by Sarah Morgan
“He’s always known his own mind. And that girl of his—”
“Kayla?”
“Her heart is in the right place even if she does walk in here with those shiny shoes looking all New York City.”
Brenna added milk to her basket. “She’s British.”
“You wouldn’t know it until she opens her mouth. Take some of those chocolate cookies while you’re there. They’re delicious. Not that you’re short of good things to eat at Snow Crystal, with Élise in charge of the kitchen. Now that Jackson and Sean are settled, it will be Tyler’s turn next.”
Brenna dropped the jar she was holding, and it smashed, spreading the contents across the floor. Crap. “Oh, Ellen, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up. Do you have a mop?” Annoyed with herself, she stooped to pick up the pieces, but Ellen waved her aside.
“Leave it. I don’t want you cutting your fingers. There was a time when I thought the two of you might end up together. You couldn’t be separated.”
Double crap.
“We were friends, Ellen.” This conversation was the last thing she needed. “And we’re still friends.”
By the time she left the store, she was exhausted from dodging gossip and thinking about Tyler.
She drove straight back to Snow Crystal and parked outside the Outdoor Center next to Sean’s flashy red sports car. The snow was falling steadily, the path already covered with half a foot of white powder. The temperature had dropped, and there was the promise of more snow in the air, which was good news for Snow Crystal because snow cover was directly related to the number of Christmas bookings.
And they needed those bookings.
Despite what she’d said to Ellen, she knew the resort was still struggling to stay afloat. The log cabins, each with its own hot tub and private view of the lake and forest, had been expensive to build. For the past two years they’d had more cabins empty than occupied. Things were slowly improving, but they still had too many vacancies.
Brenna stamped the snow off her boots, pushed open the door and was enveloped by a welcome rush of warm air. She walked through to the peace and tranquility of the spa. The lighting was muted, the walls a soothing shade of ocean-blue. Soft music played in the background, and the air was filled with the scent of aromatherapy oils. It tickled her nose, but then she’d never been one to lie around and let someone she didn’t know rub oil into her skin. It seemed intimate to her. Something a lover might do, not a stranger.
Not that lovers played much of a part in her life.
Christy, who had joined them in the summer to run the spa, glanced up from behind the desk. A mini Christmas tree twinkled from the corner of her desk. “Still snowing out there?” She was a cool blonde, a qualified physiotherapist who had added massage and aromatherapy to her already impressive list of qualifications. “You’ve had a long day. Is it always as crazy as this at the beginning of a winter season?”
“There’s a lot of planning and preparation, that’s for sure.” Brenna pulled her hat off her head, sending another flurry of snowflakes to the floor. “Is everyone here already?”
“We’re still waiting for Élise, and—”
“Merde, I am late.” Élise, the head chef, sped past her like a whirlwind. “We are full in the restaurant tonight and also there is a party of thirty who booked out the Boathouse for an anniversary dinner. I don’t have time for this. And I know already my plan for the winter season, which is to give people the best food they ’ave ever tasted. I will see you in the gym first thing tomorrow, Brenna. I’m sorry I missed this morning. It is the first time for months but we were crazy in the kitchen.”
“It’s Christmas, and your restaurant is the one part of this resort that has never been in trouble.” Brenna pushed her hat into her pocket. “You’re stressed. You only ever drop the h when you’re stressed.”
“Of course I am stressed. I am doing the work of eight people, and now I am expected to sit in a meeting.” Disgusted, Élise strode off, as light on her feet as a dancer, her shiny cap of dark hair swinging around her jaw.
Christy raised her eyebrows. “Is she caffeinated?”
“No, she’s French.” Brenna glanced out the window. “I saw Sean’s car, so I guess that means everyone is here?”
“Everyone but Tyler. He’s late. I texted him but he hasn’t replied.”
“He’s probably turned the ringer off on his phone. He does that a lot. He used to have to change his number once a month because women kept calling him.”
“I’m not surprised. The man is so insanely hot, I disconnect the smoke alarm whenever he walks through that door. I saw him in the gym this morning, which was a special treat given he usually uses the one in his house. The guy can bench press the weight of a car.” Christy fanned herself with her fingers. “I’m thinking of adding his name to the list of attractions at Snow Crystal.”
“He’s already on the list. Kayla has talked him into doing a few motivational talks, and he occasionally acts as a guide for experienced skiers who are willing to pay a price to ski with Tyler O’Neil.” And she knew he hated it. He wasn’t interested in fame or adulation, just in skiing down a mountain as fast as possible. He didn’t want to talk about what he did; he just wanted to do it. Other people didn’t seem to understand that, but she did. She understood the love of the snow and the speed. “He’ll turn up when he’s ready, as he always does. He operates in his own way, in his own time.”
“I love that about him. It’s a very sexy trait. I guess you don’t notice. You’ve known the O’Neils your whole life. They’re probably like brothers to you.”
