by Pamela Aares
“It’s not like the players don’t have a choice. There are contracts, agents, a players’ union.” Chloe waved her hand, apparently uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “Baseball’s a business, Brigitte. A fun one, but it’s still a business.”
Zoe hadn’t considered what Chloe had to face as an owner of a sports team. The men’s bodies and the condition of those bodies mattered to the success of her business. She knew from her own experience playing polo that psyche, experience and soul were key to a player’s performance, but whatever the sport, injured players couldn’t be fielded. She laughed at the irony. If Parker hadn’t injured himself the day of her charity polo match, she might never have fallen for Cody, might not even have met him that day. And if she’d never met him, she wouldn’t be dreading what was supposed to be a fun weekend in a winter wonderland.
“The Ahwahnee’s a big lodge,” Chloe said as she downshifted and then glanced at Zoe. “You’ll like it. Plenty of room inside and out if you don’t want to be in close quarters with Cody.”
But that was just the problem. She did want to be in close quarters with Cody. With just about every ounce of her being.
Fat flakes of snow blew in swirls all around them, dancing in the intermittent sunlight peeking through the clouds and making the road and the trees lining it appear like features inside a child’s snow globe. Zoe loved snow. Loved the winters she’d spent skiing and snowshoeing in the Alps. But the near magical scene they drove through in the majestic Yosemite Valley didn’t do a thing to calm her nerves.
The energy that drew her to Cody was nearly irresistible, which was why she’d kept her distance from the moment he’d said he liked her. She knew what he’d meant and had needed to cut off the contact for both their sakes. She needed a strategy, a good one, if she was going to avoid close quarters with him. She ran scenarios in her mind, barely hearing Coco chattering on about her calendar project.
As they pulled up in front of the towering stone and wood lodge, she hit upon a plan. Donning the snowshoes she’d bought at the sports store and heading out onto a powder-blown trail would keep her out of the lodge most of the afternoon. She could sneak back to the lodge, eat dinner in her room and ask Chloe to drive her to Groveland in the morning, where she could rent a car and head back to Sonoma. Chloe was right, there were options. The day didn’t have to be a disaster.
Even though Cody had been an Ansel Adams fan for as long as he could remember, not one of the photos Cody had seen captured the majesty of Yosemite Valley. Icicle-draped pines and oaks edged meadows blanketed with snow, and massive walls of granite towered a mile above him.
He pulled his truck over and got out. He’d refused Alex’s invitation for a ride; it was odd enough coming up to the mountains with a gang of guys. He was far more comfortable alone, and having his own wheels was a safety measure.
He leaned against the door of his truck and grimaced as wetness seeped into his shirt. He should’ve let the chain installer put the chains on his truck, but he knew from a buddy back in Montana that the season was short and sparser now that so many SUVs weren’t required to have chains. A guy needed to get in as many installations as possible, so Cody had just paid him and waved him on to the car full of tourists behind him. Mark had put his kids through college with the extra earnings from the brutal work. The guy who’d gladly pocketed Cody’s cash was probably doing the same. Cody pulled on his jacket, threw down a tarp and linked the chains to his tires. It would be a helluva way to make a living.
After entering the park, he stopped his truck at the side of the main road leading through the valley. The distinctive quiet of a winter day after a heavy snowfall wrapped him in a hushed embrace. The only relief from the shades of white was the spears at the tops of the pines where the snow hadn’t caught and the gray cotton-ball clouds billowing above Cathedral Peak.
A few snowflakes fluttered in the calmed wind, but their quiet dance didn’t distract his attention from the advancing clouds. After so many winters spent in the Montana mountains, Cody’s body read the weather better than any instrument. They were in for a storm and a good one.
He had to smile as he pulled up to the lodge. The Ahwahnee was about as far from roughing it as a person could get. Layered with snow and dancing with lights spilling out from the vast interior, it looked like a castle plunked down in the middle of a mountain meadow.
He parked next to Alex’s Jeep. Parker and Alex came out with a bellhop and a luggage cart. Scotty followed close behind.
