Chapter Two
COLE
So he wasn’t seeing things. There really was a snow-covered, pink-haired angel standing on his porch.
But who was she, and why was she here? Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her jacket nowhere near warm enough for a mountain winter, and she was wearing sneakers of all things.
No gloves, either. Must be a city girl who somehow scored a ticket to the charity gala.
He cleared his throat. “Well, what do we have here? I wasn’t expecting company.
” He gave her a warm smile, and she lowered her hand, her expression shifting into one that made it clear his happiness wasn’t welcome.
He had seen that look more times than he could count, but he wasn’t about to change who he was. Truth be told, he didn’t want to.
“Where’d you come from?” He drew his eyebrows down, following her finger to the cabin and then back to her face, wondering what she was pointing at.
She shook her head before speaking. “I mean the lock. It’s stuck.” Understanding dawned, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He had been trying to get that lock replaced for years, but with so few people renting the cabin furthest from the lodge, it had never been fixed.
“Oh, that. Sorry. There’s a trick to the old thing.
How about I come show you? Why don’t you come inside and get warm while I grab my coat?
” He motioned toward the cabin as he searched for it.
It wasn’t hanging where it normally was.
“Where in the world did I put that dang thing?” he muttered, snapping his fingers as he remembered.
Earlier, he’d needed more wood for the fire and had done some chopping, so his coat had ended up in the kitchen, by the back door.
He wandered to the kitchen and pulled it on before heading back toward the living room, noticing that the front of the fireplace, where he had invited her to go, still stood empty.
He had invited her in, hadn’t he? He moved toward the door, and there she stood, just like before—only the scowl from earlier was even worse, if such a thing were possible.
“Didn’t you want to warm yourself by the fire? It’s pretty cold out here, and that thin jacket doesn’t look like it’s doing much.”
She looked down at her coat and back up at him, drawing her shoulders back.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk to strangers?
Let alone enter one’s home? And not just a stranger, but a man—a very strong-looking man?
Do you think I’m stupid or something?” Her hands rested on her hips now, and he tried not to smile as she continued to scold him.
“Well… didn’t she? And also, didn’t she teach you not to stare? It’s rude to stare.”
He cleared his throat and tamped down his smile, putting on a more serious look to appease her. “Why, yes. Yes, she did. But she also taught me to be chivalrous to damsels in distress. And you”—he motioned toward her with his hand—“are said damsel. Are you not?”
She grumbled to herself and folded her arms over her chest, her feet shuffling in the snow that had gathered on his porch. “I’m not a damsel.”
“Well, are you not distressed?” He bit his cheeks to keep from smiling, her irritation at her situation evident in her movements.
“As far as being distressed goes, I could have easily broken the window to gain access, but having a chilly draft blowing through the cabin until it can be fixed seemed unnecessary.” Her eyes glanced at the fire blazing through the open door, and she let out a puff of air that sent a cloud of vapor in front of her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to warm yourself by the fire for a few minutes? I have some hot chocolate that just came off the stove as well.” He motioned to the inside of his house, and her eyes followed the motion, softening for a moment—only to harden once again.
“Let me think about that for a second… uh… no. You’re like that stinking witch in Hansel and Gretel, trying to lure me into your cabin so you can shove me into your stove and cook me.”
He let out a loud laugh at her comparison of him to a witch, and her face told him he’d better stop, or she might just come back in the middle of the night and murder him in his sleep by shoving him in his oven.
He rubbed the smile from his face and closed his door before motioning with his hand toward her cabin. “After you… ma’am.”
Her face screwed up in disgust. “Eew. Please don’t. I am not a ma’am.”
“Well, I was going to call you damsel, but I figured that probably wasn’t the best nickname for you. So… what should I call you then?”
She rolled her eyes and turned around, leading the way to her cabin. “My name is Aspen.”
“Nice to meet you, Aspen,” he shouted over the wind that was beginning to pick up. Looks like they would be getting some good snow for tomorrow’s early-morning mountain tour he had scheduled.
“And should I just call you Kris Kringle then, or do you have a name?” Her words reached his ears, and he chuckled at the name.
“Nope. Not Kris, but I am truly honored to have given you the impression that I could be named after Santa Claus.” She didn’t respond, but he did see the small shake of her head as they continued on their way.
