Saving Grace (Love Under the Big Sky, #2.5)(2)

“Kyle Reardon?” Jill confirms.

“Yeah, I heard that Lily has cancer.”

“That’s so sad,” Lo whispers and sips her wine.

“They have four children,” Jenna adds with a shake of her head. “That’s horrible.”

“I’ll have to go see him tomorrow, see if they need anything.” Cara pulls out her phone to make a note.

“So, back to your mini ski-cation,” Jill says with a glint in her eye. “You’re going to have so much fun.”

“I heard the lodge sold recently,” Lo adds. “I wonder who bought it?”

“Some billionaire,” Jill answers.

“Did you sell it to him?” I ask her. Jill is a real estate agent, and a damn good one.

“No, my boss got that deal.” She sighs and sticks her lower lip out in a pout. “But I hear Mr. Billionaire is hot.”

“I’ve seen him,” Jenna replies with a shrug. “He’s pretty hot. Seems nice.”

“When did you see him?” Cara asks. “You’ve been holding out!”

“I went up there for dinner one night and he was having dinner at the same time. His staff seems to like him. Especially the women.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a laugh.

“I’m sure I won’t run into him.” I take one last swallow of wine and decide to call it a night while I can still walk down the block to the house I share with my roommate, Hannah.

I hope I can walk that far.

“Well, if you do run into him, maybe you can have a nice weekend affair with him,” Jill says nonchalantly.

“Right, ’cause I just have weekend affairs on a regular basis.” I roll my eyes and then giggle at the ludicrous thought.

“If you can’t bang the billionaire, bang a hot ski instructor,” Lo says.

“I’m not banging anyone!”

“Why not?” Jenna asks. “You’re hot. You should bang someone.”

Dear God, the girls are all drunk.

“Maybe you’ll find a hot ski instructor to bang in Aspen,” I say to Jenna who cracks a wide, drunk smile and raises her glass.

“From your lips to God’s ears, my friend.”



This is a mistake.

The road up Whitetail Mountain is well paved and sanded, but still treacherous. It’s narrow, and the switchbacks are tight, making me nervous with the fresh snow and cold weather.

I should have taken the commuter bus that runs up and down the mountain during ski season.

I pass Jenna’s B&B, The Hideout, grinning as I think of my pretty friend. I’m so proud of her for making a success of her business. I honk and wave, just in case she can see me, then turn around one more switchback and climb another quarter of a mile before driving into a quaint, beautiful snow village. Ski lifts climb up to the summit of the mountain, forging a path in the evergreens, moving slowly with people sitting in the seats, their skis dangling from their feet.

A condo complex sits on the left, the balconies full of bicycles and hanging plants that died months ago.

Up ahead is a wide parking lot before a grand, beautiful, rustic lodge. The Snow Ghost Lodge, to be exact. It sits right at the base of the ski lifts, convenient for those who want to step outside, fasten their skis, and set off for a day in the powder.

People of all shapes, sizes, and ages are milling about, in ski pants and coats, hats, and gloves, carrying skis on their shoulders. Kids throw snowballs at each other and their parents yell at them to keep it to the hill.

It’s absolutely stunning.

The tall evergreen trees are covered in white powder, and I’m reminded how blessed I am to live in such an amazing place.

So far away from the desert of Arizona.

I park in the valet area of the lodge and climb out of my SUV just as a parking attendant comes to help me with my bags.

I slam my door shut and move to walk away, but am pulled up short.

I’ve slammed my coat in the door.

I sigh and close my eyes, then tilt my head back and look up at the sky.

“Really? Already? You couldn’t wait until I’ve at least put skis on my feet?”

I open the door and rescue my coat, then turn to find the valet and several others watching me curiously.

Great.

I simply smile and nod and take my bag from the young valet, tip him, and walk into the beautiful lodge.

Immediately to my left is a large river-rock fireplace, complete with a roaring fire. There are clusters of soft couches and chairs arranged to sit in and warm up, or just wait for your loved ones to ski while you read a book and sip a hot toddy.

I think I’ll need a few of those hot toddies.

I approach the desk and am greeted by a smiling, gray-haired woman.

“Hello, I’m Grace Douglas. I have a reservation for this evening.”

“Welcome to the Snow Ghost Lodge. Where are you visiting from?” She slides a paper across the desk for me to fill out as she checks me in.

“Cunningham Falls,” I reply with a grin. “I’m just up for some ski lessons.”

“Oh, great! I’m Jeanette. Feel free to call down for anything you might need.” She consults her computer and makes me a key for my room. “Looks like your first lesson is in about thirty minutes. That should give you time to settle in. We have cookies and warm cider over there.” She gestures to her left, opposite of the monster fireplace. “Take a look around. Your instructor will have all the equipment you need.”