How was she supposed to answer that? Two out of the three O’Neils were like brothers, that was true. As for the third—she’d long since reconciled herself to the fact Tyler O’Neil didn’t return her feelings, and she’d learned the hard way that dreaming made things worse. As children they’d been inseparable. As adults—well, things hadn’t turned out the way she’d once hoped they might, but she’d learned to live with it. She knew better than to wish for something that was never going to happen. She had her feet firmly on the ground, and if her brain ever wandered in that direction then she pulled it back fast.
“You’re lucky—” Christy fed a fresh stack of paper into the printer “—you get to work with the guy every day.”
And that probably should have been hard. When she’d accepted Jackson’s offer of a job running the outdoor program for Snow Crystal Resort, she hadn’t known she’d be working with Tyler.
But it wasn’t hard.
Working with Tyler was one of the things she loved most about her job. She got to spend most days with the man of her dreams.
She’d tried curing herself. She’d tried dating other men; she’d even worked abroad, but Tyler was wedged in her heart, and she’d long since accepted that wasn’t going to change.
And if over the years it had hurt her to see him with women, she consoled herself with the fact that the women in his life came and went, whereas their friendship had lasted forever.
“How is the spa doing? Are you going to be busy over Christmas?”
“It’s looking that way.” Christy keyed something into the computer, her perfectly manicured nails tapping the keyboard, her shiny blond hair curving around her smooth cheeks. “I’m fully booked for the Christmas week.”
“You’re doing a good job, Christy.” Brenna wondered how many hours it took to look as polished as Christy. As a child, she’d barely sat still long enough for her mother to drag a brush through her hair. She’d hated ribbons and bows and shiny shoes, which had come as a disappointment to a woman who had longed for a little girl who would wear pink and play quietly with dolls. All Brenna had wanted to do was climb trees and play in the dirt along with the three O’Neil boys. She’d envied them the freedom of their lives and envied their close family, so accepting and su
pportive.
The O’Neil boys weren’t expected to be a certain way or satisfy a set of rules before they were loved.
She’d wanted to do everything they did, whether it was climbing trees or skiing steep slopes. She didn’t care how messy or dirty she was; she didn’t care if she came home with scraped knees and torn clothes. With them, she’d felt accepted in a way she never was at home or at school.
“So is Tyler seeing anyone at the moment?” Christy’s voice was casual. “I guess there’s a line.”
“He’s not known for long-term relationships.”
“Sounds like my type of guy.” Christy inputted some figures into the spreadsheet. “I love them wild. All the more fun when you tame them.”
“I’m not sure Tyler can be tamed.” And she didn’t want Tyler tamed. She didn’t want a different version of him. She wanted him the way he was.
“So what’s a guy like him doing here? I mean, Snow Crystal is lovely, but it’s more of a family resort than a hive for the rich and famous.”
“Tyler loves Snow Crystal. He grew up here. And this is a family business. He does what he can to help.” And she knew it half killed him to no longer be competing. “If we get another fall of snow in the next few days, it might tempt a few more people to book. I know Kayla is putting together some packages.”
“Yes, I’ve been working on a nonskier program with her. And talking of Kayla—” Christy rummaged in the drawer of her desk “—can you give this to her? It came in this morning, and I forgot to tell her. It’s nail polish. The shade is Ice Crystal. She’s going to use it in a promotion she’s doing. Has she mentioned her plans for an ice party to you?”
“No.”
“She’s planning a pre-Christmas event here for locals as well as guests. An ice party. Fire pit, ice sculpture, sled dogs, hot food, fireworks—it sounds fabulous.”
“I can’t wait to hear more. Aren’t you joining us for the meeting?”
“No. There are only two of us in today. Angie has the flu so I’m covering the phones, and anyway I’m not sure I can cope with all that O’Neil testosterone in one room. What do you think of the nail polish? It’s pretty, don’t you think? Perfect for the holiday party season.”
Brenna turned the bottle over in her hand, watching it sparkle in the light. “I spend most of my day with my hands in thick mittens, or else I’m chipping my nails hauling skis all over the resort, so I can’t honestly say Ice Crystal is going to have much of a place in my life, but yes, it’s very sparkly.”
It was the sort of thing her mother would have liked her to wear.
“You should come in and have a spa morning before we get busy. My treat. I could massage away all those skiing aches. And you must tell me what you do to your hair. It’s so shiny. I want a bottle of whatever you’re using.” Christy’s expression changed from friendly to feline as the door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. She smoothed her already smooth sheet of blond hair and smiled. “Hi!”
Brenna didn’t need to turn her head to see who had walked in. Any one of the three O’Neil brothers might have caused a woman to sit up straighter and moisten her lips, but given that two out of the three were already in the meeting room, she knew exactly who was standing behind her.
Her heart lifted along with her mood as it always did when Tyler walked into a room.
“Hi, Bren.” Tyler slapped her on the shoulders with the same casual affection he showed his brothers, his attention focused on Christy, whose eyelashes were working overtime.
“You’re late, Tyler. Everyone else is here.”
“Saving the best until last.” He winked at her. “So how’s it going here in Beauty Central?”
Brenna watched as Christy’s cheeks turned a little pinker. The same thing happened every time Tyler O’Neil smiled at a woman. He radiated energy, and the combination of dark good looks, masculine vitality and casual charm proved an irresistible combination.
