Maybe This Christmas

“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 supportive.

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.