“Welcome to paradise,” Parker said as he grabbed Cody’s duffel and put it on the cart. “If I could’ve designed a building, I couldn’t have done better than this. Thank God for Lady Astor. The Park Service had this lodge built just so she and her rich and famous friends would come out here, fall in love with the place and ensure that the park was funded and protected. But we get to enjoy the results.”
A family of four bobbed past them with their equipment in tow. They’d probably saved for a year or more just to spend a few days at the lodge. Cody had had to think twice about coming since the price tag wasn’t easy to swallow.
“Remember to take everything out of your vehicle,” the bellhop said. “The bears will go after wrappers or toothpaste, even sunscreen.”
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Parker said. “Just as soon as I help Scotty unload Chloe’s gear.”
“You can stack Chloe’s skis over here with mine,” Scotty said.
“Chloe came up?” Cody tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. No one had mentioned that the women were joining them.
“Yeah, the rat. She’ll be doing downhill runs with Brigitte.” Scotty piled bags onto the cart. “Meanwhile, I’ll be cross-country trekking with the rest of you chumps.”
“Ciao, Cody.” Adrian had come outside and now opened the case at the top of his SUV. He pulled out a high-tech pair of snowshoes and handed them to the bellhop, along with a ten-dollar bill. “Would you take these to Room 212, Zoe Tavonesi. She’s expecting you.”
Zoe.
Zoe.
Cody barely noticed the opulence of the lodge as he registered and gave the bellhop a tip to take his bags and equipment up to his room. His thoughts raced at the prospect of seeing Zoe. Though he hadn’t heard from her since the afternoon at his place, she’d been constantly on his mind. And in his dreams. Dreams he thought he’d be better off forgetting.
“Let’s head into the Great Lounge and join our ladies,” Parker said. “A warm fire and a hot toddy are just the thing after that drive.”
They walked through the timbered interior, past floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking views of the valley, and into a vast room with a great stone fireplace draped with pine bows and garlands of ribbons.
“Not exactly as I would have decorated the place,” Parker said. “But not bad.”
Not bad? Cast-iron chandeliers hung from the soaring ceiling, casting a golden glow across polished wood floors and deepening the colors of woven carpets and the tapestries lining the walls. The room was rich and inviting.
“We thought you’d never arrive,” a woman with a distinctly French accent said from her perch in an overstuffed chair next to the cavernous fireplace. She held one of her hands out to Cody. The other clutched a mug of steaming liquid. “We haven’t been introduced. But I’ve seen you play. I’m Brigitte.”
Cody shook her hand. In the past he might’ve been interested in the exotic French beauty with the lush voice and intriguing accent. But damned if Zoe hadn’t ruined him for other women.
Brigitte handed Scotty the glass mug she held in her other hand. “They tried to serve me tea, but this cider toddy is divine. I may never leave this chair.”
“You may have to fight me for it,” Matt said as he walked up. “Alana texted me from Paris,” he added as he lifted a steaming mug from the tray on a nearby table. “She’s envious of our outing, but Sophie’s in heaven. After two hours in Notre Dame, Alana had to drag her out to a café. I’m just lucky that Alana gets that a po
unding day of cross-country skiing is better for my soul than either historic buildings or French cafés.”
Coco giggled. “Alana may have to adjust her shopping schedule. Sophie’s determined to see every painting in Paris.”
“It’ll take more than a grammar school child to keep Alana off the boulevard,” Brigitte said with a laugh.
Cody surveyed his friends lounging on comfortable couches and chairs. If he’d known the women were coming, he would’ve asked if Kat could join them. She could use a getaway from her work, and she loved the snow.
But where was Zoe?
When she still hadn’t shown up five minutes later, he caught Coco’s eye. “Where’s your sister?”
“Oh, she’s here. Well, not here—she’s gone snowshoeing. She mentioned something about Snow Creek.”
“You let her go? In this weather?”
