Like Fresh Fallen Snow Read online

  She stepped out of the car and took a deep breath, happy the drive was over. The fresh, cold air filled her lungs, the scent of the pines mingling with the faint aroma of wood smoke. Her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way into the resort, and with each step, her happiness at accepting Lauren’s invitation grew. The lobby was buzzing with activity, guests checking in, skiers and snowboarders filtering through. A stone fireplace dominated the far wall, and dozens of guests mingled there, sitting in the burgundy leather chairs and enjoying an après-ski drink. Laughter echoed off of the stone and tile floor, and Ellie smiled, letting the warmth of the atmosphere seep into her bones.

  As the front desk clerk pulled up her reservation, she texted Lauren, letting her know she’d arrived. Lauren and her boyfriend Trevor had already been here for a couple of days, enjoying the skiing. Key card in hand, she dumped her stuff in her room, which was small but lovely. A queen-size bed faced a flat-screen TV that was mounted to the wall, and two caramel-colored armchairs flanked the window. She pulled the green-and-yellow plaid curtains back and sighed, touching her fingers to her mouth. Talk about a room with a view. The ski hills arched up into the sky, and in the quickly falling darkness, the mound looked like a volcano with molten lava running down its surface. Really, it was the ski runs that glowed like lava, separated by dark masses of trees, but the effect was breathtaking. Turning away, she poked her head in the bathroom and smiled when she saw the marble tile, sleek walk-in shower and large bathtub. An ornate mirror hung above the gleaming dark wood of the vanity.

  Her phone beeped loudly, emitting the communicator sound effect from Star Trek. Lauren had texted back with her room number, and Ellie grabbed her key card and hurried to meet her.

  Lauren flung open the door to her room and pulled Ellie into a hug. “You made it!”

  On the very first day of kindergarten, nearly twenty-five years ago now, Lauren had walked up to Ellie and said, “I like your shoes. Want to play?” They’d been best friends ever since.

  “I did, but just barely. I spun out on some black ice and got stuck in a snowbank.” She flopped down on the bed and something warm and tingling worked its way down her spine as she thought about the ridiculously sexy Sergeant Grayson.

  “Whoa, are you okay?” Lauren sat down beside her, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear, concern filling her eyes.

  “I’m fine. A cop stopped to help me. He dug me out.”

  “Hey, Ellie.” Trevor smiled warmly at her as he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel knotted around his hips, steam spilling out around him. He rubbed a hand over his short, black hair and a few droplets spilled onto his bare chest. His dark brown skin glistened, and she smiled at the way Lauren’s eyes practically devoured him. A sudden and unwelcome pang of jealously stabbed Ellie right in the sternum, and she rubbed a fist over her breastbone, trying to ease the ache there. Matt’s gorgeous face swam through her mind, and the ache intensified.

  “Hey, Trev.” She waved at him, her hand moving in one smooth semi-circle.

  He and Lauren exchanged a look before he took his bag and slipped back into the bathroom.

  “Okay, so tell me more about this ‘year of Ellie’ thing.” Lauren made air quotes around the words.

  Ellie stood and paced to the window, excitement and nervous energy snapping through her. “This is the year, Lauren. The year it all comes together. I think I’ve figured out where I’m going wrong.” She flicked the curtain back, loving the way the sky looked like navy velvet against the warm radiance of the ski runs. “I mean, everything else is falling into place. The website is doing really well, and I can’t believe I actually get paid to write about video games, movies, books, conventions, TV shows, clothes, whatever I want. Crossing the Streams is doing so well that I might be able to hire a full-time staff writer soon, instead of just writing most of the content myself and hiring freelancers when I need it. And I get to be on a panel at Comic-Con this year! Like, neato burrito, right?” She spun to face Lauren, who smiled widely at her, proud and supportive as always.

  “Totally neato burrito.”

  “And I love my townhouse. I love my friends. I just need to level up my relationship status. I keep going for guys who are out of my league. So, I need to play it safe. I’m sick of getting hurt. I can’t take much more rejection without turning into a crazy cat lady.”

