by Suzanne Cass
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Connect
More books in the Series
Other books
About the Author
Acknowledgements
SNOWFALL
Suzanne Cass
Snowfall
Storm Cloud Press, Perth Australia
Copyright © 2021 by Suzanne Cass
Edits by Tanya Saari
Cover by Vikncharlie
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To Gary, my Big Sky Love.
CHAPTER ONE
STELLA PEREIRA STOMPED out of the kitchen storeroom and slammed her phone down on the large, oak table. She gritted her teeth and looked up at the ceiling to stop herself from screaming. Ooh, her mother was so infuriating, Stella wanted to kick something. Luckily, there was no one around to see her fit of temper; the kitchen was empty for a change. Even Joseph and Violet were in the foyer, enjoying a glass of bubbly with the rest of the staff. She’d been hiding in the storeroom for some privacy while she’d made her call. Now, she should go out and join the party. And she would…just as soon as she got her temper back under control.
Pulling out one of the many wooden chairs around the table, she sat down with a heavy sigh. That little internal voice had warned her not to call her mother, and she should’ve listened to it. Her New Year’s Eve was practically ruined. Part of her always knew the call was going to end with her mother’s stony goodbye, not even wishing her a happy New Year before she hung up, leaving Stella feeling like the unsatisfactory daughter who could never please her mother, no matter how hard she tried. Juliette was not happy that her daughter was spending Christmas—and now New Year’s—in America, rather than back in France.
Auntie Celeste would understand. Perhaps she would call her tonight and wish her a happy New Year, then cry on her shoulder. She would help Stella feel better; tell her that Juliette had her own internal demons to deal with, and to try not to take her constant criticism to heart.
Stella’s phone vibrated on the table. When she turned it over, another heavy sigh left her lips. To make her evening worse, Armand, her fiancé, was now dodging her calls, sending her texts all day, instead. The message read:
It’s time you came back to France. You’re wasting your precious skills as a pastry chef working on that godforsaken ranch in the middle of nowhere. Come home, now.
The screen glowed ghostly green in the semidarkness of the kitchen, and Stella fought the urge to put her head in her hands and cry. But it was New Year’s Eve. A significant night for Stargazer Ranch. The day after tomorrow, they would re-open to the public after six months spent rebuilding parts of the lodge that’d burnt down in an arson attack. Preston had once been an ex-employee at the ranch, and now he was spending the next twenty years in prison for his crimes.
Stella had been a victim of one of those fires Preston had lit in an attempt to ruin Dean, the ranch’s owner. She’d been trapped in the ranch’s home-built observatory when the arsonist had locked them all in and set fire to the building. Even now, she had a healthy appreciation for fresh air and unconfined places. And she still suffered bad dreams, but she was determined not to let them get to her. She was stronger than that pathetic man who’d tried to burn them all alive. She was taking a leaf out of Dean’s book. Dean hadn’t let the horrible events break him. And now he was making plans to rebuild the observatory. He said it was a chance to make it bigger and better.
While Dean was rebuilding, most of the staff had used the enforced break to go home and visit their respective families. Stella had used her time to travel around this vast country of America, instead. Her mother would’ve never let her hear the end of it, if she knew Stella had chosen not to go home. So, Stella downplayed the whole thing, not telling anyone back home what’d really happened. And she hadn’t had to go far to see so many amazing things for her to wonder at. The Grand Canyon had been her favorite. Then there was Old Faithful geyser in Yellowstone National Park. And watching intrepid climbers scale the cliff face of El Capitan in Yosemite. They had been her top three.
But Montana was just as beautiful, with it’s amazing Bitterroot Mountains, so, she’d been more than happy to come back nearly a month before the rest of the staff, to help Joseph, and their newly hired casual help, Violet, re-stock the kitchen, and make sure it was running smoothly before the guests returned.
Stella stood, determined not to let tonight be a total write-off. Marching down the hallway, she pushed open the door to the grand foyer, the heart of the Stargazer lodge. Warmth and noise and light hit her with a rush as she walked through. A large fire was blazing in the biggest fireplace she’d ever seen, and flagstone floors set off the huge, rustic, wooden beams. There must’ve been at least thirty people milling around the foyer, gathered in small groups, chatting. The vaulted ceiling soared up nearly two floors, large glass panels at the top allowing a spectacular view of the night sky. Strings of party lights zig-zagged across the room, providing a subtle glow, and some leftover Christmas decorations made the place feel cozy. This room never ceased to amaze Stella. Actually, this entire building was amazing. Dean and Naomi had turned this log cabin into one of the most beautiful and tasteful lodges she’d ever seen. If the foyer was the heart of the lodge, then the lodge was the heart of their ranch-style, boutique resort.
One of the new wait staff, Roxanne, passed in front of Stella, carrying a sliver tray and she snagged a glass of bubbly, giving the other girl a smile. She finally spotted Penny, her best friend, talking to Emily and Tom on the other side of the room.
