3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Rachel
I t was a good thing Juniper only showed me around the main building because once I’d returned to my room it started snowing. As the thick white flakes fell and coated the ground, some of them pressed against the window. I moved a chair in the den so I could curl up with a hot cup of tea and watch, enjoying the feeling of the steam rising on my face and the mug warming my hands.
It also gave me a moment to think about Juniper. I tried to not think about him and his heavy-lidded gaze, which actually proved rather difficult thanks to his beautiful, long face, perfectly framed by wisps of dark, shoulder-length hair and just the right amount of stubble to look rugged while still seeming put together.
His piss-poor attitude was the last thing I needed after the rough flight here, which I was still trying to brush off with minimal success. Between the flight and my skin adjusting to minimal humidity, my skin was so dry my cuticles cracked, and I could see the lines on my nails, even after moisturizing. Not to mention the can of soda the flight attendant handed me was half-frozen solid—a horrible predicament when stuck in a pressurized cabin 30,000 feet in the air. The soda had erupted like a poorly made (or well made, depending on perspective) science fair project before the tab was even fully open, which caused the fizz to spill on my lap and the carpet beneath my feet. My bag, which now sat empty in the den’s corner, still had a damp spot on it.
At least the gorgeous view outside made up for it. Western Colorado was about as different from Florida as I could get, swapping flat beaches and palm trees for mountainous, snowy landscapes and tall pines that stood firm in their roots. I’d barely sweated since I came here, a welcome reprieve from the never-ending summer. While I understood why people loved visiting Florida, I’d grown tired of the heat and in desperate need of a change of scenery. The snow captivated me; the closest we got to this in Florida was a hailstorm during hurricane season, so it was easy for me to get lost in a trance as if nature itself was hypnotizing me. The holiday songs I’d heard one too many times over department store stereos weren’t lying: there was a magic in the air, a still calm in the way the flakes fell and sparkled if the sun hit them right.
Not reaching for my phone every second to check the company socials was already proving to be invaluable to my mental health. Whenever I’d lament in the past about the strain my job had on me, the first piece of advice everyone always gave me was to take some time off. But I’d tried that. Using my PTO didn’t stop my managers from blowing up my phone. Not even Shabbat stopped them from trying. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of my milk tea as I remembered that wasn’t my problem anymore.
Juniper might have an abrasive personality, but at least I knew he wouldn’t try to stab my back with a smile on his face. Partially because I wasn’t sure he could even smile, but with people like him, at least there was no guessing if they actually meant what they said or wondering when the other shoe would drop.
It didn’t stop me from worrying all the same. Perhaps it was because I was so used to my old boss being a stuffy, unapproachable suit-and-tie, but I felt on edge around Juniper. Abba sent me an article he found on LinkedIn about how some people exhibit symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder after a job which prompted me to order some ashwagandha gummy vitamins online. I figured they couldn’t hurt.
Even though the suite wasn’t that large, I still felt lost as I got up to wander about. The front door opened to the living room space which was more like a large den with a couch, coffee table, and television set on a stand. Taking a left brought me to the kitchen and dining room as well as a patio that overlooked the grounds behind me. The patio stretched out to the right side of the suite where my bedroom was. I sat on the patio for a while, enjoying the feel of the snow and cold on my face despite my dry hands, but quickly realized how much of a baby I was with the cold. While the bite in the air felt refreshing on my face, I also desperately needed more layers.
I’d adapt eventually. The way I saw it, I’d have to.
As I stepped inside, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I checked my smart watch before grabbing it and saw Michaela texted in the group chat we had with Ariana, who’d replied before I could even read Michaela’s message on my watch. Whatever these two were up to, it couldn’t be good, so I took my phone from my pocket.
[Michaela: Saw this recommended on Kindle Unlimited. Figured it could help you prepare for your new life!]
She’d sent a link to some hockey erotica series. When I was a freshman and new to the sorority, Michaela took me under her sophomore wing and we bonded over cringey romance novels. That bonding eventually led to her becoming my Big Sister. The cover of this one featured a shirtless buff man, likely a stock image, with a powerful font that just barely covered his nipples and a hockey stick draped over his shoulders.
Ariana: I know what I’m reading next!
Michaela: I figured with Rachel’s new boss being some hot athlete, it would only be appropriate for us to add to our Tbrs.
Ariana: Dying for Rachel to reply. Is he hot?
For the record, Juniper is an ex-snowboarder, not a hockey player. Not sure how a hockey romance will help me train for my new job, but I’ll let you know if it helps me get my rocks off anyway.
Ariana: You didn’t answer the question, though!
I sighed.
