Snowed In & Set Up

by Whitley Cox

  Snowed In and Set Up

  Whitley Cox

  Copyright © 2018 by Whitley Cox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-0-9958210-8-8

  Contents

  About the book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

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  Acknowledgments

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  About the Author

  About the book

  Christmas, a time when dreams come true, finds six lonely singles tricked into spending the holiday in a romantic cabin in the heart of Washington's snowy Snoqualmie Pass.

  Dr. Will Colson, an ornery, overworked ER doctor, longs to get away and ignore the holiday, and Amber Roth, a feisty contractor with a chip on her shoulder, has a secret she’s kept for much too long. Then there’s Rowan Briggs, a talented chef who doesn’t know when to shut his trap, and brilliant author Juniper Davis, who's almost given up on love. Entrepreneur Hunter Kingsley simply wants to fill her empty heart and go on an adventure, and finally, there’s Austin Masters, the nerdy scientist with a penchant for fire and a bumbling awkwardness that always lands him in a tight spot.

  Sparks fly and secrets are revealed during their five days together, but it's more than holiday whimsy and the spirit of the season that have their hearts aflutter. This year, Christmas magic—and sizzling attraction—might lead them to their true love, who could be right in front of them, standing beneath the mistletoe.

  For my fantastic editor and friend, Chris Kridler.

  You are an incredible person and I’m so lucky to have found you.

  Thank you for all your help, kind words and support.

  You are just one tremendously amazing human being.

  xoxo

  Prologue

  Bcc: Dr. Will Colson, Amber Roth, Rowan Briggs, Juniper Davis, Dr. Austin Masters, Hunter Kingsley

  Subject: Christmas in the Mountains!

  Hey!

  What are your plans for Christmas? Because Riley and I would love to have you join us at my family’s cabin on Snoqualmie Pass. You can literally walk out the front door and up to the chairlift. Just a few friends spending the holidays together, eating good food, playing games, snow shoeing, skiing and snowboarding—you know, all that fun stuff!

  We’ve got lots of bedrooms and all the amenities. I’ll provide the food if you bring your favorite libations and a gift for Secret Santa.

  There’s not much parking so I’m going to hire a shuttle to pick everyone up in Riverbend. I’ll email you later on with the address of where you can park so your car won’t be towed.

  Come celebrate Christmas in rustic but cozy style. The shuttle will pick you up on December 23rd and take you back down on December 28th. Five whole days of nothing but food, friends, festivities and flurries.

  Please let me know by December 20th if you’re able to come.

  Kisses,

  Daisy and Riley McMillan

  New Message — x

  Chapter One

  Will

  Will Colson let out a big manly grunt as he heaved his snowboard bag out of the back of his charcoal-gray BMW M5. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d agreed to this. He hated Christmas. Hated everything about Christmas. The music, the decorations, the idea that a fat man in a red suit could travel around the world in a flying sleigh and visit every home in the world in one night. It was all a big joke. So how in the world he found himself heading into the quaint little coffee shop in Riverbend, Washington, located at the base of Snoqualmie Pass, was anybody’s guess.

  But it was either this or sitting alone in his high-rise Seattle condo, nursing a bottle of Macallan 18 until he was numb enough to go to bed. His mother was down in Trinidad visiting her family, and his dad, fuck, his dad was off with wife number—was it four or five? —down in Palm Springs for the winter. And without a brother or sister to lean on or go visit, Will was left to his own devices. But he liked it like that. No one to answer to, no one to disappoint.

  Because as far as Will was concerned, he was just a big disappointment to everyone. It didn’t matter that he was a world-class doctor, having spent time in war-torn countries, repairing cleft palates on babies and treating the sick and wounded. He was a selfish man because he liked his job; he was good at it, and that was enough for him. He didn’t want a family, he didn’t need a family, and although Janice had said the same things when they’d first met, that her career would always be her focus, they weren’t even a year into their marriage when the topic of babies came up. And that’s when it hit the fan.

  But why would Will want to bring kids into the world? Not when he was sure he would just be a huge disappointment to them, just like his old man had been to him. Like father, like son, right? When Will was eight, his dad walked out on his family on Christmas Eve. Left him and his mom crying on the couch as his dad announced he was leaving her for another woman, a nurse he’d fallen in love with. She became wife number two, but she didn’t last long.

  Of course, there was also the fact that years later, Janice handed Will divorce papers on Christmas morning as he poured his coffee and hummed Jingle Bells under his breath. She’d stated “irreconcilable differences and neglect,” that his demanding job interfered with them starting a family. She’d called him “selfish and a psychopath.” And by the news and ruckus on Facebook recently, she hadn’t wasted any time on the baby front. They hadn’t even been divorced a year, and already she was announcing her engagement to Will’s ex-best friend and their pregnancy to the entire world. So, after that devastating revelation, Will replied “yes” to his co-worker’s wife’s email, more out of necessity to escape reality for a few days than a desire to get into the Yuletide spirit. He needed to get away.

