by Carol Ross
Stacey had just finished her presentation when the waitstaff arrived with a filet-mignon dinner and a black-bean-and-quinoa alternative for any vegans in the party.
She added, “I’m sticking around for dinner, so I’ll be available to schedule any activities you’d like to partake in or answer any questions you might have. Don’t forget the party Saturday night in the Cascade Ballroom. We’ll all have a great time. The first couple hours are for everyone, but tailored to families with a host of neat activities for the kiddos. Trust me, Mr. Addison has gone all out. The adult party will start about nine thirty when the DJ begins to play. The details are in your handout, but feel free to ask me anything.”
Lucas had asked if he could sit next to Hannah, and Tate had acquiesced. He knew he would be up and down mingling and answering questions anyway. He’d asked Hannah if she minded and of course she’d said no. She seemed so good at compartmentalizing her feelings, which just strengthened his belief that Snowy Sky didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him, or more to the point, that the meaning it held was different.
From where he stood across the room, he watched her pick up her napkin, expertly twisting and shaping the cloth into some kind of critter puppet. He could hear Lucas’s giggle as the creation seemed to come to life and dance around. No one could make him giggle the way she could.
Then again, no one could make Tate feel like Hannah did either. He missed her. Kissing her had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced; he’d never felt so much in a kiss—so much promise and hope. He’d also never experienced these kinds of feelings for a woman before Hannah.
With Hannah everything had felt so right. He’d purposely stayed away from her on New Year’s even though he’d watched her all evening. But when she’d tried to “save” him something had shifted inside of him, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from approaching her—from touching her. He wasn’t used to having someone look out for him like that. She’d been ready to storm the stage—for him. Cricket was right, she was brave.
Viktor spoke from beside him. “She is natural mother, your Hannah.”
Tate ran a hand over his cheek. “Yes, she is. But she’s not my Hannah.” Why couldn’t he be a natural father?
“It bothers you, this bond she has forged with Lukie, yes?”
Tate winced, silently acknowledging the statement. Surprising how much it bothered him to hear his problem spoken aloud. He had no idea how Viktor always seemed to know these things about him. He just did, and now Tate didn’t even try to lie. Their relationship had always been based on reality and honesty—even if that honesty was sometimes painful.
“Yes,” he answered softly. “It does.”
“Why is this?”
“I’m not sure. I’m a little jealous I guess, but happy at the same time. That sounds weird. I guess it bothers me that everything seems to come so easy for her. She’s so...perfect.”
Viktor tipped his back and laughed. “You think life has been easy for Hannah? You think is easy now?”
Tate shot him a surprised look. “Pretty much. You don’t? I mean she comes from this amazing family of real people—normal, good people, who adore her. She’s so loved, and she has so much love to give. She has everything I want.”
“Everything?”
Tate couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather have.
Viktor wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed. “Do you remember what I used to tell you so often when you were competing?”
Tate belted out a laugh. “You told me lots of things, Viktor. Lots and lots.”
Viktor chuckled. “This is true. Is why you were champion of the world. But I am talking about the one thing I would tell you when you performed well but would weigh your success too much against another’s?”
Tate remembered. Viktor had always told him to never be pleased with just winning, with just doing enough to get the win. He always wanted Tate to perform at his highest level. If that meant first place then great, but if it meant third or fourth or tenth, that was fine, too. As long as he was doing his best. And somehow, Viktor always knew exactly what he was capable of and he would say...
“Do you remember?”
“Viktor, I don’t think this applies to personal relationships and—”
“Ah, but it does. So much of competition of any kind is like life.” Viktor looked him in the eyes. “You may have the odds stacked against you at the onset, but you take those odds and you work, and you learn, and you practice until you achieve what you want.”
Tate didn’t see how he could learn to love and give love when he didn’t seem to have the innate skills. His foundation and Hannah’s could not be more opposite. “But—”
Viktor turned a finger inward to lightly tap Tate’s chest. “I would say—you are capable of more, Tate. I would say—you deserve exactly what you earn and you can earn whatever you want.”
* * *
AFTER SPENDING THE next day on the slopes Hannah and Adele ventured into the enchanting little town of Garner for dinner. Colorful scroll detailing decorated the storefronts, lending the town a Bavarian-village kind of feel. Unique shops and boutiques lined the main street selling everything from ski and snowboard gear to gourmet cooking supplies, knickknacks and fancy chocolates. Hannah’s favorite was the shop dedicated to clocks; there must have been a hundred cuckoo clocks chirping in the windows.
Agreeing on a quiet pub for dinner, they enjoyed delicious sandwiches piled high with shaved roast beef, caramelized onions and a deliciously melted combination of cheeses. Afterward they continued their stroll down the main street of town.
“I’m having so much fun imagining Rankins with this kind of tourism in the winter.” Adele pointed to a shop featuring authentic German collectibles: ceramic figurines, dolls, handmade plush animals. “It’s going to be a different place in the winter. It’ll be so great, Hannah.”
