One Golden Ring (Angel Mountain Christmas #2)

Chapter 1

DARCY

Ireally, really wish I hadn’t eaten so much gingerbread.

This is a very out-of-character thought for me, but here I am, stomach threatening a full-scale revolt as we whip around the winding Angel Mountain roads like my boss thinks this rented SUV has wings and could just fly off the edge and sail right over the snowy trees instead of skidding us into an icy grave.

But it’s not my fault I’m feeling this way.

When we arrived at the little village at the bottom of the mountain we took a quick break to fill up the gas tank and the sweet little old lady at the register of the service station was selling homemade gingerbread and boxes of candy canes.

What was I supposed to do, not buy some?

Mr. Lockwood probably would have rolled his eyes if he’d seen me, but he was in his own world. I’ve always had an undeniable sweet tooth, and I think I’m allowed one bad habit since basically all I do these days is work.

I’m pretty sure all Derek Lockwood does for fun is work out. And as far as I can tell he lives on protein shakes and whatever he has to eat for the sake of appearances during his working lunches.

I know that I’m going to be spending the next few days here with him while he checks on his ailing grandfather, so I’ll be glad to have some nice treats tucked away. I just wish I hadn’t scarfed down one of the enormous, still-warm cookies before we headed out.

Don’t you dare get sick in this car, Darcy Keller. Focus on your boss. That’s your job.

Easier said than done. From the moment we left the office I was completely lost in my phone trying to reschedule all his meetings and other obligations for this weekend. But then my cell service went out as soon as we started climbing the mountain, so I’ve got nothing to distract me from the drive.

It feels like I went from the corner office of a skyscraper into the middle of an icy mountain in a heartbeat.

I honestly can’t believe I’m here at all.

Mr. Lockwood has always been a private person. I’ve been working for him full-time at Hearts & Circles Interactive for three years and I still don’t know much about his private life.

The only family member of Mr. Lockwood’s that I’ve ever met is his thirteen-year-old daughter, Judi-Bloom. I didn’t know his grandfather had fallen ill, because I didn’t even know he had a grandfather until a few days ago.

I was a little surprised when he told me to shuffle his whole calendar on a moment’s notice so that he could make this visit, but I was completely caught off guard when he insisted I come along.

I glance over at him and my stomach flip-flops again, but for all the wrong reasons.

Derek Lockwood always wears a bespoke suit and a silk tie, but right now his jacket is thrown across the back seat and he’s got his white button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing tan forearms rippling with muscles that I’m definitely not noticing.

His jaw is tight, but I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t like driving on these icy roads, or if it’s because this rented vehicle won’t fly as fast as his Lamborghini back in the city.

The man does everything with an intensity I would probably find exhausting if I weren’t so horribly, helplessly attracted to him.

Don’t think about that, I remind myself for about the millionth time in three years.

Instead, I cling to the seat and pray for safe passage and a steel stomach.

It’s going to be okay. This is not how my story ends. I haven’t even paid off my student loans.

After a few minutes, the curves ease a bit and I take a deep breath and let myself look around.

The little village at the bottom of the mountain was the most charming thing I’ve ever seen, with cute little shops hung with icicle lights and decked out in holly and evergreen wreaths like something you’d see on a Christmas card.

But up here, as the night moves in, it just feels… wild. More like the mountains I remember from my days in the Wilderness Girls.

Except with a lot more snow.

I wasn’t expecting that. When I researched this place online, I read that last year they didn’t get a bit of snow until it was almost Christmas Day.

Obviously this year has been a little different.

But the snow is beautiful and we’ll be staying in a pretty mountain chalet overlooking the woods—I think.

For some reason, Mr. Lockwood booked the stay himself, even though I normally arrange his work schedule, travel arrangements, and even his limited personal obligations.

But I searched the area on the short-term rental sites before we came, and the only thing I could find was a bunch of super fancy chalets on the mountain above an old-fashioned lodge.

And he’s definitely not an old-fashioned lodge kind of guy.

In any case, it will be nice to get a little break from the office and maybe even get a few minutes to curl up with a book and some hot cocoa.

Just as I start to relax my white-knuckled grip on my seat, something flashes across the road in front of us.

My brain has just enough time to register it as a rabbit as something else darts after it. Mr. Lockwood slams on the brakes and barely avoids hitting the most beautiful red fox I’ve ever seen.