  Will slid into a vacant booth and ordered a coffee. Not really hungry but feeling like he needed to do something with his hands, he picked up a menu and began to read it. The door chimed, and he looked up, but all he could see was a tiny flurry of dark red hair and duffel bags struggling to get into the warmth of the café.

  Amber

  “You sure you don’t want to join us and the kids?” Tim Roth asked his sister as he pulled up in front of the boring-looking coffee shop covered with a thick blanket of snow in sleepy little Riverbend.

  Amber gave him a half-smile and an eye roll as she went to open her door. “As much as I would love to spend a week with you, Jillian and the kids driving down to California in a minivan, I’m going to have to pass.”

  He snorted a laugh as he put the van into park before opening his own door and joining her back near the hatch. “Fair enough. To be honest, I’m a tad nerv
ous about it as well. Jill thinks we can just drive nonstop, switching drivers and sleeping on the way. I’d just as soon grab a hotel rather than listen to Harlow whine for eight hours.”

  Amber grabbed her duffel bag and snowboard bag and swung them both over her shapely shoulder. “You make it sound like so much fun.”

  He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Merry Christmas, sis. Enjoy your ski trip with your friends. We’re definitely going to miss you.” He pulled her close for one of his famous bear hugs. The Roth family bear hugs were legendary, and when it was just the brothers, the hugs often ended up in a wrestling match. But no matter how many times Amber said she wanted to roughhouse, too, the boys had always been very gentle with her. She was the baby, and they treated her as such.

  “Merry Christmas, Tim. Give the kids a big kiss for me. And don’t forget to give them my presents before you guys leave for California. I bought them all travel art kits, something to give you and Jill some peace and quiet for a least a few hours on the trip.”

  He finally released her but didn’t let go quite yet. “Okay, will do. Merry Christmas.” And with a final squeeze to her shoulder he let her go and wandered back around to the driver’s side, before shooting her one last look. “You pack a dress?” Tim didn’t even wait for her response as he opened the door of the van and hopped in. He chuckled before the door slammed shut, and Amber could see his body jostling in mirth as he started the engine and put the car into drive.

  Tim could be such a dink sometimes. A tomboy to her very core, Amber hated dresses and makeup. She much preferred jeans and a flannel and to sit and drink a beer while watching the game than go out shopping for sparkly clothes with the girls or gab over martinis and tapas. It only took her parents a few years of wrapping up dolls and ponies and tea sets that never even made it out of the packaging for them to realize that what Amber really wanted was her own tool belt and tools. She wanted blocks. She wanted Tinker Toys, a train set, and Legos. Things she could really do something with. Toys that used both her mind and her hands to create. And those things came easily, seeing as all the boys ahead of her had these toys in excess.

  After the initial shock wore off that the family’s sweet little red-haired pixie was going to be following in her father’s footsteps and joining the family construction business, everyone accepted Amber’s decision and fully supported her. And she’d made a name for herself in the process, winning contracts her father would have never even considered bidding on. In the last three years, since taking the helm of Roth Construction Incorporated, she’d expanded the company exponentially and made a buttload of money in the process.

  But despite her contempt for all things girlie, all things sweet, all things sentimental, Amber loved Christmas. She loved everything about it. The food, the decorations, the music, and the time spent with those she loved. With three older brothers, she’d been spoiled rotten at any gift-giving holiday, be it Christmas or her birthday. Even Easter saw her raking it in on the present front from every branch of the family tree. Being the only girl in the entire Roth clan for several years (until her niece Harlow was born five years ago), with nephews and boy cousins as far back as anyone cared to count, she was treated like the gem of the family, rare and delicate and prized.

  When Daisy, a friend from spin-class, offered her a chance to come and spend the holidays in the mountains, surrounded by snow, friends, and holiday whimsy, Amber leaped at the chance. Her parents were across the country in Florida, visiting her aunt for the holiday, and all of her brothers were either in Hawaii, California or down in Arizona with their wives and kids. Not one of them would be experiencing a white Christmas. So, with a twinkle in her hazel eyes and holiday spirit in her heart, she packed her bags—even throwing in her one and only dress, a bright red lacy number that always dropped a few jaws—and headed for the mountains.

  She made her way toward the door of the coffee shop but turned back to wave to Tim before she pulled the heavy oak door. She ducked inside, fumbling furiously with all her sacks and luggage, her hair flying around her as she battled the wind and hinges. When she finally popped her head up, the most gorgeous brown eyes were staring back at her from across the room.