“It’s going great.” Christy leaned forward, giving him the full benefit of her green eyes and cleavage. “We’re busier than last year, and Kayla and I have been working out some great ski/spa promotions. Anytime you fancy a massage, let me know.” She flirted easily, naturally, as most women did when they were around Tyler.
Brenna was hopeless at flirting. She didn’t have that way of looking, that way of smiling—but most of all, she didn’t have the clever words.
Christy used words like a rope, throwing them out, using them to draw him in like a wild horse being broken.
Watching the show, Brenna felt as if her heart were being squeezed in someone’s hands.
She was about to melt away quietly to the meeting room when Tyler caught her arm.
“Did you hear the forecast?” His eyes gleamed with anticipation and she nodded, reading his mind.
“Heavy snow. Good for business.”
“Powder day. Good for us. What about it? Deep snow, backcountry and just the two of us making tracks the way we used to when we were kids.” His voice was a soft, sexy purr and she felt her knees weaken as they always did when she was this close to him.
She consoled herself with the fact that this was something she shared with him that Christy couldn’t. She might not be able to flirt, but she could ski. And she skied well. She was one of the few people who could almost keep up with him.
Ellen was right that they’d skipped classes.
On one occasion, her mother had been called down to the school, but the tense atmosphere at home in the aftermath of that confrontation had been worth it for those few blissful hours spent alone with Tyler doing what they both loved best.
But there was no skipping anything now.
They both had responsibilities. “I’ll have to get in line. We have a waiting list of people willing to pay good money to ski powder with you.”
His smile faded. “Lucky me.” He let his hand drop and turned back to Christy, who had somehow managed to apply another layer of gloss to her lips in the short time Tyler’s head had been turned.
She smiled, giving him the full effect. “I expect you’re looking forward to skiing the hell out of those slopes. I watched a replay of your medal-winning run the other day on TV. You were unbelievably fast.”
Knowing it was a sensitive subject, Brenna glanced quickly at Tyler, but his expression didn’t change. There was nothing in that wickedly handsome face to suggest this situation was difficult for him.
But she knew it was. It had to be, because Tyler O’Neil had lived to race.
From the moment he’d strapped on his first set of skis, he’d been addicted to the speed and adrenaline of downhill. It had been a passion. Some might have said an addiction.
And then he’d fallen.
Thinking about that day made her stomach turn. She could still remember the gut-wrenching terror of waiting to hear if he was dead or alive.
The whole family had been there to support him while he raced, and because she’d been working for Jackson in Europe, she’d been there, too. They’d stood in the grandstand, watching skiers hurtle down at brutal speeds, waiting for Tyler. Instead of beating them all and ending the season triumphant, he’d fallen and ended his downhill career for good. He’d spun, twisted and crashed heavily before sliding down the near vertical run and slamming into the netting. Like all skiers, he’d had falls before, but this one was different.
There had been screams from the crowd and then the murmur of anticipation followed by the dreaded stillness and the breathless agony of waiting.
Trapped in the crowd, Brenna had been unable to do anything but watch helplessly as he’d been lifted, seriously injured, into the helicopter. There had been blood on the snow, and she’d closed her eyes, breathed in the freezing air and begged whoever might be listening, please let him live. And she’d promised herself that as long as he survived
, she’d stop wanting the impossible.
She’d stop wanting what she couldn’t have.
She’d stop hoping he’d return her feelings.
She’d stop hoping he’d fall in love with her.
She’d never complain about anything ever again.
As she’d waited for news along with the rest of his family, she’d told herself she didn’t care who he was with, as long as he was alive.
But of course that promise, made in the scalding heat of fear, hadn’t been easy to keep. Even less so now, when they worked alongside each other every day.
She’d witnessed his frustration at being forced to give up the racing career he loved. He hid his feelings under layers of bad-boy attitude, but she knew it hurt him. She knew he ached to be back racing.
He was a gifted athlete, and it made her sad to see him standing on the sidelines or coaching a group of kids. It was like watching an injured racehorse trapped in a riding school when the only place he wanted to be was on the track, winning.
She hadn’t made a sound, but he turned his head and looked at her.
He had the O’Neil eyes, that vivid, intense blue that reminded her of the sky on the most perfect skiing day. A knot of tension formed in her stomach. A dangerous lethargy spread through her body. Neither Jackson nor Sean had this effect on her. Only Tyler. For a moment she thought she saw something flicker in those blue depths, and then he gave her a slow, lazy smile.
“You ready, Bren? If I’m going to die of boredom, I don’t want to do it alone.”
No matter how bad the day, Tyler always made her laugh. She loved his wicked sense of humor and his indifference to authority. If he did something, then it was because it made sense to him, because he believed in it, not because it was laid out in a rulebook.
As someone who had grown up with the rulebook stuck in her face, she envied his cool determination to live life on his terms. He had a wild streak, but his downhill skiing career had fed his desire to duel with danger and provided an outlet for that excess energy. How he would have used that wild streak had he not been a skier had been the subject of endless speculation both in the village and on the world-cup circuit.