“So… are you going to tell me, or do I have to keep on guessing?” Her question made him smile to himself as he thought of a way to respond.
“Well, I don’t think you would believe me if I told you, considering you thought my name was Kris Kringle.” He couldn’t help but continue the game they had going. And if she was playing willingly, he would gladly continue.
They reached her cabin, and he followed her up the steps. She handed him the key with her bare hands, which felt like icicles, and blew out an exasperated breath.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of whether I believe you or not?” she responded, rolling her eyes again.
He shoved the key in the lock, pushed it up, then down, tilted it to the right, and finally twisted it, smiling as the door swung open.
“It’s Cole. Welcome home, Aspen.” He motioned her inside with his hand, and when she didn’t move, he took a closer look at the expression on her face.
“I know it’s cold. We’re in the snow. Like… duh? You’re really not going to tell me your name then? Well, fine. Whatever.” She moved over to her luggage, grabbed the handle of her bag, then picked up the snowboarding bag, slung it over her shoulder, and dragged it inside as she grumbled to herself.
Snowboarding bag? Wait… was this… The Aspen Sterling?
Professional snowboarder? Five-time X Games Women’s slopestyle champion?
Has been snowboarding since she was a child?
That Aspen Sterling? He had seen her documentary and had been following her for years.
How could he have been such an idiot not to recognize her?
Standing with his mouth hanging open in shock, he remembered himself and moved to help her with her bags, but it was too late.
They were already inside, along with an exasperated-looking woman.
He must look like a complete jerk. He had been so caught up in realizing who she was that it had only just registered that she hadn’t heard him right.
She moved to shut the door, but he stuck his foot in the crack, not letting it close.
“Oh great. Now you’re going to murder me? My dad will find you, you know.” She huffed through the crack.
That’s right. Brett “The Bear” Sterling was her father, and he was not someone he wanted to trifle with.
“No. Sorry. No.” He removed his foot, and she swung the door back open, only to reveal a knife unsheathed in her hand.
“Oh shoot. No. That’s not what this is.” He held his hands in front of him as he backed away from the porch, startled that the petite woman was now sporting a switchblade.
“Then what is it?” She held the knife in front of her as if she knew what she was doing and took another step toward him.
“I was just trying to tell you my name. I said it’s Cole. Not ‘it’s cold.’ My name is Cole. Now will you put that thing away?”
Her eyes focused on him once more, as though debating whether or not to fillet him like a fish, and he watched as she did some fancy flipping trick before sheathing it at her waist.
“Nice to meet you, Cole. Now, would you mind showing me that little trick of yours? I don’t want to have to call ‘Old King Cole, that merry old soul’ over here every time I need to open my door. That’s not really your name, is it?”
He approached the door with caution and removed the key, showing her how to unlock it a few times before having her try it herself.
“There. Looks like you’ve got it. No need for Old King Cole to rescue you any further.” He cringed at his joke and shook his head. “Sorry. That was terrible.”
“Yeah, that was awful.” The side of her face lifted into a smirk—the first one he had seen—as she shook her head at him.
“Well, if your name really is Cole, then this is where I say goodnight, Cole. Thanks for the help.” She shut the door, and it was all Cole could do to stop himself from slapping his forehead.
Aspen Sterling was his neighbor for the next week, and he had just made a complete idiot of himself.
It wasn’t as though he had a crush on her over the years or anything, but he was a huge fan.
He knew she would be in attendance at the Mynt to make a difference Charity event, but Mr. Mynt hadn’t told him she was the one renting the cabin next door.
Had he known, he would have made sure the fireplace was lit for her arrival.
He turned and made his way through the thicket of trees that stood between the two quaint cabins, thinking about her freezing cold hands.
Cole should have offered to light the fire in her fireplace.
These cabins were old, with no heating or cooling, only a small fireplace to keep the occupants warm.
He contemplated turning back to see if she needed help, but Aspen struck him as a woman who knew how to handle things; her skills with the knife were proof of that.
When he reached his cabin, he turned back and smiled as he saw puffs of smoke rising from her chimney. One thing was for sure. This week was going to be interesting with Aspen Sterling as a neighbor.