A Family Like Hannah's. Carol Ross
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up right now because I know you’ve got this important meeting and all. But Park was in the rental shop this morning snooping around and telling me how to arrange everything. What’s up with that?”
She felt a surge of annoyance. Park Lowell was a shareholder, board member, snowboarder and all-around pain in Hannah’s neck. He also coveted her job and everyone knew it.
“Trying to impress Tate Addison, no doubt. I’ll talk to him.” And remind him who the project manager is, she added silently.
“I didn’t listen to him anyway. Just thought you’d want to know.”
“Definitely. I’m always interested in what Park is up to, especially where Snowy Sky is concerned.”
Freddie nodded. “Amen to that.”
* * *
TATE ARRIVED NEARLY two hours early for his meeting, wanting to inspect the resort’s progress thus far without any biased commentary from the project manager. He’d been using a snow machine Park Lowell had set him up with to scout things out when he noticed that one of the chairlifts was operating. He watched the lift smoothly glide along for a few minutes, admiring the triple-fixed grip chair units before he realized someone was riding on one of them.
Hmm, good timing, workers must be performing some maintenance or running a test. Nice to see construction appeared to be right on schedule or perhaps even a bit ahead of projections, an incredible feat for a project of this magnitude.
Suddenly the lift slowed and then halted completely. Movement caught his eye as the rider then slipped from the chair and sailed downward through the air. He felt his stomach fall right along with the rider, followed quickly by a genuine burst of fear when the person hit the ground and disappeared beneath the deep snow, a puff of powder drifting up to form a white cloud.
Tate hurriedly throttled up the snow machine and sped in that direction. A fall like that could be disastrous—deadly even. His heart hammered loudly in his head as possibilities surfaced, each one more gruesome than the last. He forced himself to focus on what he needed to do. Stopping the machine as he neared the location, he hopped off and moved quickly toward the spot. When he got close he dropped to the ground and crawled toward the indentation.
Calmly, but loudly he called out, “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Can you hear me? Say something if you can hear me?”
* * *
HANNAH’S BLISSFUL MOMENT was abruptly interrupted by a deep voice shouting at her. Was she okay? Of course she was okay. She had assumed the sound of the snow machine was Freddie coming to fetch her even though she’d asked him to wait for her call. But this wasn’t Freddie’s voice.
She opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with a handsome and concerned-looking Tate Addison. She groaned. What terrible timing.
“Where does it hurt?”
Why was he shouting? “Nothing hurts,” she said flatly. He was going to think she was crazy. This was also a tad embarrassing. How could she explain?
She tried to distract him instead. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“Miss, are you okay?” Voice even louder now as he enunciated very slowly, “Did you hit your head?”
Sitting up, she dusted snow from the front of her coat. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I saw you fall.” He pointed up.
“I didn’t fall. I jumped.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s fun?” Hannah posed the question-answer with a sheepish grin.
It was true that she didn’t want the guy anywhere near her resort, but it was also true, she admitted, that it was cute how his mouth dipped down at the corners along with his brows.
She knew he was nice looking, but she hadn’t expected him to be so...
Stern, she finished the thought as he went on in a very serious tenor, “It’s fun to fall twenty feet into a pile of snow? That’s dangerous. Are you aware of what could happen if you got stuck or how about landing on something—a rock or a branch? Did you think of that? And what if you landed wrong and broke your neck, or worse?”
Hannah wasn’t sure what to make of his anxious tone. She supposed witnessing the “fall” had made him nervous, but she certainly wouldn’t have done it if she’d known he was here. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be here for at least another hour or two, and why was he nosing around on his own?
In an attempt to reassure him, she said, “Twenty feet is a bit of an overstatement. And I wouldn’t do it any old time. I’m aware of the conditions. There are no rocks here, there’s a deep enough base, plenty of fresh powder. And you fall backwards—like this, so that when you land...” Leaning her body back to demonstrate, she caught a glimpse of his disapproving expression. Suddenly she felt like a teenager defending herself to a stodgy grown-up.
He shook his head, a look of incredulity stamped on his face. “I don’t understand why you would knowingly take such a risk. I mean, what are you...?”
She kind of wanted to tell him to lighten up, but knew it would behoove her to make a good impression on him. The more he liked her and Snowy Sky, the less change he would recommend and the sooner she could get back to normal.
Untying her hood, she pushed it back from her face, turned on a bright smile and stuck out a snow-covered glove. “Mr. Addison, it’s nice to meet you—even in this rather, um, unconventional manner. But how’s this for some great snow?”
What looked like a mix of skepticism and disbelief furrowed his brow. “What? Who...are you?”
“I’m Hannah James, project manager here at Snowy Sky.”
* * *
TATE STARED INTO the pretty golden-brown eyes of the woman in front of him and felt a stir of something—no, a mix of so many things.
She was project manager? He knew the project manager was a woman named Hannah James and that she was a former professional skier. But he didn’t know her. He’d thought the name sounded vaguely familiar, but he’d been expecting someone older. And much less...attractive.
She tucked a thick brown braid into the back of her jacket. Smooth, honey-toned skin made it impossible to tell her age.
He found himself blurting, “How old are you?” And immediately wished he could take the question back.
“Excuse me?”
Why had he asked that? Back in his early snowboarding days he’d hated when people had asked him that very question, which they’d done a lot because he had been young and talented and often competing against guys much older and twice or three times his size. He had never thought his age was relevant and now here he was asking the question of someone else.
“Sorry. So, uh, you’re the project manager? Hannah James?”
“Yes. I am. Hannah James.”
He noticed the tightness in her jaw and thought, uh-oh. He hadn’t meant to offend her, and he knew very well this process would go a lot smoother if he could make friends with her, convince her the resort would benefit from his recommendations.
Attempting to reduce the tense moment with honesty and a touch of remorse, he winced. “Oh, man... Ms. James, I’m so sorry. I may not have had the most traditional upbringing, but I do know better than to ask a woman her age.”
He added his own sheepish grin. “You, however, look very young and I was surprised. I am taken aback and embarrassed by my behavior. Can we start over?”
* * *
SURELY HE WASN’T implying she was too young for this job? And why in the world would he think that, Hannah? After he just witnessed you jumping off the chairlift like some kind of reckless teenager?
But