There is not a man on this earth who could hold a candle to Juniper Hart. He’s not exactly warm and fuzzy, but his dog is, so I guess that makes up for it.
Michaela: HE HAS A DOG?!?!
Ariana replied with a GIF of Iron Man standing in front of an explosion with one word overlaid: “ovaries.”
Sasquatch is his service dog. Brown Newfoundland
Michaela: SASQUATCH!!!
Another GIF from Ariana: this time, one of Taylor Swift saying, “I died dead.”
Ariana: I downloaded that hockey erotica. It’s only like 70 pages. Highlights to come. Dramatic reading, perhaps?
Michaela: I dare you lmao
Unable to fight my smile, I replied with the prayer hands emoji while I waited for the inevitable voice memo from Ariana to come through. Once it did, I hit play, and through laughter, Ariana recounted a scene where the hockey player uses the stick instead of a sex toy.
Michaela: Hope you’re taking notes, Rach! Just replace hockey stick with snowboard and you’re good.
I don’t even want to imagine how that is anatomically possible. Also, he’s my boss.
Michaela: Bold of you to assume that’s ever stopped anybody.
Michaela was right, but I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction. Juniper was gorgeous. That much was obvious to anybody with at least one partially functioning eyeball. But I was a professional through and through, and just because I was here on a mission to cure my burnout did not mean I could throw all my inhibitions to the wind.
When I woke the next morning, ready for the grand tour with Juniper, a sparkling blanket of white from yesterday’s snow coated the ground. Even the air smelled crisp and sharp, a scent many candles tried to recreate—and now, I knew they had failed. Nothing beat the real deal.
Unable to help myself, I took some photos of the private cabins with my phone. The log cabins were the most expensive rooms to rent, dwarfing the standard suites with their two floors, private patios equipped with their own hot tubs, and both indoor and outdoor showers. The patios all overlooked a lake which shone with a thin layer of frost and ice on top of the water.
Juniper rose a brow as I snapped away. His facial expressions communicated more than his words ever did, and today’s screamed he was already over today and ready to go back to bed. “What’s got you all excited?”
“Did you know I’ve never seen snow before? Well, last night was technically my first time, but my point still stands. This is beautiful!”
“Wait. For real?”
“Yes, for real!”
Unsure if he meant his sharp tone, I shrugged and let it go. If I wanted to avoid getting too stressed, I needed to pick my battles carefully. “So,” I said, drawing out the vowel and hoping to break the awkward silence, “do you have any cold weather tips for me?”
His brows furrowed; I didn’t realize they could go any lower than where they already sat on his face. “Cold weather tips?”
“Don’t seem so surprised. Born and raised Florida girl over here. Most, if not all, of my vacations involved visiting places during the summer, too.”
“What’s the coldest you’re used to?”
“One time, it got as low as thirty degrees.”
Juniper huffed; I could see his breath in front of him. “Put a negative in front of that.”
My heart sank into my stomach. “Wait. It gets negative thirty here?”
“Not frequently. But expect some negative temps once we get into late November, early December. Did you not Google that before you moved here?”
“Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath as I fidgeted with the emerald ring on my right pinky I’d inherited from my grandmother. I thought I’d been quiet enough to go unheard, but Juniper laughed.
Oh no. He laughed . It was rich like velvet, a sound as beautiful as he was. Maybe he was such a standoffish jerk because God said, “You know what? Someone this unattainably attractive and athletically inclined and talented is too perfect. If I don’t make him kind of a dick, it’ll be unfair.”
It was the only logical explanation.
“Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.” If Juniper said anything else, my head was too lost in the clouds, envisioning what other flaws he might have or if he really was crafted perfectly, except for his attitude.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. Speak freely, otherwise, I’ll lose my mind. I’m bad at formality these days, if you didn’t already guess.”
“Noted. I hope you do the same for me. Speak freely, that is.”
“Careful what you wish for. I’m notorious for being blunt.”
I took a moment to think about what he said, understanding it could be a double-edged sword. “My last boss would butter me up only to shoot me down. A lot of people in the South do that, actually. They act all nice to your face, but when push comes to shove, you don’t know where you stand. So, if you’re telling me you value speaking freely and forgoing formality, then I’m all aboard.”
I surprised myself with my vulnerability.
Juniper’s raised brows suggested it threw him off guard too, but he simply nodded, and said, “Understood. Glad we’re on the same page then.”
We rounded a corner. In the near distance was the lodge, standing tall and proud on the mountain. Our feet crunched beneath the thin layer of snow as we made our way to a smaller building with a sign reading THE ELK’S HEAD with a giant pair of antlers.