It’s a great display of reflexes, but the sudden slowdown makes the car fishtail and suddenly we’re spinning out, closer and closer to the edge of the mountain.

The whole world slips into slow motion and I’m too scared to even scream. My hand automatically reaches for the most stable thing in this flyaway universe, and finds my boss’s tree trunk of a thigh.

My whole life would probably be flashing in front of my eyes if I’d ever really had one. Instead I think of my sister and the twins and my heart aches. I’m going to die without seeing Johnny and George grow up.

Mr. Lockwood moves with the confidence of someone out for a scenic drive instead of careening to their doom and cuts the wheel into the turn. A moment later, the tires catch a little friction and we come to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling inside me as he turns to fix me in his dark gaze. There is concern in his expression and a flicker of something else too…

My heart feels like it just hit the first drop of a roller-coaster without the rest of me, and for a moment I can’t even process what he’s saying.

Then the world comes slamming back in all at once and I realize I’m just staring up at him, my hand still clenched around his thigh.

“I’m fine,” I squeak, pulling back my hand like I was touching a hot stove.

“Good,” he says, scowling and turning back to the road as he pulls us back out into our proper lane to continue the twisting journey up the mountain.

I can’t think of anything to say, so just sit beside him, heart pounding, trying not to think about anything that just happened.

We’ll be at the chalet soon, I tell myself. I’ll probably have a suite on the other side of the house from his and I can just hide out and catch my breath for a minute.

We spend the next few minutes in silence as the sky goes from washed-out denim to a deeper navy blue.

“I apologize that we’ll be roughing it,” he says at last. “As you know, this was last minute.”

I sure do.

But there’s no need for him to apologize.

Only Derek Lockwood could possibly think of a massive chalet with a breathtaking mountain view as roughing it.

But I guess I should know better since I’ve booked his travel all over the world.

The man doesn’t mind nice things. It might not be up to his standards, but I’m pretty sure this place will be nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed in.

When I took my initial interview I was a little worried that working for a video game developer would mean wild parties and a little too much informality at the office.

But I had it all wrong—at least when it comes to Derek Lockwood. He runs Hearts & Circles Interactive like it’s a finance company or something—regular hours, pristine offices, and I’ve never seen him out of a suit.

I’m doing my best not to think about him out of a suit as he pulls off the main road onto a smaller one that I know from the online map. It’s the path that leads up past that lodge and onto a mountainside set with those big gorgeous chalets.

But before we even get as far as the lodge he’s pulling off the road into the snowy woods and down a narrow driveway that looks like it’s been freshly shoveled.

The driveway ends at a tiny log cabin tucked between the trees that’s definitely not one of the chalets I saw online.

This is why he said we’d be roughing it.

It might not be very big, but the place is still completely charming with weathered logs and pretty pale blue shutters.

There’s even a little brick chimney. And though the place is dark now, I can picture the windows glowing in welcome and a ribbon of smoke curling out of the chimney, like a cabin in a fairytale.

At work, when I close my eyes on a stressful day and go to my happy place, it looks a whole lot like this.

“Here we are,” Mr. Lockwood says, his voice a little rough. “Let’s get unpacked.”

I wonder if maybe that close call up on the road actually shook him a little, even though he stayed so outwardly cool. But he’s out of the SUV and carrying all our bags up the front steps of the little cabin before I have a chance to think much about it.

That’s Derek Lockwood all over—always on to the next thing.

I scramble out after him, breath pluming in the frigid air, wishing I were wearing more sensible shoes. The driveway is just snow-encrusted gravel, not the best match for my heels.

Mr. Lockwood reaches for the front door just as I get to the steps of the little porch, and to my amazement he twists the knob and it swings open.

That door wasn’t even locked.

I guess we really are more or less out in the middle of nowhere. It’s been so long since I spent any time in a home without a safety chain and at least one deadbolt that I forgot places like this still existed.

It’s definitely not full of bank robbers and wild animals, I reassure myself as I trot up the porch steps to join him in our not-chalet.

So our little weekend getaway has thrown me one curveball. That’s fine. I’m sure the rest of our stay will be smooth sailing. And I’m sure that sharing such a small space with the boss I’ve been crushing on for years won’t be weird at all.