“Hello.” The greeting came from behind her left shoulder, just as she took a step in Penny’s direction. The voice was familiar and sent a shiver down her spine.
Wyatt Wilson.
That gravelly tone was embedded in her psyche from their night spent snowbound in his pickup truck a week ago.
She hadn’t noticed him as she entered the room, because as usual, Wyatt was standing at the back of the crowd, drinking beer and watching as everyone else partied. This time, when she looked at him, Wyatt didn’t avert his gaze, as he so often did. She liked that she had to tilt her head up slightly to look him in the face. She was tall, nearly five foot eleven—her Aunt Celeste used to joke she should’ve been a model, not a pastry chef—and that meant a lot of men were shorter than her. Not Wyatt, however.
“Hello,” she repeated. Zut, did she just sound more like a startled mouse than a self-assured woman? She tried again. “Good to see you.” She raised her glass, and he clinked his bottle against it. Yep, that time her voice sounded much more composed and smoother. She could do this.
/> “You, too,” he replied. There was a pause as he stared at her.
Wyatt was still a man of few words, it would seem.
“Levi said you weren’t coming tonight.” If she’d known he was going to be here, she might’ve prepared herself mentally. As it was, she felt like a gasping fish out of water, not knowing what to say next. Wyatt lived with his brother, Levi, and his fianceé, Cat. Levi had told her yesterday that Wyatt wouldn’t make it, and she was glad she wouldn’t have to confront her confusing feelings about him. It was probably better if she didn’t see too much of him; she had Armand, after all.
But try telling that to her body; her skin prickled with awareness at his proximity, and her heart did a strange thudding deep inside her chest.
“I guess I changed my mind.” Wyatt tipped his head on the side and smiled at her. Oh, wow. Wyatt was the serious type; he rarely smiled. But when he did, it lit up the room, along with her insides. She remembered the first time she’d seen him smile. It was after he’d rescued her from the crashed truck. He’d helped her up the ravine, and they’d had to shelter from the enormous blizzard engulfing the Bitterroot Mountains in his truck. They’d waited by the side of the road all night for the storm to blow itself out. She’d learned a lot about Wyatt Wilson that night. She’d learned that talking about cooking made him smile. As did the taste of his mother’s pignoli cookies.
“I’m glad you did,” she replied. It was true, her feelings might be mixed when it came to Wyatt, but one thing was for certain, she liked his steady, calming influence.
“How’s your head?” He reached up a hand, as if to touch the still-healing scar running along her hairline, then thought better of it and dropped it back down by his side.
“It’s good. The doctor said you’ll hardly be able to see the scar soon.” She’d hit her head on the steering wheel when the truck had crashed head-on into a large tree. Wyatt had bandaged it for her and kept her awake, in case of concussion.
“That’s great.”
There was another awkward silence. Stella didn’t know what to say. She’d already thanked Wyatt profusely after he rescued her, and he’d brushed most of her thanks away, as if embarrassed. Surely, she needed to find something else to talk about. If they were to be friends—or whatever it was they were—she had to get over her feeling of indebtedness to him.
But as she stared at him, the image of Wyatt kissing her on Christmas Day overwhelmed her mind. They’d been standing in the doorway of the storeroom. Joseph had strung up bunches of mistletoe, but she hadn’t noticed this particular bunch, until now. Stella had heard of the American tradition, but never partaken in it. Wyatt’s questing gaze and fixed on her and she’d swallowed hard. His lips had found hers. Warm and weighty, demanding. Her tongue darted out to taste him. His free arm snaked around her waist, jerking her into his chest, almost lifting her feet off the ground. His desire fueled her own, and she tilted her head to get better access to his mouth. He was nothing like any man she’d ever kissed before. He wasn’t some tame, domesticated male. With Wyatt, there was an edge to his desire, a dark edge, that he seemed to be barely able to control. She’d liked it.
A hot flush crept up her neck and she shook her head to rid herself of the memory. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Cat smirking at her through the crowd. The other woman clearly thought there was something going on between her and Wyatt. Seeing Cat, inspiration hit as to her next topic of conversation.
“So, have Cat and Levi set a date yet?”
“What?” He paused, beer bottle halfway to his lips.
“For their wedding. I heard they were going to hold it here, at the ranch.”
“Oh, right, that.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug and Stella had to hide a smile.
It seemed weddings weren’t Wyatt’s thing. Cat and Levi had become engaged six months ago, after they both survived a raging wildfire, the first of the arsonist attacks.
Stella liked Cat; she was feisty, with a sharp tongue, but at least you always knew where you stood with her. Cat was the complete opposite to Levi, who was warm and agreeable and easy to be around. Even though they were an odd couple, they seemed to gel together, making a stronger whole.
“Yeah, I think they’re planning it for the first day of summer. That’ll be exactly a year since they got engaged,” Wyatt finally said.
“Oh, that’s so sweet.” Stella couldn’t help it, she knew she was gushing, but it was romantic.
“I guess so.” Wyatt looked slightly confused, and she had to quell her urge to roll her eyes. Men, they were all so clueless when it came to romance. Especially American men.