“Alright, my first cold weather tip for you?” Juniper pulled open the door and held it for me, letting me enter the building first. “Invest in some nice parkas and downs. As tempting as it may be to want to look cute, prioritize warmth. Don’t cheap out, either.”
“Do you have any favorites?”
“Mine were all sponsorships, but they’re good brands. We can end the tour with a closet raid.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
As the door swung closed behind us, I took in the restaurant’s view. While the stone fireplace in the front and the log tables all held a rustic-meets-elegant charm, my attention was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back wall. They overlooked the mountains in the distance and the rolling hills on which the resort sat. The sun streamed in, making both the snow and the restaurant seem to glow.
“Come on,” Juniper said with a nod.
I followed him past the metal swinging doors that brought us to the kitchen, all silver tables and hot ovens. When I caught a whiff of freshly baked bread, I couldn’t help but smile. The man responsible for the bread was around the corner, his white uniform hiding some of the flour that coated his abdomen.
“Edgar, this is Rachel, my new hire. Rachel, this is the restaurant manager, Edgar.”
I stuck my hand out, my smile only growing. “Nice to meet you!”
Edgar shook my hand. He had sandy hair cut short, and he clipped back his bangs with bobby pins. The few lines on his pale face revealed his age. “You too. Juniper tells me you’re from Florida?”
“Orlando, yeah.”
He whistled, long and low. “You’re in for a surprise this winter.”
“That’s what I was telling her,” Juniper piped in.
“Well,” Edgar said, “you need anything, Rachel, come on back this way. We run The Elk’s Head separately from the rest of the lodge, so if Juniper gives you a hard time, let me know and I can whip him into shape for ya. Plus, my daughter Mia is around your age, so if you need to get away from us stupid boys, she comes and helps Monday through Thursday.”
Juniper rolled his eyes. I couldn’t help but giggle. “Thanks. I’d love to meet her, so I’m sure I’ll be taking you up on that.”
“Great! And hey, good for you for moving out here to help this sad sack out. I imagine this took you out of your comfort zone.”
Juniper scoffed and crossed his arms. “I am not a sad sack.”
“Oh, please.” Edgar turned back to me. “Want some breakfast? I can get something started for you two before we open. On the house.”
“I’d hate to impose.”
“French toast pancakes,” Juniper said. The words sounded strange coming from his mouth with his flat tone. He looked at me in his peripheral, and said, “They’re to die for.”
“You didn’t strike me as the type to have a sweet tooth.”
“Not particularly. I mean, I like sweets as much as the next person. But trust me on this. Edgar’ll knock your socks off.”
We made our way to a table by the windows. The natural light made Juniper’s eyes pop and look an even lighter shade of blue than before. His pale, ivory skin looked dazzling against the backdrop of snow as if he was made for the winter. We sat in silence, save for Sasquatch panting lightly beneath the table.
Juniper was right: the pancakes were capable of knocking socks off. Cinnamon and nutmeg gave the pancakes their brown speckles, and the whipped butter and maple syrup couldn’t have been fresher—both made from scratch if I had to guess. As we ate, I tried to focus on anything but the way some of the syrup stuck to Juniper’s bottom lip, which I realized had a natural pout to it. Before he could catch me staring, I lowered my gaze to my plate, but the syrup kept making me want to look back up.
“You look lost in thought.”
I took a quick sip of water as I gathered my thoughts. Clueing my own boss into the fact I was checking him out against my better judgment was not the right answer, so once I set the glass down, I said, “Just taking it all in.”
“You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll adjust sooner rather than later.”
From anyone else, it would have been a compliment. But Juniper sounded so blasé, I wasn’t sure if he meant for it to be backhanded or not.
“I’m sure I will too. I think I’m still getting used to the time zone change, that’s all. But I’m super excited to get into the nitty-gritty.” I hoped that would be enough to brush it off and change the subject, but it seemed Juniper had other ideas.
“Excited, huh?” He rose an eyebrow but didn’t bother to look up from his pancakes as he sliced into a corner with his fork and knife. “I know we talked about this on the phone, but I want to reiterate this is going to be a shit ton of work, and it could very well all be for nothing. So, don’t get too excited.”
“Of course, but I’m glad for the opportunity, regardless. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“Don’t thank me or anything just yet. Thank me if we don’t completely tank this place.”
At this rate, I wasn’t sure what to say; his negative energy was like an impenetrable fortress. With a forced smile, I said, “Well, we’ll see, I suppose.”
“Not for nothing, but you sounded so confident over the phone,” Juniper said. “What happened?”