Hannah knew providing this visual had been part of Tate’s intention, yet when she thought about it, it worked in her favor, too. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
Adele went on, “And we don’t need to come up with a theme. We already have our own rustic kind of flair.”
Rankins consisted of a mix of historic old buildings in a variety of styles—timber frame, log, brick, and eclectic mixes of weathered wood and stone and metal. And thanks in great part to encouragement from the Tourism Bureau, the townsfolk were showing their pride in Rankins’s colorful history by donating antique logging equipment, fishing paraphernalia,and mining gear, which was being artfully arranged around the town. Summer tourism was already at record highs and she felt a current of excited anticipation as she thought of what was now in store for Rankins in the winter.
Her mood plummeted as she imagined how Tate’s proposal would give Snowy Sky a more modern feel. Couldn’t he see how well the theme worked here in Garner? How the lodge complemented the town? She had to get him to compromise on this point at least.
Music drifted from a bar up ahead on the block.
“Hey, let’s go in,” Adele suggested. “I’d love a glass of wine and I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”
Hannah didn’t want to, but she knew Adele was trying to boost her spirits and Hannah appreciated her coming along this weekend. There was no reason why Adele shouldn’t have some fun.
“Okay, sure.”
A small group of people was packing up, so they were able to snag a table and a waitress immediately took their orders. The band was fantastic and surprisingly enough Hannah soon found herself having a nice time. Drinks were delivered as the band began playing one of Adele’s favorite songs.
“We have to dance to this,” she yelled. She stood and motioned for Hannah to follow. “Come on.”
* * *
CROWDED PUBS WEREN’T exactly Tate’s idea of a good time, but Cricket had t
alked him into hearing a band. He claimed it was one of his favorites, but Tate suspected he was tired of watching him mope around.
Cricket was drinking a beer and chatting up a professional snowboarder and her friends who had come to town a couple days early for the competition. Tate was sipping his tonic and lime while one of the women tried desperately to get his attention. He wasn’t interested, but he could only sit silently for so long before he started to look like a jerk.
He twisted around on his stool looking for an excuse to get away...
Hannah.
He spotted her easily, despite the crowded dance floor. She was just so...radiant. He suffered a flash of embarrassment at even thinking the word, but it fit. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he knew he wasn’t the only one.
Smiling, waves of brown hair falling down her back. She looked so happy. Hannah almost always looked happy, he had learned, even when she really wasn’t. He’d picked up on that, too. But most of the time her contentment seemed genuine, and he liked that so much. It balanced his tendency to take life so seriously. And suddenly he realized the unhappiest moments he’d witnessed from her had all been because of him.
Viktor’s words came to him and all the stupid reasons he’d decided they were better off apart flashed through his mind. He discarded them in one fell swoop. Because he needed her. It was that simple. And Lucas needed her, too. He hoped Viktor was right that if he tried hard enough, he could actually deserve her, too, because he was going to try. He stood and moved toward the dance floor, toward Hannah.
She was all he could see, all he could think about, and suddenly he had to get to her as quickly as he could and tell her exactly how he felt.
* * *
HANNAH DANCED A couple more songs and then caught Adele’s eye. Thirsty, she mimed a drinking motion and pointed toward their table. Adele waved as a nice-looking guy swept her into his arms. Good for Adele, Hannah thought. She’d been pining over Cricket way too much lately.
Standing beside their table she drained her glass of water. Wanting a refill, she spun around to search for the waitress only to find a wide, firm chest blocking her path. Her eyes flicked upwards and she started to move around him, until she realized she was staring into the face of the only man to ever break her heart.
* * *
AND THAT’S HOW Tate ended up with beer spilled all over his shirtsleeve and down half his back. He wasn’t paying attention and he stepped into a guy whose hands were gripping the handles of four mugs of beer. Tate apologized, backtracked to the bar and fished some money out of his wallet, including a huge tip. He told the cute bartender that the guy’s drinks were on him. She flipped him a towel and a sweet smile.
He waved a thank-you and sopped up the mess the best he could. The guy was grateful and impressed with his generosity, and unfortunately he knew who Tate was. He was a snowboarder himself in town for the Super Big G. Was Tate competing again? Did he have any insight about the cross course? Tate politely visited for a few minutes before continuing on his mission, and that’s when he saw Hannah talking to Spencer Kitt.
* * *
SPENCER? HANNAH THOUGHT she might throw up.
“Hannah, hey. How, uh, how are you?”
“Fine, Spence. How are you?”
Three years ago she’d been ready to bring this guy home to meet her family. Three days after her near-fatal accident he’d shattered her heart and crushed her spirit, and now they were how-are-you-ing? This was surreal.
His eyes traveled up and down her frame. “You look incredible. You’re just totally hot, but you always were. I’d heard that you’d made a full recovery, but I can’t believe you’re here standing right in front of me.”
He lifted a hand as if he was going to touch her. She gave it her best get-that-spider-away-from-me glare, and he lowered it back to his side.