Her phone vibrated in her hand, and without thinking, she tipped it up to see who it was. Armand. Again.
Why are you ignoring me? I need you to tell me you’re coming home, or else…
“Problems?” Wyatt must’ve seen her expression change as she checked her phone, because his black eyes softened slightly. Wyatt didn’t know she had a fiancé, unless he’d heard it from someone else, because she hadn’t mentioned him. She should’ve told him after he kissed her on Christmas Day. But the words just wouldn’t come.
“No… Yes.” She shrugged. How did she explain? Armand was complicated. This whole engagement thing was complicated. And Wyatt—or the way her body reacted to Wyatt—made her feelings about it even more tangled. Stella didn’t know if there was anything between her and Wyatt, or even if she wanted there to be anything between them. One thing her mother had taught her—that she actually agreed with—was not to keep secrets.
She squared her shoulders. “I have a boyfriend back in France.”
The only sign that Wyatt heard her was a telltale lift of one eyebrow.
“Well, technically, he’s my fiancé,” she blurted.
“I see.” He kept his obsidian gaze fixed on her, but there was a subtle change in his eyes, like a wall had come down inside his mind.
Zut. She’d done it now. Scared him off. Maybe that was for the best.
Before she could say any more, Levi came up and tapped Wyatt on the shoulder. “Hey, bro, sorry to interrupt.” He flicked Stella an apologetic smile. “There’s some guy over by the door, asking for you.”
“What?” Wyatt’s head snapped around. “Who is it?”
“Says his name is Tony.”
Wyatt followed Levi’s gaze toward the front door. A muscled jumped in his jaw as he studied the man.
“Yeah, he’s an old friend from…” Wyatt didn’t finish his sentence, glancing around to see if anyone had heard him. Stella knew what he’d been about to say. Wyatt had spent two years in prison. Few people knew about his time in lockup. Wyatt didn’t like to talk about it, he thought people would think less of him if they knew. This must be a fellow inmate.
Wyatt had been convicted of rape and murder. But he was innocent. And had finally been exonerated. The fact that it’d taken so long for the police to catch the actual killer and the courts to release him, however, had left Wyatt angry and resentful.
“Sorry,” Wyatt said. “I’d better go.” Stella caught the glimpse of regret in Wyatt’s eyes, before he turned to tell his brother he’d see him at home, and put his half-drunk bottle of beer down on the nearest table.
She watched Wyatt’s retreating back, following the line of his lovely, broad shoulders, and an unconscious sigh escaped her lips. He was deliciously gorgeous.
But not for her. She had too many other issues to deal with. One of them being an angry fiancé. The other being her indecision on exactly how long she wanted to stay in Montana. Maybe she should go home, like everyone was telling her. Her trip had been unplanned and impulsive. She’d applied for the job as assistant chef on the ranch, never in her wildest dreams thinking she’d get it. Then three days later, as she’d been running late for work at the patisserie, her cell had rung and it’d been Naomi, Dean’s wife, on the other end, offering her a job. Stella was a believer in fate. Everything always happened for a reason. Positive thinking was the best
way to get through the hurdles life threw at her. So, she’d followed her instincts and moved to Montana. The contract was for a year, but Stella had only been here seven months, so far. There was a lot more she wanted to achieve before she left.
Wyatt met the other man near the front door to the lodge. Tony was tall and wiry, pretty average looking. He was still wearing his down jacket and knit cap from his trek through the snow outside. There was a slight tilt to the man’s mouth that Stella didn’t like.
Wyatt and the man disappeared through the door, Wyatt grabbing his coat from the rack near the door as he went.
Stella’s phone vibrated again.
It was Armand. His text read:
Come back to France now, or I’m ending this sham of an engagement.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Wyatt snarled, not caring if his blunt question offended the other man.
“I needed to see you. Make sure my…package was safe.” Tony lifted a corner of his mouth in a cheeky grin. Back when he first met Tony, Wyatt had seen that smile as a form of friendship. But he knew enough now to distrust it. That grin meant trouble.
“Besides, you weren’t that hard to track down. Seems like everyone knows everyone else in these small towns.” Tony stopped walking and pulled Wyatt by the elbow, turning him around to face him. “So, is my package safe?”
“What the hell, man? You can’t come here and interrupt my New Year’s Eve. Everybody inside saw you.” Wyatt shook Tony’s hand off and glared at him. Levi would kill him if he knew what was going on. He didn’t think he could cope with the disappointment that would show on his younger brother’s face if he found out. At times, it felt a little like Levi was the older brother. He was certainly acting like it; he had the steady job, a fianceé and was renting a great house. While Wyatt… Well, he didn’t have a lot to show for his life so far. And Levi also had an impressive beard, as well. Wyatt was a little jealous of Levi’s beard, because he’d never been able to grow a proper one himself. It gave him an air of seriousness that hadn’t been there back before Wyatt went into jail. His little brother had definitely grown up.