Sarah Morgan - Maybe This Christmas

“I was going back to my lodge, and you have family night.” The O’Neils tried to be together one night a month for a meal. It was something she both envied and admired. She had no idea how a family achieved that level of closeness. Hers certainly hadn’t.

“You’re welcome to join us, you know that. I wish you would. I need moral support to face the sight of my two brothers slobbering over their women.”

“They’re in love.”

Tyler shuddered. “That’s why I need you there. We’re the only sane people left.”

“Not tonight.” She pushed the pinecone into her pocket and started to walk again, her feet crunching on the thin layer of snow. If the forecasters were right, she’d be knee deep soon enough. “I have paperwork.” And she needed some space from Tyler to pull herself together.

“Your life is so exciting. It must be hard to sleep at night.”

She breathed in the scent of snow and forest. “I happen to like my life, although I prefer the outdoor part to the indoor part.”

“Do you fancy a quick drink? I need to talk about sex.”

“You—what?” She stumbled, and he shot out a hand and steadied her, his grip hard and strong.

“Careful. I take it back. Maybe you are a little clumsy when you’re not concentrating.” He let go of her arm. “I realized I have no idea how to talk to Jess about sex, and I want to work out what I’m going to say before I have to say it. I don’t want to fumble like I did tonight over the other stuff.”

Jess .

He wanted to talk about Jess.

Her knees felt as if she’d downed a bottle of vodka. “What other stuff?”

“It doesn’t matter, but it got me thinking.”

She was thinking, too, and she wished she wasn’t because those thoughts revolved around him naked. “Thinking about what?”

“For a start, at what age are you supposed to talk to a kid about sex? What age were you when you talked to your mom?”

I still don’t talk to my mom .

“We didn’t talk about stuff like that.”

“Never? So how did you—?”

“I can’t remember!” Feeling as if she was being strangled, she unzipped her jacket. She and Tyler had talked about everything over the years, but never this. As far as she was concerned, he couldn’t have picked a more uncomfortable subject. “Other kids? Books?”

“But other kids say all sorts of stuff that’s wrong. I don’t want to tell her more than she needs to know, but I have no idea how to find out what she already knows. This is what I mean about parenting being a nightmare. I need a book or something. I’d use the internet, but I’m afraid to type sex and teenagers into a search engine in case I’m arrested.”

It was impossible not to laugh, but she was grateful for the dark and the biting cold of the winter air because she knew her face was burning. Emotions churned inside her; feelings she’d tried to ignore rose to the surface. She wished she were more like Élise, who viewed sex as a physical act as simple and straightforward as eating or drinking.

Élise would have simply told Tyler how she felt, stripped him naked, had sex with him and then moved on as if all they’d done was enjoy a meal together.

“Tyler, you don’t need a book. You know plenty about sex.” More than plenty, if rumor was to be believed. There had been times when she’d wished she could walk around wearing noise-reducing headphones to block out the gossip.

“Doing it, yes, but not talking about it with teenagers. And to make it worse, she keeps finding all this stuff that’s been written about me, and most of it’s crap. I already have parental control on her laptop, but that’s not going to stop her reading all sorts of stuff that isn’t true.”

Brenna thought about all the stuff she’d read about him and wondered which bits weren’t true.

The night after he’d won a World Cup downhill in Lake Louise when it had been rumored he’d spent several hours in a hot tub with four members of the French women’s team? Or the night he supposedly skied seminaked on part of the Hahnenkamm , one of the most notorious runs in Europe, with a whiskey bottle in his hand instead of a ski pole?

Oblivious to her train of thought, he ran his hand over his jaw. “Any ideas? Can you remember being thirteen? What did you think about when you were that age?”

Him . She’d thought about him. Tyler O’Neil had played a starring role in every dream and adolescent fantasy.

“She probably already knows everything. They teach them pretty young at school.”

“Yeah, but how much do they teach them? I want her to be fully informed, that’s all. I don’t want some guy with a libido on overdrive taking advantage of her.”

“She’s not even fourteen, and all she thinks about is skiing. I don’t think you need to worry about that quite yet.”

“I want to be ahead of the game.” He glanced up at the sky. “It’s snowing again. You’ll freeze standing here. Have a drink with me, and you can tell me what sounds right and what doesn’t.”

She wasn’t freezing. She was boiling hot. She was pretty sure her face was scarlet. “You want to talk about sex?”

“You were a teenage girl once. Help me out here, Bren.”

Should she confess that sex wasn’t exactly her specialist subject? “You’re supposed to be at family night.”

“All the more reason to have a drink. A meeting followed by an evening of O’Neil family togetherness is too much for any man.”

He took it for granted, the closeness of his family, the fact that they were always there in the background supporting each other.

He’d never known anything different.

“If we go to the bar, you’ll be accosted by guests.”

“Which is why we’re going to drink the beer from your fridge. I promise to replenish it tomorrow.”

“My fridge?” Her heart bumped a little harder. “You want to come back to my lodge?”

“Why not? You do have beer?” He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she was conscious of the weight of his arm, of the power of his body as it brushed against hers.

His touch was casual.

The way she was feeling was anything but. It would have been safer for her pulse rate and her blood pressure if she pulled away, but that would have raised questions she didn’t want to answer, so she decided her cardiovascular system was going to have to take the hit.

“Jess has talent,” she croaked. “You’re too busy to ski with her all the time, so I was thinking that maybe she should join the under-14 class. I’m focusing on mountain free-skiing, bumps, gate training, gate drills and freeski skills. We’ll mix up the fun with the work. She might enjoy it, and it would be good for building confidence. What do you think?”

“I think she’ll be bored out of her mind. That’s fine for most of the kids, but not Jess. She needs to be stretched.”

“Are you saying my lessons are boring?”

“No. You’re a gifted teacher, but Jess is different. She has something.”

“She’s her father’s daughter.”

Tyler gave a grim smile. “Which is probably why Janet kicked her out.”

They’d reached the steps to her lodge. A single light glowed in the window. “I agree she needs to be stretched, but if you’re going to make the most of that something, it’s important to get the basics right. To focus on style.”

“Style is irrelevant. Speed is what’s important.”

Brenna rolled her eyes and delved for her keys. It was an argument they’d had more times than she could count. “Good style comes before speed.”

“Nothing comes before speed. You want to be the fastest, not the prettiest.” He tugged her hat down over her eyes. Then he stooped and scooped up a handful of snow from the steps and she backed away, her keys still in her hand.