  Catwoman is much more my type. She smiled to herself and heat warmed her cheeks.

  “It sounds like you’re talking about settling, which, Ellie, come on. You absolutely should not settle.”

  “Doesn’t everyone settle, at least a little? I mean, there’s no such thing as the perfect man.”

  Lauren’s eyes darted toward the bathroom door. “No, you’re right. No one’s perfect. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to find the one who’s perfect for you. Don’t give up.”

  “I’m not giving up. I’m giving in. I’m accepting that if I want to be with someone, I need to change the pattern. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, right? So. I’m done with insanity. I just want to be happy.”

  Lauren sighed and crossed to her, looping an arm over her shoulders. “I feel you, Ellie. I do. Dating is hard. It sucks. But I don’t want you to settle for less than you deserve.”

  “Says the woman getting laid on the regular.”

  “And you think sex would be any good with a guy who doesn’t give you butterflies?” Lauren raised an eyebrow.

  “Sex is overrated.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex. She did. A lot, when it was good, which was . . . well, almost never. Because she never seemed quite able to connect with her partner. Sometimes the chemistry was just off, sometimes she felt shy and uncomfortable asking for what she wanted or taking the lead. Sometimes she didn’t know exactly what it was she needed. When that happened, she felt frustrated and disconnected, like she had an itch somewhere on her body, but every time she tried to scratch it, it moved.

  “Oh, honey. I don’t think you’re doing it right.” Lauren frowned, shaking her head sadly.

  A surge of irritation rolled through Ellie, tensing the muscles of her shoulders. She didn’t want Lauren’s pity.

  “What kind of losers are you sleeping with?” Trevor emerged from the bathroom again, clad now in dress pants and a button-down shirt that hugged his wide chest.

  She blushed, not really wanting to discuss her sex life with Trevor. “The nonexistent kind, at the moment.”

  “I might be able to help you with that.”

  She gasped and choked on her own saliva, coughing and sputtering while thumping herself on the chest. “No thanks,” she managed to croak out, shooting Lauren a “what the hell?” look.

  Trevor laughed. “Not like that, although I’m flattered. I ran into a colleague of mine from the law firm earlier today, and I thought you two might hit it off.”

  “Your colleague is here?” Ellie tried to ignore the suspicion creeping into her brain.

  “Yeah, skiing with friends. He’s single, and I know he’s looking to settle down. I—” He glanced at Lauren, and they exchanged another knowing look. Ellie’s brain conjured up an image of Admiral Ackbar from Star Wars, warning her that this was a trap.

  “He’s going to have dinner with us. Isn’t that great?” Lauren asked, tapping the tips of her fingers together.

  “Uh, I guess. I wasn’t really expecting for tonight to turn into a blind date.” Ellie frowned, trying to muster up the appropriate response. She knew Trevor and Lauren meant well, but she’d been looking forward to just relaxing and enjoying the festivities without the added pressure of trying to impress someone. But she didn’t want to disappoint her friends. And who knew? Maybe this guy would be nice and boring and completely safe. As long as he wasn’t the real-life incarnation of Lionel Hutz, he couldn’t be that bad. “But, hey. It’ll be fun. The more the merrier, right?”

  “Exactly.” Lauren glanced at her watch. “I need to ho
p in the shower. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  After a quick hug, Ellie headed back to her room, her stomach swirling uncomfortably. She didn’t like blind dates, and she didn’t like being ambushed, but what could she do? It would cause tension if she made a stink and refused to play along, and she wasn’t willing to risk the evening she’d so been looking forward to.

  Scrunching up her mouth, she pulled her favorite royal blue cocktail dress out of her bag, unsure if it was fancy enough now that what was supposed to be a fun evening with friends had morphed into a set up. She padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hanging the dress on the back of the door so the steam could smooth away the few little wrinkles that creased the fabric. She pulled her sweater over her head and walked back to the bed, digging in her bag for her contact case. Her hand scrabbled around through the bag’s contents, searching for the small, plastic case, but to no avail. She thought she’d packed it, but now, thinking back, she only remembered getting it out at home and setting it on her dresser, not actually putting it in the bag.

