“I have a better idea,” Jason says. “Let’s test out the fireplace.”

  He emerges from behind the counter and walks toward the living room. I stand up off of my stool, and immediately feel a rush to my head. I thought I wasn’t really feeling the alcohol in the drinks so far, but now I notice that I definitely am. The pleasant buzz is unexpected, and it seems to soften the room around me.

  Jason starts the fire by pressing a button on a sleek remote control. He stands for a moment, and as I walk toward him, I have the wild, alcohol-fueled idea that I could just walk right up to him, wrap my hands around his sturdy frame, and lay my head against his chest.

  Just a hug, that’s all I want. Kids need physical contact once in a while, and so do adults. A warm hug would feel so good, but I probably wouldn’t be able to stop there.

  An image of the two of us kissing flashes through my mind.

  Though my thoughts are a mile away, my feet are grounded in the here and now. They carry me, responsibly, toward the couch that’s facing the fireplace. I plop down, my drink in hand.

  “What do you mean, ‘test out the fireplace’?” I ask, folding my legs up beneath me, so that I’m kneeling on the soft couch cushions. “You really haven’t fired this baby up yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “How long have you and Charlie been here?”

  “A week yesterday,” he says. He steps toward the couch, and I feel whole body yearn for his closeness. When he sits, though, it’s a tentative posture. He’s on the very edge of the couch, a responsible distance from me.

  “How long were you planning to stay—before the evacuation?” I ask.

  “We had fourteen days booked, but I was going to cut it short. I should have left yesterday.”

  “For that important meeting you kept mentioning?” I guess. “Or was Charlie getting homesick?

  “Yeah, the meeting.” He sips his drink. “Charlie would stay here for months on end if it was up to him. The kid loves to ski.”

  “And loves to be on vacation with his dad, I’m guessing.”

  “That too… I think. Though I wasn’t doing the best job at being present. I tried.”

  “Work stuff?”

  “Yeah. It’s hard to step away. I try to get away from it all—to plan these vacations so that I can spend some quality time with him, not to mention relax a little myself, but it seems like work always finds me.”

  “You could turn off your phone,” I suggest.

  “I can’t,” he says. “What if something happens? Which, you know, it did. I think I told you… One of the deals we’re working on started to fall though, so I had to schedule a meeting, very unexpectedly.”

  His voice, which has been deep and sexy, climbs up a notch. A crease forms on his brow. He’s getting stressed just talking about work.

  I can’t help it. I slide over a little bit closer to him, and then reach my hand out. I rub his upper arm a few times, very lightly. It’s a friendly gesture, and it seems to have the effect that I wanted. Instantly, he’s distracted by my touch, and his train of thought seems to be derailed.

  He turns to me. “Are you feeling warmer?”

  “Yes,” I answer, but he doesn’t seem convinced.

  “Here,” he says, reaching for a blanket that’s lying on the back of the couch. As he grabs it, he moves deeper into the couch, so he’s no longer perched on the edge. He hands me the silky throw, and I drape it over my bare legs.

  We’re both quiet for a moment, staring into the fire.

  “Even though we were here for a week before the evacuation, it didn’t really feel like vacation,” Jason says. “But these past few days have really been something else.

  He leans back against the couch, and I find myself pulled, as if by a gravitational force, closer to him. I’m definitely buzzed—I’m sure I wouldn’t feel this comfortable around him if I was sober. As I inch closer to him, he seems to settle in toward me as well. I lift the blanket and offer an edge to him, and he pulls it over his lap.

  I can feel the side of my knee and part of my thigh just barely grazing the fabric of his jeans beneath the blanket.

  He speaks softly. “I feel like I was able to just be here— enjoying this…this place. Charlie. You.”

  As he says the last word, his hand lands on top of the blanket, on top of my leg. He lets it rest there, and I don’t object.

  “It’s been nice, hasn’t it?” I say. My voice is hushed. “I almost don’t want it to end.”