“Evidently you don’t know my sister so well,” Coco said with a grin. “It’s not like I could’ve stopped her. But I did make her promise to buy one of those little emergency kits at the gift shop. And a map. She said she’d be back by dark.”
Cody turned toward one of the windows, but Coco drew his attention back with a couple taps on his arm.
“Don’t fret,” she said. “She’s been skiing and snowshoeing since she could walk. In the Alps,” she added. “Not too different from this.”
“But with a storm brewing?” Cody couldn’t believe no one was concerned.
“The weather guy said it’ll be hours before that storm hits. Maybe not until tomorrow,” Brigitte said, as if an outdated report was reliable.
But Cody knew the wiles of winter storms in the mountains. And this one was coming in fast. From the looks of the clouds, it’d be a doozy. The weather guy, whoever he was, obviously hadn’t bothered to look out his window.
“Want me to come with you?” Scotty asked.
Cody hadn’t realized he’d already started moving across the room.
“No. I’ll just catch up with her and turn her back.” He appreciated Scotty’s offer, but the last thing he needed was a flatlander from Nebraska to keep track of or slow him down.
“Wait for Adrian. He can go with you,” Coco said as she sipped at her drink.
“Or I can go,” Parker volunteered. “But she’ll be steamed. She hates to be hovered over.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just head out. I could use the trek to stretch my legs.” Cody didn’t want to throw up an alarm if it wasn’t really needed. If she had only half an hour on him, he’d catch up easily.
He didn’t even take in the room he’d be sleeping in except to glance out the window and note that the dark clouds had already topped the peaks in the near distance. He threw on his snow parka and grabbed both his skis and snowshoes, along with his daypack. Before he left the room he tried calling her but received a message saying the person he was trying to call was out of reach. No kidding. He didn’t need a wireless company to tell him that.
He bought a map in the gift store and confirmed with the clerk that Zoe had asked about Snow Creek Trail. He was told he’d have to wait for a shuttle. Fifteen minutes.
Outside, he went straight for his truck. No way in hell was he going to wait for a shuttle bus. Let them fine him. He didn’t like the hushed, expectant feeling hanging in the air. The charged molecules that led snowstorms were best appreciated from a doorway leading to a very warm, very secure building. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to feel while alone in the wilderness.
When he reached the trailhead, he tied his snowshoes to his pack and donned his cross-country skis. At the last minute he grabbed the folding shovel he kept shoved behind the seat. Overkill and extra weight, but better to be safe. He eyed the tarp he’d used when he’d installed the chains. It was still wet, but he stuffed it into his pack anyway. He did a quick mental check of his gear. In his hurry he’d forgotten to pack a flashlight. Not that it’d be much good in a blizzard. And if the snow whipping faster around him and dimming the sky was any indication, a blizzard was definitely on the docket.
Zoe’s tracks were easy to follow. Plus he had the advantage of being on skis. That and longer, stronger legs. He was sure to catch her before too long, before the storm obliterated all signs of the trail.
Clouds blurred the last rays of sun. Over his shoulder he saw the telltale silky streamers of snow marching up the valley toward him—lovely at a distance but potentially deadly up close. The dark center of the clouds billowed up, heavy and gray, churning and obscuring the skyline. Half Dome was no longer visible.
The trail was steeper now, and he had to switch out of his skis and strap on his snowshoes. He used the shovel to slash marks in the trees as high as his arms would reach—bending branches might not work if there was a dump of heavy snow.
The gloomy light settled around him, with snow stirred by the howling wind whipping his face. Only once in his life had he seen a blizzard move in this fast. But this valley was known for its unpredictable storms in any season. All of them could strand an unprepared visitor. He was getting a firsthand look he could’ve done without as snow fell heavy and relentless. Usually a good snowstorm lifted his spirits. He loved the way a big storm could stop time and give a man pause, make moments linger or open him to new thoughts. But there was nothing friendly or useful about this storm. And time, instead of pausing, was racing on, and he was racing against it.