  “Hope Lionel Hutz likes girls in glasses,” she muttered to herself as she stripped off her jeans and underwear and stepped under the hot spray.

  * * *

  Feeling a mixture of excitement and sadness, Matt eased his Jeep into the driveway of his little rented bungalow in Cheyenne, less than a mile from the Sheriff’s office. The green siding was peeling, and the roof over the porch was starting to sag, but it was comfortable and affordable, and it had been home for the past eighteen months now. Or maybe he was just seeing everything through graduation goggles—now that the end was here, a new beginning fresh before him, it was easy to look back and see the good in things, to already understand how he’d miss those things now that he was moving on to something bigger and better.

  Yeah. Definitely a case of graduation goggles. Because the past two years . . . well, they’d been shit.

  The cheating wife—now ex-wife—who’d had an affair with a firefighter. Goddamn firefighters, rescuing kittens, making chili, and dumping water on shit while cops did all the hard, dangerous, unpleasant work to keep people safe.

  The expensive divorce. He’d lost the house, and then Leah had come after him for alimony, which, thanks to his lawyer, she hadn’t gotten. Alimony. He snorted, just thinking about it. He’d rather give the money to the lawyer than to a woman who’d broken his heart and humiliated him in the process. He’d loved her once. Had thought they had a future together. Had wanted it all with her—the house with the garden and picket fence, the dog, the babies, the happily ever after. Turned out she hadn’t wanted any of that. At least, not with him. The last six months of their marriage, they’d fought almost constantly, and then she’d decided the solution to their problems was for her to find a fucking boyfriend.

  Not that he was bitter.

  And then there was getting shot. As he walked to his front door, his hand absently settled on the left side of his abdomen, over the ugly souvenir of a scar there that still ached occasionally. Some of the old anger rose up. How many firefighters got shot, for fuck’s sake? Certainly not the one fucking his wife, although Matt had been extremely tempted to remedy that.

  Swallowing against the acrid taste in his mouth, he turned his key in the lock and pushed the front door open, stepping into his quiet, dark, nearly empty house. He flicked on the lights and took in the cardboard boxes that lined the walls, all neatly stacked and labeled, and the excitement began to outweigh the sadness. Most of the furniture was already gone, with the exception of a few key pieces, and the walls were bare. He was officially moving out and moving on.

  It was about damn time.

  He hadn’t dated much in the almost two years since he’d left Leah. He’d gone on a few dates here and there, had a handful of harmless one-night stands, but that was it. Nothing real. Nothing meaningful. At first, it was because he hadn’t been ready for anything real and meaningful. And then he’d started to doubt he was even capable of real and meaningful; maybe the scars from the divorce ran too deep. Now, it had been months since he’d dated or slept with anyone at all, preoccupied as he was with the career change and impending move from Cheyenne to Seattle.

  He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and headed for the fridge. A cone of light sliced across the worn and scarred linoleum, illuminating the meager contents of Matt’s fridge. He pulled out a pizza box and opened it, giving the slices a cautious sniff. He’d been so preoccupied with packing, tying up loose ends at work and getting ready to move that grocery shopping hadn’t been high on his list. Glancing at his watch, he grimaced. It was New Year’s Eve, and most of the food delivery places would be slammed. His stomach grumbled loudly, reminding him that he’d missed lunch, so he decided to take his chances with the pizza. As he closed the door on the microwave and hit the reheat button, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his jeans.

  He sighed and leaned back against the counter when his twin brother’s name flashed across the screen. “Hey, Luke.”

  “Hey. How was your last day?”

  He shrugged, even though Luke couldn’t see him. “Fine, I guess. Definitely felt weird to hand in my badge and uniforms at the end of the day.”

  “You’ll have a new badge soon enough. Do detectives wear uniforms?”

