Mountains and Mistletoe: A Christmas Romance Novel Read online

  M.K. Dymock

  Mountains and Mistletoe

  A Christmas Romance Novel

  First published by Elite Edition 2021

  Copyright © 2021 by M.K. Dymock

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  M.K. Dymock asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  M.K. Dymock has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  Cover image © 2021 Creative Travel Projects at Shutterstock.com and anatoliy_gleb at Shutterstock.com

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  To all my ski buddies for the bumps, jumps, and trees!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by M.K. Dymock

  Chapter 1

  Nia Pearson stared at the gaggle of four-year-olds all staring back at her—or at least pointing their ski goggles in her general direction.

  In their defense, she was supposed to be their ski instructor, and they were standing next to skis they had no clue how to put on. In her defense, she hadn’t taught anyone under fourteen and lower than an advanced skier in a few years and couldn’t quite recall what to do next.

  The middle kid burst into tears at his teacher’s seeming indifference. “I want my mommy.”

  The other two, who had been smiling only seconds earlier, followed suit with their own sobs. All three kids sank into the snow, desperately trying to kick off their hard plastic boots. Fortunately for Nia, they were strapped on too tightly to be pried off that easily.

  She whipped her head around in a panic for someone, anyone who could bring back the smiles. Several guests walked by on their way to the nearby chairlift or inside to the old stone lodge for hot coffee. Most offered her a sympathetic glance, clearly grateful that this was someone else’s job. A few gave off annoyed looks that their peaceful morning was being interrupted by such clear incompetence.

  Nia sank to her knees in desperation, pulling her goggles back onto her head. “Hey, hey, there.” What were their names again? “Do you want to learn to ski? It’s way fun.”

  Two kept crying, but one stopped only to turn a Medusa stare on her. “Where’s my mom?”

  Nia had once stood at the top of a double-black mogul run with a brace holding her knee together and a fool’s chance to get back on the national ski team. She was more freaked out at this moment than she had been in that. Considering how bad that day had gone, she didn’t have any hope today. “Look, I’ve got candy. Do you want candy?”

  Medusa didn’t blink, but she didn’t start crying again.

  Nia unzipped her pockets desperate to find some candy. Then she unzipped another and another. Where was it? Shoot. She’d never transferred the Smarties from her backpack to her uniform.

  As if from heaven, a woman sank into the snow beside her. “What sad faces,” said the woman, also wearing a blue uniform. “I’ve got some Frozen stickers here for the bravest of kids.” The kids didn’t let up, but the woman turned to Nia. “I’ve got another class for you.”

  “Thank goodness,” Nia muttered. The woman cast her a bit of a look, and Nia forced on a smile, trying to remember if she’d met this person before. While she’d grown up skiing at Sunset Ridge and had even spent a few winters here as an instructor’s assistant, it was her first day teaching after years of being gone. “Where should I go?” Nia asked, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible.

  “I’ll take you there as soon as their new instructor comes out. I’m Brenda; I work the schedule.” She stood up. “Oh, here he comes.”

  Nia stood up as well, eager to get to a class that at least knew how to put on their skis. She turned and stopped right in her tracks, staring up into the deep, dark eyes of the kids’ new instructor. If someone asked her later what surprised her the most about the giant of a man, she wouldn’t have been able to say with any certainty.

  For one, he was Black, and she was used to being the only Black instructor at any given resort—even the ones with five hundred instructors. For another, and far more unsettling, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever met. He had a square jaw with just the right amount of scruff and broad shoulders that filled out his uniform in a way no other instructor had done before. That she was sure of. He had at least a foot on her small frame.

  A little thrill coursed through her as she considered that maybe this winter wouldn’t be quite the boring one she’d anticipated.

  But at that moment, sadly, the only thing she could think to do was hold out a mitten-encased hand and offer a shake. He looked down at her and ignored it, turning instead to the still upset kids. “What’ve we got here?” he said in a rather kind voice that did not match his burly size. “It can’t be all that bad.”

  With her hand still hanging out like she was a moron, she had no idea how he was going to succeed where she’d failed. But with no desire to have the supervisor rethink the assignment, she turned to Brenda. “Where do you want me to go?”

  “I’ll take you.”

  They put on their skis and, after standing in the short line with very few other guests, loaded onto a chairlift. There were still three weeks before Christmas, and only a few runs were opened until the real snow would arrive.