  “You probably have to get back to work too, hm?” Jason asks.

  I shake my head. “Actually…I don’t have a job to go back to,” I admit. “I was laid off. They told me over the holidays, and my last day was in March—two weeks ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I mean—it’s not okay, really, but I have to make it okay. I have to get through it. I won’t be able to keep my apartment, and it’s going to be practically impossible to find work until the next school year starts up, but…” I stop myself, because I hear my own voice rising, just as Jason’s did when he was talking about work.

  “It’s going to be okay, Harper,” Jason says.

  The sound of him saying my name sends shivers up my spine. It definitely distracts me from my anxious monologue.

  “Thanks.” I exhale, and then turn to him. “It feels good to hear that,” I say honestly.

  “I mean it,” Jason says.

  I don’t know whether it’s my relief at finally spilling my secret unemployment, or a sense of rum-fueled boldness, but suddenly I blurt out, “Jason, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “What… I mean, where… Um… Why isn’t Charlie’s mom here, with you?”

  Jason doesn’t answer at first, and I’m worried that I’ve ruined the evening by asking such an intrusive question. Here we were, getting all cozy on the couch… Why did I have to go and spoil it?

  Finally, he speaks. “She’s no longer with us. Car accident. It’s been five years now,” he says. His face looks pained.

  It’s my turn to offer condolences. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  Though I feel bad about asking such a prying question, I also feel like it somehow cleared the air between us. I feel closer to him.

  “You’ve done a great job with Charlie,” I say. “He’s one of the sweetest little kids I’ve ever met.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. You’re one of the sweetest people I’ve met.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. “You have a good heart. I can sense that about you.”

  “You too…” I say.

  Now my leg has relaxed against his. The contact between us is steady and sure. His hand isn’t just lying on top of my leg, as if it’s landed there by accident. Instead, his palm is spread wide. I can feel heat from it. There’s a certainty in his touch.

  I tilt my chin up to look at him. He’s already looking down at me, and our eyes lock.

  In that moment, I know for sure: I like this man, more than I ever thought was possible. It’s a stronger feeling than I’ve ever had in my life.

  His deep eyes hold my gaze. His lashes are light brown, like his sandy hair and the stubble over his chin. His lips are slightly parted, and I can feel his breath, soft against my cheek. It smells like ginger, sweet mint, and the faintest hint of alcohol. I wonder what his lips taste like. Also like mint? Rum?

  He’s inching closer to me, just barely. I feel my breath coming out, shallow and fast.

  Just then, his phone rings. I swear, that ringtone is now my least favorite sound in the whole world.

  We both startle, and then Jason reaches into his pocket, and searches for his phone. As he moves, I pull myself away from him. Resituating myself, I realize that I was practically sitting in his lap. How did that happen?

  This night is getting out of hand.

  I reach for my glass, and see that I’ve almost polished off my drink. I take the last sip, and it’s watery with melted ice. Jason’s looking at his phone, and after one more round of rings, he silences it without picking up.

  “It’s the office,” he says. “They must have forgotten about the time difference, or else they never would have called this late.”

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “Almost midnight,” Jason says.

  The ringing seems to have cleared my head. What am I doing, sitting here in my nightgown, with a man I barely know?

  Never mind the fact that he’s gorgeous and kind, I have no business being here. I stand, and the blanket falls off of me. I begin to walk toward the door.

  I can hear Jason’s footsteps behind me.

  “I should be going.” I place my hand on the door handle.

  Before pulling it open, I turn to Jason. He’s standing close. I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but I can’t stop myself. I step forward, and wrap my arms around him and squeeze him, like I’m hugging a long-lost friend. I think it’s because of my nurturing nature—I can’t stand to see anyone hurting, and Jason did just tell me that Charlie’s mother passed away.

  He hugs me back, and it feels so good to press my body against his, and to feel his strong arms around me. I step back before it can start to feel too good, and I yank open the door.

  Once I’m out in the hallway, I dare to look back at him.