“As opposed to what? Being in a wheelchair?” She couldn’t help her cynical tone. No, that wasn’t true—she didn’t want to temper her anger.
He winced, nodding as he replied, “I deserve that, and more. You probably hate me, but, Hannah, I’m so sorry about everything.” He inhaled deeply and went on, “Sorry sounds ridiculous now that I’m saying it. So many times I’ve wanted to call, but I was such a fool.”
With his green eyes fixed firmly on hers, he sounded as sincere as he looked. And he looked really good; muscles very noticeable beneath his close-fitting T-shirt, blond hair neatly trimmed with a touch of honey-golden stubble covering his jaw. How could someone who was so good-looking be so cruel? Why hadn’t she considered that he might be here for this event? The Super Big G was a very big deal.
“Spence—”
“No, wait. I’m sure this speech sounds practiced and that’s because it is. I promised myself that if—when—when I ran into you someday I wouldn’t waste the opportunity to say everything I’ve wanted to say. I was such a stupid coward, and I—”
* * *
TATE WATCHED FROM across the room and he knew. He just knew there was something between Hannah and Spencer Kitt. A painful knot began to form in his chest at the thought that he might be too late. Because his feelings for Hannah were clear as crystal now. He briefly pondered what to do. Another man might throw in the towel, a nice guy would probably back off.
But something about the way she was standing, her posture and her movements, or lack thereof, called to him. Her lips were curved up into a smile, but he knew her well enough by now to know that she didn’t mean it because... Because the rest of her wasn’t smiling, and she did that—smiled with her face while the rest of her didn’t match the moment. He wondered if she knew she did that.
He walked up and joined them.
“Tate.” She met his eyes and he hoped he wasn’t imagining the relief he saw there.
“Hannah, there you are.”
“Tate, hey, man!” Kitt cried, reaching out a hand. “Great to see you.”
“Yep, here I am,” Hannah replied in a dull, slow, very un-Hannah-like manner. Something wasn’t quite right here.
“Spencer.” Tate shook his hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s it going?”
“Good. Here for the Super Big. Are you competing again?”
“No, actually I’m here on business. I don’t know if Hannah mentioned it, but she’s here with me.”
He watched Spencer’s face fall and wished those words were true in the sense he was assuming.
“...for the same business.”
Spencer brightened again. “No, we hadn’t gotten that far. We were just, um, catching up. We used to know each other a long time ago.” He turned a meaningful, hopeful smile on Hannah.
She continued to stare blankly. Tate thought she looked ill. Something told him this was all Kitt’s fault.
“That’s nice,” he somehow managed a polite smile along with the words. “But unfortunately I need to interrupt.” He reached out and gave her forearm a gentle squeeze. “Can I steal you away, Hannah?” Why hadn’t he done this already—weeks ago? Stolen her away, or at least stolen her heart, like she’d stolen his?
“I want to introduce you to some people,” he lied.
“Sure.” Her voice was barely audible.
Spencer looked disappointed but sounded eager, “Hannah, we’ll talk later, okay? Tomorrow? I’ll call you and—”
Tate led her away without giving her a chance to respond.
* * *
HANNAH WAS SHAKEN. No, shaken didn’t even begin to cover how she felt—like someone had stuck her in a giant clothes dryer and left her tumbling for days.
Tate stopped near the bar where Cricket and Adele were huddled close.
“Cricket, Hannah and I are leaving. Can you make sure Adele gets back to the hotel safely?”
He grinned. “Yep, I won’t let her out of my sight.”
Adele scowled. “I can get myself back to the hotel. Hannah, are you okay?”
She nodded. “Tired, and just a little out of sorts.” She shivered and brushed her hands over her arms.
She heard Tate mutter something to Cricket before he stepped away. Where was he going? She kind of wanted to follow him...
Adele took her by the hand. “Sweetie, you are really pale? Are you coming down with something?”
She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out, and the next thing she knew Tate was standing beside her again. He’d somehow found her jacket along the seemingly endless line of pegs and cubbies against the wall. How had he managed that so quickly? He held it while she slipped into it. He linked the fingers of his hand through hers and the warmth from him somehow began to melt the icy cold that had settled through her body. She smiled weakly at Adele, who promised not to be late, and allowed Tate to lead her outside.
She inhaled deeply, hoping the frigid air would bring her back to her senses. Tate continued to hold her hand and she let herself be comforted by the feel of his skin against hers, allowed herself to wish he would take her in his arms and tell her... What? She didn’t even know.
They walked a ways in silence before he asked, “How do you know Spencer Kitt? From your competition days?”
She glanced in his direction without making eye contact. “Yes, we were... We used to be...”
“In a relationship?” he supplied.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“I do.”
“What? Why?”
“Because, I... Hannah, I’m sorry about what happened between us. I royally screwed up and I know it. I kissed you and then on Christmas Eve I realized how little I have to offer you. I got scared. Your upbringing—your family, is so...perfect. And I didn’t have that. I don’t even know what a real family means—or does, or even talks about. But I’d like to try and figure it out. I’d like to try again—with you.”