Sarah Morgan - Snow Crystal Trilogy

KAYLA LAY ON her face, inhaling snow for what felt like the fortieth time that morning, and heard a whooshing sound as Jackson arrived by her side.

“That was better.”

Better?

She lifted her head. Spat out snow. “Which bit was better? The bit where I turned into a windmill or the bit where I hit the ground with my face?”

He hauled her to her feet in an easy movement. “Your weight was wrong. You leaned back. It’s a natural response to a slope but you have to have the weight forward in your boot. Want to try again?”

“Why not? I think there might be a centimeter of my body that isn’t bruised, and if I’m going to be black-and-blue I’d prefer to be black-and-blue all over. I like a uniform look. Matching black eyes is bang on trend, haven’t you heard?”

He wasn’t even bothering to hide the smile. “You need to trust your skis.”

“I only met them a few hours ago. I never trust anyone on such a short acquaintance.”

“Your ski is designed to turn.” He skied down ahead of her and then paused and called up to her. “Try it again.”

She tried not to think about the fact he made it look easy. “Fine, but make sure you send Brett the bill for medical expenses.”

“If you break anything, my brother Sean will fix you for free.”

Baring her teeth at him in a mock smile, Kayla let her skis run across the slope and then transferred her weight as he’d taught her.

“Put pressure on the big toe edge.” The instruction came from in front of her, and she realized that Jackson was skiing backward.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a flash bastard, Jackson O’Neil?”

The cold nipped at her cheeks. Her skis ran smoothly over the snow. In that fleeting moment, Kayla realized she was enjoying herself.

“Okay, this is fun—” The moment she said it her ski hit a bump and she lost her balance and would have crashed down again, but this time Jackson caught her. He locked his arm around her waist and steadied them both as she slammed into him.

Breathless, Kayla clung to the front of his jacket, wondering why it was that so many activities ended up with her cemented to his body. “Don’t drop me.”

“I won’t drop you, but if you could stop digging your nails into my arm that would be good.” He spoke through his teeth. “If it’s not your stilettos, it’s your nails.”

She looked at him and saw his eyes darken.

“No,” he said thickly. “Not here. I need to concentrate or we’ll end up at the bottom of the mountain.”

“I thought that was the objective.”

“Yeah, but in your case it’s best if it takes longer than twenty seconds.” He eased away from her, but still held her steady.

“How old were you when you first skied down this run. Tell me honestly.”

“Three.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I was a late starter. Tyler was two. I still remember my father yelling at him ‘Turn, turn’ and Tyler whizzing straight down like an arrow from a bow, yelling back, ‘Why?” He just didn’t see the point of turning when he could go straight down.”

Kayla laughed. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, it’s true. Along with a million other stories that would make your hair stand on end.”

“No wonder Jess thinks he’s a hero. It must be cool having him as a dad.” But coolest of all was having a dad who loved his daughter as deeply as Tyler clearly loved Jess.

She thought back to the way Tyler had handled the situation the night before.

Once they’d received confirmation from the lift attendant—a lift attendant who had been too overawed to challenge the daughter of a medal-winning downhill skier—Tyler had sent everyone home except Brenna, who had stayed at the base of the lift in case Jess had started the run before Tyler could reach her.

Jackson lifted his hand and brushed snow off her shoulder. “It was good of you to help us.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made us all see it from Jess’s point of view.” His voice was rough. “You were right that she was worried he wouldn’t want her here. It didn’t take him long to put her right on that score.”

Kayla felt something squeeze her chest.

This time, it had just been a misunderstanding. A lack of communication.

“Looks like it’s going to be a happy Christmas in the O’Neil household.”

“Seems that way.” He didn’t release her. “So how come you know so much about the feelings of teenagers, Kayla? How old were you when your parents divorced?”

“Thirteen.”

“That must have been tough.”

She’d never talked about it with anyone. “It was hard at the time, but I guess it made me stronger. More independent. Life events shape us, don’t they?” Except in her case she’d ended up misshapen.

She stood still, feeling the cold biting into her cheeks and the solid power of his body between her and the fall of the mountain. “Should I give up? I’m not sure I have an aptitude for skiing.”

“The thing about skiing is that, even if you don’t progress much past beginner status, you’re still out in the fresh air, looking at those mountains and getting some exercise with it.”

“So you’re not big on the gym then?”

“I’ll use the gym when I have to, usually for weights. I spot Tyler a couple of times a week. He does the same for me. But as for cardio—” he shrugged “—I’ve never been one for running without a purpose. Why would I when I have this on my doorstep? There are plenty of other ways to get the heart pumping.” The glitter in his eyes made her heart pound, and she turned her head and focused on the mountains.

“I admit it’s beautiful. I even admit that for thirty whole seconds back there when I was upright, skiing felt like fun. But the rest of the time I’m face-planting in the snow and that doesn’t feel so good.”

“Keep practicing and you’ll face-plant less. Are you always this impatient when you’re learning something new?”

“Yes. If I’m not good at something immediately, I’d rather do something else.”

His eyes were on her mouth. “You got any ideas about what that something else might be? Because I might have some suggestions.”

She felt the chemistry flare, live and dangerous, and this time it wouldn’t be controlled. “Jackson—”

“Yeah, I know.” His voice was husky and hot. “Public and all that. Getting naked on the slopes is still frowned on. Not to mention giving a person hypothermia.” His phone beeped, and he dug the edges of his skis into the snow and reached into his pocket and checked his messages. “Another Christmas tree order. A family would like one by this evening in order to continue a family tradition of putting presents around it.”

“Can’t they buy it from a supermarket?”

“They could, but a tree freshly cut from the forest is the fairy tale—that’s as long as they’re not the ones cutting it.” There was wry humor in his eyes. “Come with me after lunch and you can be part of that fairy tale.”

“I’ve never been a believer in fairy tales.”

“That’s good to hear, because chopping down the tree and hauling it back through the forest when the weather is minus double digits certainly doesn’t count as one. But it’s all part of the fantasy. All part of a Snow Crystal Christmas.”

“In that case, I should be there.”

She told herself if there were one thing guaranteed to kill her libido stone-dead, it would be choosing a Christmas tree for another family.

HE TOOK HER deep into the forest.