  “Nope. Suits.” Every damn day. It was the only part of his new job he wasn’t excited about.

  “So, listen, did you change your mind about tonight?”

  “Uh . . .” To be honest, he hadn’t even thought about it. Last week, Luke and his new girlfriend Christie had invited him to join them for New Year’s Eve. They were going to the fancy bash at Spruce Ridge Resort, the ski lodge just outside of Centennial, about seventy miles away. He’d said maybe, knowing he probably wouldn’t want to go, but not wanting to hurt his brother’s feelings.

  “Oh, come on. You’re seriously going to sit in that half-empty house, alone, on New Year’s Eve, and not spend time with your brother, who, may I remind you, you’re abandoning to move a thousand miles away?”

  Matt dropped his eyes to the floor as guilt hit him in the stomach like a punch. “I’m not abandoning you,” he said, trying his best not to sound defensive. “This is a really good opportunity for me. I need this.”

  “I know, and you deserve it. But it’s gonna suck not having you around.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pushing away from the counter when the microwave beeped. “I don’t want to crash your plans. No offense, but it’s pretty hard not to feel like a third wheel around you two.” Luke and Christie were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and he didn’t want to be in the way, cramping their style.

  “You’re not crashing our plans. I want to spend time with you before you leave. Is that so much to ask?”

  He rubbed a hand over his face as guilt ate at him. He’d have to be a pretty big asshole to say no to that, even if he wasn’t really in a party mood. “What time?”

  “We’ll pick you up in about thirty minutes. Oh, and wear a suit.”

  Matt made a face. “Yup. See you later.”

  Lukewarm, stale pizza in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other, he sat on a stool next to the kitchen counter and flipped on the small flat-screen TV still mounted to the kitchen wall. It had come with the rental, so it was staying behind.

  He cracked the cap off his beer and took a long pull just as an old Batman re-run starring Adam West filled the screen. Immediately, his blood warmed as his mind flashed back to Ellie. It struck him with an almost alarming clarity and certainty that she wasn’t the kind of woman you had a one-night stand with. She was the kind of woman you took to dinner, to the movies, on romantic dates, and home to meet your parents. She was the kind of woman you made love to, whose body you adored and explored, taking the time to learn exactly what she needed.

  How he knew all of that after their brief interaction, he couldn’t say. He just did.

  He took another long, deep pull on his be
er and grabbed the remote, flipping away from Batman, willing himself to stop thinking of Ellie.

  Chapter 3

  “Here’s to Matt, Seattle’s newest robberies detective.” Luke’s girlfriend, Christie, raised her wine glass, smiling at him.

  Matt raised his beer glass. “It’s actually called B&T. Burglaries and theft.”

  “I was about to say we’re going to miss you, but now I’m not so sure, smart ass,” said Luke, and they all clinked glasses.

  Matt laughed and sipped his beer. The party was in full swing around them. Tony Bennett was wafting from the speakers and up to the impressive cathedral ceiling, cedar beams crisscrossing each other in an intricate design. Tuxedoed waiters walked briskly throughout the room, moving back and forth between the clusters of square tables of two, four, or eight. Thick, cream-colored linens covered the tables, each topped with a poinsettia and a grouping of candles. The overhead lights were dim, and the room was illuminated instead with warm, soft lights shining up into the beams of the ceiling. A large fire crackled merrily from the fireplace nestled into the far wall. Despite his initial reluctance, he was glad he’d come. Unlike the New Year’s Eve parties he was used to, the atmosphere was decidedly adult, and the evening stretched ahead of him with a kind of anticipatory hope. This year would be a fresh start, and after the hell of the past two years, he was more than ready to move forward.

  The windows lining the wall nearest him spread from floor to ceiling and looked out onto the brightly lit ski hills where small figures swished smoothly down the trails. He smiled to himself as light, fluffy snowflakes began to fall, drifting down like confetti and settling on the terrace outside the ballroom. Okay, maybe he would miss the snow. But only a little.