the crate that somebody had been in such a rush to get to it. There was little doubt in his mind—that same person or people had caught Siena looking at the crate as it landed and had triggered the avalanche that had almost killed her. Which meant that whatever was in that crate was worth killing for.

“Come with me,” Conor said. “You look like you could use something warm.”

“Are we going to the restaurant?” she asked hopefully, pointing at the meeting point where dozens of families and groups were already gathering. It was almost noon.

“Not this one,” Conor said, skiing fast past the restaurant to another smaller building. This one had no branding and looked more like a storage hut. Conor, however, knew it as the best restaurant on the slopes, one reserved for staff and ski instructors.

“What is this place?” Siena asked. “Smells great.”

“You’ll see. It’s the best food you’re likely to find in any ski resort in Europe. You need to try their bratwurst. Here, take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

“Sounds great,” she laughed. “I’ll have a tea as well, please.”

As he moved towards the food, Conor saw Siena’s laugh had caught the eye of a tall, dark-haired ski instructor dressed in red. Ignoring Conor completely, the man gravitated towards Siena.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the man said, pulling off his glove to grab her hand and shaking it meaningfully. “My name is Mattia.”

“I’m Siena.”

“What a beautiful name. Don’t tell me you’re Italian. I’m Italian,” Rob said, flashing a wide smile worthy of a toothpaste ad. Conor moved further down the line of people waiting to order. He couldn’t hear the man’s words any longer but noticed he hadn’t let go of Siena’s hand yet.

By the time he paid for the food and walked back Siena had managed to recover her hand but the ski instructor was still standing way too close to her.

Conor felt something burn in his stomach. It took him a second to realize it was jealousy.

At that moment the man’s eyes met his over Siena’s head. He slammed Conor with the look of contempt some instructors saved for the staff who actually made the ski resort work.

As Conor watched, Siena pointed at him, leaned forward and said something softly to the ski instructor that made him literally recoil in a mad dash to get away.

Balancing two bratwursts, a coffee and a tea on a flimsy tray, Conor clunked his way back in his ski boots.

Siena was gazing out the window, looking at the town of Le Miroir.

“It’s a beautiful view,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Conor sat across from her, placing the tray down carefully. “Wait until you try the food. What did you say to your admirer that made him leave so quickly?”

A blush spread on Siena’s cheeks. “I hoped you hadn’t seen that.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I told him we’d just found out we were having a baby and had a lot to discuss.”

Conor’s hand shook in mid-air and he came close to dropping the drinks.

Siena laughed again, a beautiful, joyous sound. “Relax, Conor, it’s not true.” Her voice lowered again to a mere whisper. “We haven’t even had sex, remember?”

Conor didn’t know whether it was her words or her soft breath in his ear that made his cock stand to attention but suddenly he was glad for the table between them.

“This is really good,” she said, taking a bite of the bratwurst. “Not sure it’s the best I’ve had, though. I spent a summer in Berlin when I was young and I think I ate about a million of these. I should have written a book about it.”

Conor took a bite to distract himself.

“How about you, where did you grow up?”