He cursed. If Zoe had experience like her siblings said, she should’ve known better than to go out in such threatening weather. But then, the storm had blown up fast, surprising him as well. But when he caught up with her he’d—he’d what? He’d find a way for them to wait out the storm in safety, that’s what. He could give her a piece of his mind for scaring him half to death when they returned to the lodge. If he found her. Her tracks were filling with snow.
He climbed a couple of steep switchbacks, his heart pounding with the effort. The woman had stamina, he’d give her that. He just wished she’d had a bit less the last few minutes.
After half a dozen more steep switchbacks, her tracks veered right, off through some trees. If he hadn’t had tracking skills honed from years in the woods, he might not have seen them.
About thirty yards from the main trail, the tracks stopped. The snow had fallen away from the side of a cliff in a mini-avalanche.
He called out her name. No answer.
He stripped off his pack and dug out his binoculars, but all he could see was the white rage of snow.
Cupping his hands to his mouth, he hauled in the deepest breath he could and yelled out her name.
“Here!”
He trained the binoculars in the direction of her voice and yelled again.
“Here! I’m down here!”
“Do. Not. Move.” He bellowed the command with the full force of his lungs. He couldn’t see her, but he could make his way across the snow and down to where he was pretty sure she was marooned. He used one of his skis to test the path in front of him for the snow’s stability. Decent, but not ideal; the slide had done some damage. If he slid down the cliffside or dropped into an air pocket hidden in a drift and couldn’t free himself, they’d both end up freezing to death. Separately. He edged his snowshoes deep with each step, testing his footing before putting his full weight onto his extended leg. As he picked his way down the sloping snow, he battled back thoughts of throttling her.
He called out again.
“Cody!” she answered.
At least he was close enough that she could recognize his voice.
“Stay, Zoe. Don’t try to come to me. I’ll be there soon.”
He had images of her trying to help and setting off another slide. Then he saw an outline of a tree ahead, her back against its trunk. Smart girl.
“Cody!” She started toward him.
He put his hand up. “No. Stay.”
He closed the distance between them in four quick lunges in the knee-deep snow. He grabbed her, and with more force than he’d intended. And then he k
issed her. The combination of her cool lips and the warmth of her mouth shocked the full-on reality of fear into him. He hadn’t realized until he had her in his arms that he hadn’t been sure he’d find her in time. He broke off the kiss but still held her face in his gloved hands.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” His heart pounded so fast, so loud, he was sure she could hear it. He felt her shivering and saw the fear in her eyes. He didn’t want her to be afraid. They had some serious work ahead of them if they were to survive the night.
“I—I saw some rabbits and I walked over to take a look and then the snow slid and, well, I couldn’t get back up the cliff and then more snow slid and then—”
He put his finger to her lips. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” He cradled her head to his chest and rocked her for a moment. But there was little time for comforting. Soon there’d be no light. And he knew what lay ahead.
He backed away and dropped his gear and skis to the packed snow at the base of the tree. “Put this around you,” he said as he stripped out of his parka. “And stay put, Zoe.” She started to protest. “I mean it. I know what I’m doing. Just stay put. I have to dig a snow cave.”
Her eyes went wide. “We can’t just walk back?”
“We’ll need light for that. And this storm isn’t half over; there’ll be no moon tonight. We’ll have to hunker down and find our way back in the morning.”
“Okay... But I can help you.”
“No.” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he knew how precious little time they had. “Just do us both a favor and don’t do anything. You can march in place; it might warm you. But do not move from this spot.”
He stripped off his sweater and then pulled his T-shirt over his head. He watched Zoe as he handed off his clothes. Damned if her eyes didn’t dilate. Under any other circumstances, he’d have read the reaction as desire.
“You’ll freeze.” She reached out to return his sweater and shirt.
“When I’m done digging I can put those back on. They’ll be dry.” He dragged his windbreaker from the front pocket of the pack, giving a silent prayer of thanks that he always left it in there. He’d learned early on in California to always have layers. But he sure hadn’t counted on needing them quite this badly.