  He looks sorry to see me go, but I can’t read too much into that. I know that I have to keep moving if I’m going to end this night with my dignity intact.

  I step backwards.

  “Goodnight, Harper,” he says.

  Once again, the sound of my name on his lips causes a shiver to run through my core.

  “Goodnight,” I murmur.

  Half an hour later, I’m tucked snug in my bed. I switch off the light, and close my eyes. The image of Jason, standing in the doorway, seems to be burned on the back of my lids.

  And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Chapter 9

  Harper

  It’s morning.

  Early morning. I can tell by the color of the pale light peeking through the slats in the polished wooden blinds.

  Someone is knocking at my door.

  I know better than to make the same mistake twice. This time, before answering the door, I grab leggings and my sweatshirt and pull them on over my nighty.

  When I pull the door open, I’m greeted by Jason and Charlie. Both are dressed for the day, despite the early hour. Charlie has his jacket and hat on, and Jason, too, is wearing his red parka. Charlie is holding his father’s hand.

  Is this day two of the snowman-making club? Did I miss the memo about the start time?

  “Good morning,” I say groggily.

  Jason is hiding a laugh.

  “I know, I know, it’s early. But we couldn’t wait to come get you.”

  “For what?”

  “Want to tell her the news?” Jason signs to his son.

  Charlie seems to be in a quiet mood. In fact, he still seems to be a little bit sleepy, like me. In addition to his father’s hand, he’s also holding onto a stuffed white teddy bear, whose paws drag on the floor. Given the chance, Charlie looks like he’d crawl back into bed. He’s frowning too, and I wonder if that’s also due to the early hour, or if something else is on his mind.

  “Okay then,” Jason says, looking from his sullen, sleepy son. “I’ll do the honors. Harper, pack your bags. Help is on the way.”

  “Really?” My voice sounds incredulous, because I feel incredulous. I was outside yesterday… We all were. The roads were still covered with three feet of snow, and there wasn’t a plow in sight.

  “Really,” Jason says.

  “Okay.” I push a hand through my hair, trying to figure out what might have happened while I slept. A nocturnal army of road-workers? A surprise Roussillon rescue squad, sent to save us?

  “I’ll pack my stuff. Do I have time to take a quick shower?”

  I’m not sure where the rescue shuttle will take us, but I’m guessing we might be in for a long day of traveling. I want to be ready.

  “Sure,” Jason says. “Just meet us in the lobby when you’re ready.”

  “Okay,” I say. I don’t have a chance to ask him anything else—like where our rescuers will be taking us—before he and Charlie leave and I’m left in shock.

  Within twenty minutes, I’ve taken the world’s fastest shower, blow-dried my hair, and dressed for the day.

  All of my items are jammed back into my rolling suitcase, and I’m riding the elevator down toward the lobby. I don’t know what to expect when I get there. Will the lights be on? Will the staff be back in position?

  But as the elevator doors open, I see the same post-apocalyptic-feeling lobby that I’ve gotten used to: it’s dark, the fires are unlit, and it’s completely empty, except for my two companions, who are seated at our usual table.

  The early morning natural sunlight seems surprisingly pale and cool as it streams through the open windows. It fills the lobby with a grey haze, almost like smoke.

  My suitcase rolls loudly behind me as I approach the table.

  Jason has scrounged up to-go coffee cups, and he hands me one that warms my chilled palms. There’s also a plate of muffins out, and I wonder momentarily if we should stop raiding the kitchen, now that the hotel staff is back in the picture. But my desire for a muffin outweighs my concerns about stealing, and I reach for one and bite into it.

  Jason is typing a message into his phone, and Charlie is pulling a pair of little blue pants over the legs of his teddy bear.

  I eat a few more bites of my muffin, and wash it down with the coffee, which is dark, strong, and hits the spot. I’m feeling more alert with every passing moment.

  Jason finishes his message, and slides his phone back into his pocket.

