Sarah Morgan - Snow Crystal Trilogy

Only here did she feel as if she fit. Only here did life make sense.

This was the only place she’d lived that felt like home.

One hand buried in Luna’s fur, Jess rubbed the windowpane with the other and peered into the darkness.

Her mother hated Snow Crystal. She hadn’t been back since the day she’d walked out, taking Jess with her. She hated everything about the place. She hated the snow, the mountains and, most of all, she hated Tyler O’Neil.

She wouldn’t have his name mentioned in the house so Jess made scrapbooks and kept them hidden under her mattress. Ever since she’d been old enough to know what to do with a stick of glue, she’d kept pictures of her dad. Her grandmother and great-grandmother had cut out pictures for her, and at Christmas when she’d come to stay, they’d stick them in a new book together. She had photos of him skiing the most famous and prestigious downhill runs on the World Cup circuit. She knew their names and all the details. As well as the Hahnenkamm there was the Lauberhorn in Switzerland, the longest downhill of them all and a real test of stamina—the list went on, and the one thing those runs had in common was that her dad had skied them all. And if that hadn’t made her want to burst with pride, there were the two gold medals he’d won at the Olympics and the World Cup title.

She’d boasted about him in school once, but most of the kids hadn’t believed Tyler O’Neil was her father.

She knew her mom wished he wasn’t.

Her mom could have married him, but instead she’d chosen Steve Connor, because Steve had wanted to be a lawyer and could give them a better life than a guy whose only ambition in life was to get from the top of a mountain to the bottom faster than any person alive.

Once or twice, Jess had tried explaining how much skill that took, but her mother hadn’t wanted to hear it. Skiing wasn’t a “proper” job and Tyler O’Neil wasn’t a suitable father figure.

The past year had been hell, not that she’d shared that detail with anyone.

She might have told her grandmother, but she knew she was still hurting, and Jess figured if her dad could break a leg and then get up and ski to the bottom of the run on the one leg that still worked, she could cope with the shit her family had thrown at her without falling apart.

The truth was, she was never going to be the daughter her mother wanted her to be.

Janet Carpenter had done everything she could to knock the O’Neil out of Jess. She’d dragged her to piano lessons, extra French, debating, dancing—

All Jess wanted to do was ski as fast as humanly possible.

The final straw had been when she’d skateboarded down the stairs in the house and almost broken her stepfather’s leg.

“You’re just like your father,” her mother had screamed, and Jess had hugged the words tightly because they were the best words her mother had ever spoken to her.

She wanted to be just like her father.

She was her father’s daughter and always had been, and that drove her mother mad.

And now the baby had arrived, her half sister, a squalling tiny being with a wrinkled face and a shock of hair, and her mother was too absorbed by this second chance at parenthood to waste time molding a child who was all the wrong shape and always had been.

Jess had heard her on the phone that night, yelling at Tyler.

“She’s your daughter, so you can have her. I can’t cope with her anymore.”

And so Jess had been shipped off to Snow Crystal for Christmas, just as she always was, the only difference being that this time she wouldn’t be flying home at the end of the holidays.

She was here for good.

It had come to her in a cold moment of realization that no one wanted her. Not her mother, not her stepfather, not even Tyler. She’d been forced on him.

In her dreamier, more optimistic moments, she’d imagined them spending time together, but so far all they’d done was ski on groomed, safe slopes. Jess was bored out of her mind, and he had to be bored, too.

He obviously didn’t think she was good enough to ski anything else, and she couldn’t prove him wrong because he’d virtually grounded her.

He didn’t want her here.

Shivering, she hugged Luna closer, warming herself on soft fur and unlimited doggy affection.

She was a burden, cramping his style, ruining his carefree life.

Maybe if she could prove to him she could ski the way he did, he’d be pleased to have her around. Maybe then, he’d think she was cool.

Maybe then, everything would stop hurting .

Kissing Luna on the head, she slid off the window seat. She dug her scrapbooks out from under the mattress, pushed the photograph of her baby sister inside her favorite, then picked up her pen and wrote Jess O’Neil on the cover in curly writing.

KAYLA HAD EXPECTED something in keeping with the rustic setting. A place a family could gather after a day of skiing and fun in the snow to exchange stories of daring exploits and slopes conquered. She hadn’t expected elegance, but the Inn at Snow Crystal was definitely elegant. Candles and fresh flowers adorned the center of tables dressed with pristine white tablecloths. A large fire flickered in one corner of the restaurant adding a cozy, intimate feel.

She’d chosen to wear her favorite black dress. It had frequently taken her from a day in the office straight out to a dinner meeting with clients.

And that was what this was, she reminded herself. Dinner with a client. It didn’t matter that their table faced the illuminated ski slopes and was perfect for a romantic, intimate dinner.

“Thanks, Tally.” Jackson took the menu from the waitress. “How are things in the kitchen now?”

“All fine, sir.” Tally’s gaze slid from his, but not before Kayla had seen anxiety.

Jackson saw it, too. “Tally?” His voice was gentle, and Tally cast a desperate look over her shoulder just as a crash came from behind closed doors.

Calm and controlled, Jackson rose to his feet. “It seems I need to visit the kitchen before we eat.”

Before he could take a step across the restaurant the kitchen door opened and a burly man dressed in chef’s whites blundered out.

“That’s it.” He ripped off his chef’s hat and thrust it at Jackson. “I’m done being told what to do by a woman half my age and height. Either she goes or I go, O’Neil. Your decision.”

Tally stood there, frozen with dismay, and Jackson smiled at her. “Thanks, Tally. We’re going to need some time with the menu. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”

The waitress shot him a grateful look and shot off, relieved to be out of the line of fire, while Jackson squared up to the furious chef.

“This is not the time or the place for this conversation.” He spoke in a low voice that couldn’t be overheard by the other diners. “Be in my office at nine tomorrow. We’ll talk then. And now I’d like you to return to the kitchen. We’re full tonight and I can’t be a chef down.”

“You should have thought of that before you hired that French bitch.”

Jackson’s expression didn’t flicker. “You’ll call her Élise, or Chef. And if you want to be on the team at Snow Crystal, you’ll work with her.”

“I won’t work with her. One of us has to leave.”

“If that’s your decision, then of course you must go. I won’t stop you.”

Darren’s face worked in fury. “Wait a minute—you want me to leave?”

“I have no use for people who won’t work as a team.”

The chef blustered for a moment and then stabbed a finger into Jackson’s chest. “Your grandfather hired me. He never had any complaints.”

“I’m not my grandfather.” Those blue eyes were icecold, that same mouth that could deliver a smile both sexy and wicked, hard-set and grim. “Go. Now.” His tone made Kayla wish she’d escaped along with Tally, and apparently Darren felt the same way because the bluster left him in a rush. He deflated like a balloon popped at a child’s party.