It took everything in me not to balk at him. While I knew I agreed to speak freely, it still felt like a gut punch. I blinked back my initial shock to compose myself. “Forgive me for being nervous about starting a new job and moving more than halfway across the country.”
Because that was why I felt off. It had nothing to do with the way his tongue poked out to lick the syrup off the lips that spoke so harshly. There was a sick sort of irony to it, I was sure of it.
Juniper wiped his mouth with his napkin, pulling my attention away from where it never should have been in the first place. “Well, I’ll be sure to start you easy, then. Let you ease into the swing of things.”
“Thanks. But like I said, I’m sure I’ll get used to it quickly.”
There were a few things I wasn’t sure I’d get used to if I was being honest. Beyond the cold, it felt strange jumping from corporate politics to whatever this conversation was. But we’d finished our food, the perfect segue out of this disaster. Juniper seemed to sense it, too, because as we set our napkins down, he asked, “Ready to keep moving?”
“Sure.”
Instead of stopping in the lobby on the way back, Juniper continued down the long hallway. Sasquatch looked back at me as if to encourage me to follow along. If only the dog was my new boss. The thought of him wearing a little tie instead of a collar made me smile.
When we got to room 104, Juniper reached for his wallet and grabbed a key. His room looked more or less the same as mine, the suite style made it bearable to live in without feeling entirely like a hotel. To my surprise, there wasn’t any sign of his former life as a professional snowboarder.
“To be completely honest with you,” Juniper said as he tossed his wallet haphazardly on the coffee table, not even stopping to look at it as he continued toward the bedroom, “I have a few pieces I never wear anymore you can have.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. These closets only fit so much, you know? And besides, it’s not like they sponsor me anymore, so I’ve got no obligation to keep anything.”
There was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone for anything else. I wasn’t sure if I should ask him if he wanted to talk about it or if I should even let him know I’d done some reading after I first met him. Most of what I’d found online was tabloid bullshit, so I’d stuck to ESPN and the local news, but the picture was still clear. Juniper had been a way bigger deal than he’d led on, a bright flame in the snowboarding world once thought to be the next Shaun White or Terje H?konsen. But the accident and his radio silence snuffed his career out faster than a birthday candle, despite speculation of him potentially returning to the Olympics.
So, all I said was, “Well, if it’s going to make its way to the donation bin anyway, I might as well.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Part of me wondered if he was glad to rid of them and the memories they held.
“Here, take these. They’re kind of boxy, so they should fit despite our different body types.” He grabbed a few jackets from his closet and shoved them at me. I tried to wrap my arms around them, but a few of them slipped beneath my grasp. Juniper didn’t even bother to look back as he thumbed through his racks, leaving me to scramble and pick them up alone.
It was hard to get a good read on Juniper. On one hand, he couldn’t bother to be nice. While I’d prefer honesty over having to dance around each other with words we didn’t mean, he also wasn’t putting in any effort to be kind or welcoming.
But on the other hand, here I was, juggling a bundle of snow coats and gloves. While he sounded like he didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t be standing here if that was the case.
“That should get you through the winter.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.”
Once I got back to my room, it took a few minutes to try them all on. Juniper had been right: thanks to the jackets’ shapes, they fit me well, and they were all still in great condition. I caught a faint whiff of pine and cinnamon on the jackets. As soon as I realized it was Juniper lingering on the clothes, I prayed I didn’t blush. Once I had hung everything up, I grabbed my laptop, and the business card LeAnn Weiss gave me the day before. Once I entered her email into the address field, I typed the message out and prayed for the best.
Subject: Upcoming ski lodge from Juniper Hart
Hello Ms. Weiss!
It was a pleasure meeting you yesterday. I want to apologize again for our rough start. I haven’t known Mr. Hart long, but he strikes me as the private type.
While we currently do not have any opening news or a tentative date (nor do we even have a name yet!), I’ll send any future updates your way as soon as we have them. Let me know if there are any other colleagues I should include in future communications.
Wishing you the best,
Rachel Friedman
Assistant Resort Manager
LeAnn’s reply came only a few minutes later.
Subject: Re: Upcoming ski lodge from Juniper Hart
Hello again, Rachel!
Thank you so much for keeping me in the loop. I’ve CC’d my executive producer who can help ensure we don’t miss any information in case you ever ping me while I’m on air.
Looking forward to some name updates!
Sincerely,
LeAnn Weiss
Reporter | Action 6 News
As I slumped back in my chair, I sighed in relief. At least that relationship hadn’t been completely wrecked. I wondered what other messes Juniper would leave in his wake and hoped they’d all be as easy to clean up—but with the cloud that hung over his head, I doubted they would be.