  “All right,” he says, standing. “That’s it. We should be all set to go. You want to take your breakfast with you?”

  “Sure,” I say, still not really understanding what is happening. What does he mean we’re all set to go? There’s no one here but us.

  Jason kneels down to Charlie’s level so that he can sign. “Charlie, buddy, want to take a muffin for the ride?”

  Charlie nods, and Jason wraps up a muffin in a napkin and places it in a little blue backpack, along with a water bottle off of the table. He hands the bag to Charlie, who dutifully stands and shoulders it.

  Apparently, we’re about to hit the road. But how?

  I take a last bite of the muffin, deciding to leave the rest. Coffee in one hand, suitcase in the other, I follow Jason and Charlie toward the hotel’s main exit.

  Jason is rolling a large suitcase that has a briefcase strapped to the top of it so that it forms one, compact unit. He moves with swift determination, like a pro traveler making a tight connection at an airport, and Charlie and I have to struggle to keep up with him.

  As we step out into the fresh air, I grow even more suspicious. The roads have definitely not been plowed. Was there some kind of miscommunication? Because whoever promised Jason a ride out of the village was full of—

  My thoughts are cut short by a roaring sound that fills my ears.

  Visions of avalanches dance through my head, but within a split second, I know that’s not the sound of falling snow. It’s a steady, rhythmic whirring sound. I turn to my right, and see a helicopter, perched on the Roussillon’s helipad. It’s black, shiny, and has the words “Raynes” written along the side in white block letters.

  My mouth falls open. Jason turns and sees me gaping. Charlie, on the other hand, is walking toward the chopper as casually as if it’s a bright yellow school bus.

  “What?” says Jason mischievously. “Never ridden in a helicopter before?”

  I try to arrange my features so that I look less shocked, but apparently, I’m not succeeding, because Jason backtracks to me.

  He loops an arm around my shoulders, and guides me forward.

  “Nothing to be scared about,” he says. He has to put his lips close to my ear when he speaks, so that I can hear him above the sound of the propeller. “Who knows when the roads are going to clear? I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

  We catch up with Charlie, who has stopped a safe distance from the whirling blades.

  A co-pilot is heading toward us, jogging in a crouch with his head held low and his back stooped. He reaches us and swiftly shouts out a greeting before grabbing Jason’s luggage and jogging back toward the helicopter.

  Jason removes his arm from around my shoulder. He steps away, toward his son. Charlie reaches for his hand.

  “Ready?” Jason signs.

  Charlie nods casually. He really seems like a pro at this.

  I’m still in shock. A private helicopter? I mean, I knew this man was wealthy, but so far, in the neutral grounds of the hotel, I suppose I’ve allowed myself to forget just how wealthy he really is.

  He’s a billionaire. This helicopter is probably just one of an entire fleet at his disposal—who knows?

  I’ve just never been around wealthy people like this. I feel myself gulp, though I haven’t sipped any coffee. My eyes are wide, and I feel my hair being buffeted in all directions by the machine-made air currents.

  Jason glances at me. “How about you, are you ready?” he asks me.

  “I think so,” I manage to say after a moment. I grip my suitcase tighter, but as I do, the co-pilot starts running back to us. He jogs up to me, and puts a hand out for my bag. I roll it toward him.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he says, before carrying it away just like he did with Jason’s bag.

  “Keep your head low!” Jason shouts, over the noise. “Bend your knees—stay down, right up until you climb in. Whatever you do, don’t stand up!”

  I feel a little bit frightened, but I nod anyways. I can do this. Jason starts to walk forward, holding Charlie’s hand, but before he gets into the propeller zone, he stops and looks over his shoulder.

  “Oh, and Harper?”

  “Yeah?” I shout.

  “You look really cute when you’re surprised. I’ve never seen your eyes so big.” He grins, and then turns around. Together, he and Charlie move toward the passenger doors, which the co-pilot has opened for us. I follow after them, my heart fluttering with his compliment.