  Rowan

  Rowan Briggs turned off the ignition of his Chevy pickup and reached for his phone, confirming the address. Yep, this was the right spot. Seemed like an unusual place to grab a shuttle, but then Riley had married an odd woman. Daisy was nice, sweet as pie and well-intentioned, but the woman was a tad eccentric. I guess that’s what you get when you marry a Canadian.

  Rowan chuckled to himself.

  Crazy Canadians and their “eh, this,” and “eh, that.”

  He’d only been over the border a few times in his life, despite the fact that he lived only fifty miles from it, and each and every time had been a blast—skiing at Whistler, a houseboat on the Shushwap. But by and large, Rowan found Canadians to be a bit odd. Overly friendly, overly happy, and what the hell was it with all the apologizing?

  Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed his bags and jacket and double-checked that he had his knife case and spice set before he opened the door and headed toward the coffee shop.

  When Daisy had sent her email a few weeks ago, Rowan had literally scoffed and shaken his head at the harebrained idea his old summer camp buddy’s new bride had concocted. He had no time for such a holiday. He had no time, period. The man worked seven days a week, twelve hours a day as a sous-chef at the Rouge Oak Room in Olympia, and when he wasn’t working, he was in the kitchen at home, coming up with new and creative dishes. Only those dishes never made it past his front door. His younger sister raved about them when she was over for dinner, telling him he should quit the Rouge Oak and open his own restaurant, but what Annie didn’t understand was that to do that, you needed capital. And Rowan had none.

  But now here he was, heading inside the coffee shop to meet up with whatever other suckers had RSVP’d “yes” to Daisy’s invitation. Because as of three days ago, Rowan was officially unemployed.

  Overlooked, yet again, for the executive chef position by the owner, Silvio, who decided that twenty-two-year-old Cindi, the little line cook who’d been dropping to her knees in Silvio’s office for the past three months, was far more skilled and qualified for the job than Rowan, who had nearly twenty years in the restaurant industry. Who had a Red Seal, had attended Le Cordon Bleu, had worked in France under none other than the infamous Chef Lucien Lacroix, the temperamental but genius culinary mastermind who everyone and their dog ached to apprentice with.

  When Silvio broke the news, Rowan had quit right then and there. He took off his apron, rolled up his knives, grabbed his recipe book and spice set, and walked out mid-shift. It didn’t matter that he liked everyone he worked with and was sick to his stomach that he was leaving them in the lurch during the holiday season; it was a matter of principle. He’d earned that executive chef position, and he was done being overlooked and under-appreciated. He was done not having his ideas and recipes considered. They were good, damn good, and he knew it. But Silvio wouldn’t even taste Rowan’s creations, claiming he possessed a “traditional palate” and Rowan’s ideas were too “out there” for the Rouge Oak.

  So, in a blind fit of rage as he stalked out to his truck, having flipped both Cindi and Silvio two giant birds, he pulled out his phone and punched in a big “YES” to Daisy’s email. He didn’t realize until he was home and the steam from his ears evaporated what he’d actually gone and agreed to.

  He opened the heavy wooden door of the café and stepped inside, instantly greeted with the smells and sounds that comforted him the most. The clatter of utensils on plates, the sizzle of a grill, and the smell of bacon and . . . was that a Tuscan chicken panini on the press he detected? He took a second whiff. Shit, it was about to be overcooked. Standing there taking it all in, he knew what he wanted more than anything, and that was to one day run his own restaurant, with the freedom to cook what he wanted, when he wanted, w
ith no limitations. He was about to ask the waitress if any other shuttle passengers were in the shop when he was slammed in the back and nearly knocked off his feet.

  Juniper

  Juniper Davis, or “Juney” to her friends, glanced at the clock on the dash of her Lexus. She was late. Juney was never late. She left her house at four in the morning in order to get to the border crossing ahead of the holiday rush. But apparently, every other Canadian heading south for the holidays had the same idea, and she was stuck sitting in line for hours. But thankfully, that was where Juney did some of her best writing. In her car, driving, with her digital recorder. In those three hours, she dictated nearly four chapters of her latest fantasy novel, and in the process, created at least three new characters to whom she wanted to give spin-off series.

  But, productivity aside, Juney hated being late, especially when meeting people for the first time. First impressions were everything. She hoped to God that she wasn’t the last one to arrive, causing whoever else was heading up on the shuttle to wait for her. She would have to apologize.

  It’d been an easy decision when Daisy, a childhood friend, sent her the email invitation. With both her parents on a Mediterranean cruise for the holiday, and her sisters off with their husbands’ families, Juney was left all on her own. Which, in a lot of ways, was how she preferred it, at least for now.