Sarah Morgan - Snow Crystal Trilogy

The trail was hard-packed and well maintained, and he stopped the snowmobile at the end of a narrow track. Then he helped her fit snowshoes to her boots and they walked the rest of the way, making tracks through fresh snow. Trees reached high above them like tall, white-cloaked sentries.

The frozen air bit through clothing and sank its teeth into skin.

She shivered. “It’s cold.”

“Wicked cold. Typical Vermont winter. There are folks who spend most of it indoors. There are days when I don’t blame them. Are you warm enough?” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. For once she didn’t resist.

“Just toasty.” Her teeth were chattering. “Never been warmer.”

“Did you buy any of that thermal underwear Alice mentioned?”

“Are you asking me about my underwear?” The look she sent him sent lust slamming into him.

“Just looking out for your welfare. Don’t want to send you back to Brett frozen like the ice pack.”

“As long as I’m still able to work, Brett wouldn’t care.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Why would it bother me? He employs me to do a job for him. It’s perfectly reasonable of him to expect me to do that job.”

Jackson decided not to point out that it was also reasonable to care about the welfare of your employees. “You like him?”

“I respect him.” She peered at some tracks that disappeared into the trees.

“Squirrel.” He answered her question before she asked it. “There are lots of them here. Sometimes you see snowshoe hare, although not so much in this part of the forest. Tell me more about Brett.”

“What do you want to know? Innovation is one of the fastest-growing PR firms in the U.S. and a lot of that is down to him. He’s driven. Focused. Can be visionary and inspirational at times. Drives you mad at others.”

“So you’re planning on staying with them for a while?”

“Yes. I only came over this summer and I’m enjoying the work. I’ll do a couple of years. Then I suppose I’ll move on.”

“Move on to what?”

She shrugged. “Different company. It’s what I do.”

“Ever wanted to do anything else?”

“Like what?”

“If you’re going to work that hard, you could start your own company.”

“I’ve thought about it. I suppose most people do at some point or another. You did.”

“That’s right. I did.”

“It must have felt good—creating something from the ground up. What made you decide to do that and not just work here?”

“Mixture of things.” He hauled her out of range as a branch deposited its mantle of snow on the ground. “Ambition. Curiosity. Ideas. I had so many ideas I didn’t know what to do with them all. There was no space for them here.” Still wasn’t . “Frustration.”

“And rebellion? A desire to show Walter and your father that anything they could do you could do better?”

“Yeah, there was that, too.” He acknowledged it and felt the guilt kick. “I should have come back sooner. Should have asked more questions. My father hated it, you know.”

“Snow Crystal?”

“Not the place. The business. He felt the business stopped him from enjoying the place. He resented the time it took to run it when he could have just been ripping up the slopes.”

“So why didn’t he do something else?”

Jackson had asked himself the same question repeatedly. “Only son. I suppose people just assumed he’d go into the family business. But he spent almost all his time skiing.” Pain punched him beneath the ribs. “He was in New Zealand when he crashed the car. You could ask what he was doing in New Zealand when this place was in so much trouble, but that was my dad. He went where the snow was. I got the call in the middle of the night and flew back as soon as I could. Arrived back in time to collect his body from the airport.” He felt her hand curl into his and squeeze.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was tough. Still is, particularly on my mother. But the cooking was an inspired idea. Just the prospect of it has lifted her mood.”

“I’m pleased.” She tilted her head and looked at the trees. “It’s so beautiful here.” She was wearing the hat he’d given her, but beneath it her hair was loose. He noticed she’d stopped pinning it up. Sleek and smooth had given way to soft waves.

“You’re only a couple of miles from The Long Trail, the oldest hiking trail in the U.S. It follows the main ridge of the Green Mountains from the Massachusetts-Vermont line all the way to Canada.”

“I’ve always lived in cities. The nearest I got to hiking was walking through Hyde Park in London and Central Park in New York. This is—” She breathed deeply and gasped as the cold air tickled her lungs. “This feels like a snowy wilderness.”

“Not exactly wilderness. Backcountry.” Jackson stopped. “I know you’re not a lover of Christmas trees, but does that one look all right to you?”

She followed his gaze. “Looks fine to me.”

He cut it down, secured it to the sledge and then dragged it home, taking each turn carefully as they followed the trail back to the resort.

A large SUV was parked outside the cabin and several sleds and boots lay abandoned by the entrance.

Jackson untied the tree and dragged it to the door. Then he picked up the chain saw, shaped the trunk and pushed it into a stand.

“Is that ours?” A young girl stood on the doorstep, watching as Jackson and Kayla hefted the tree up the steps.

“Yes. Do you like it?” He rested the tree and glanced at Kayla. Snow and pine needles clung to her hair and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. In his opinion she looked a million times better than she had in her office in New York.

“I love it.” The little girl stared at it in wonder just as the door opened and a young woman appeared, a toddler in her arms.

“Sophie, what—Oh—” She paused, enchanted. “It’s like a fairy tale tree.”

Jackson caught Kayla’s eye. Saw her turn her head away to hide the smile, because it was exactly as he’d predicted. That smile made him want to get the job over and done with as fast as possible.

Dinner , he thought. Only this time not at the Inn, but in his barn. In his large, custom-built kitchen with its views of the lake, and cooked not by Élise, but by himself. It was time to finally use those shiny pans.

And this time they wouldn’t be talking about work.

He took the weight of the tree. “I’ll bring it in for you.”

“Thanks—” Smiling, the woman held the cabin door wide and called over her shoulder. “Todd? Come and see this tree. Better still, come and help carry it.”

Jackson tried not to squash Kayla between the tree and the door but in the process ended up with his thigh jammed against hers.

“We’ll have it in the living room. Sophie—move the Lego so Mr. O’Neil doesn’t tread on it.” Baby on her hip, the woman commanded operations, and Jackson dumped the tree and extracted himself from clinging branches.

“You need to keep it watered.”

Sophie stared at the tree, eyes wide. “We have decorations.”

“Sounds good.” Jackson checked the tree was secure. “Well, I’ll just be—”

“Stay for a drink.” The woman smiled at him. “Todd just opened champagne. It’s one of our traditions the night we get the tree.”

“I’ll take Charlie.” The girl held out her arms for her brother. “See that, Charlie? Your present is going underneath it. And mine. Only four more sleeps until Santa comes.”

Jackson was about to ask what she wanted Santa to bring when he caught sight of Kayla’s face.

The healthy pink in her cheeks had faded and her skin was as white as the snow that clung to the branches.