  Brenda pulled down the bar across them. “Nia, you’ve got quite the experience. Sorry, you didn’t make it to the Olympics, but you’ve been teaching now for, what, six years?”

  “Seven,” she muttered. Teaching had come after that failed trial run after trying to come back from a career-ending injury. Her busted knee and back meant she couldn’t stay pro, so she’d figured
out how to get paid on skis another way.

  “And at some of the country’s biggest resorts,” Brenda continued. “I hope you won’t find it too boring here. We’re a tenth of the size, and our guests are more local families and less wealthy tourists.”

  You got that right, Nia almost said. “I understand.” She’d once had a family fly her in their private plane from Colorado to Utah to try out some new resorts without having the hassle of hiring a local instructor for their kids. Their weekend tip to her had been in four figures. “I’m originally from Harvest Ranch, and I needed to be close to family this season.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I heard about your mother.”

  Nia didn’t want to talk about her mother and the diagnosis that had shaken her family to their core. After all, Evelyn Pearson was their foundation—or what was left of it after her father died several years ago. “She’ll be fine,” Nia said with a certainty she didn’t feel and a desperate need to change the subject. Skiing was her one and only escape. “Tell me about the resort; it’s changed a lot since I was here last.”

  Brenda sighed. “We’re on our third owner in five years. Change is about the only thing that stays the same around here.”

  “Who bought it this time? One of the big conglomerates?” Sunset Ridge had been the resort that had built her as a child, and it was disheartening to see it passed around like cheap wine. Pushing that thought down, she focused on what she really wanted to know, and that was all about her very handsome replacement down the mountain. A man that good-looking who could ski would be worth knowing. She did have a policy about not dating a guy more than three times—that’s when they turned clingy—but he could be worth a winter’s flirtation.

  “Some corporation bought it. You know how it is these days—no more family-run resorts.”

  Nia turned back and glanced down the gentle slope, her skis dangling in the air. “Do you think my kids will be okay with their new instructor? Is he a good teacher?” Maybe expressing concern about the kids would get Brenda talking about the man.

  “He’s new to the resort as well, but he volunteered to take the class.”

  “Really,” she sputtered. “Most men hate taking on the little ones. Where was he before?”

  Brenda shook her helmeted head. “I’m not sure. He’s a bit of a mystery.”

  The chair came to the end and they both stood at the small ramp, pushing off into the snow. Standing at the top were four women—all over the age of sixty, at least. Nia glanced around, expecting to see a hard-charging class ready to rip out.

  “Nia.” Brenda gestured with her pole to the women wobbling on their skis. “Meet the Silver Sisters, your class for today.”

  Nia buried her face in her gaiter to conceal her expression. This winter could not get over fast enough. Then she remembered the quite good-looking instructor at the base of the mountain and decided right then and there he would be a good way to pass the time.

  Chapter 2

  Darius Atwater stared at the sad-eyed children awaiting rescue from the terrifying situation their parents had casually dropped them in. He remembered how absolutely petrified he’d been his first day on the snow—and he’d been thirteen. He tried to smile—nothing. He tried a boisterous hello—still nothing. “Who wants to learn to ski?”

  Their tears answered with a strong, not us. His first day was not going well.

  Then he remembered his favorite part of lessons at first—playing in the snow. Without making eye contact—ignoring them seemed the safest option—he knelt down and pushed the snow together, forming a ball. “The trick to building a snowman,” he said more to himself than to them, “is to make a small ball to start with.” He stood, but still hunched over, and rolled the ball along the ground back and forth in front of the kids. “Then make it bigger. But if it gets too big, I’ll need some help to keep it moving.”

  Darius glanced around at the mountain base. They had about fifty feet of flatness between the lodge and the hill. Once the chairlifts had started running, the area cleared out except for the few first-time classes.

  As if desperate for assistance, he sighed audibly. “I could really use some strong kids to help push.”

  The girl with the defiant stare climbed to her feet. The first boy stopped crying, and the second breathed between sobs but watched them.

  “I’m strong,” said the first boy—Kevin, if he remembered right.

  “Are you sure?” He offered a skeptical look. Darius knew enough about the male ego to know how to motivate.

  The boy charged right past him and pushed the ball—now about six inches around. Within five minutes, he had both boys happily pushing the ball around while the girl looked on. She wouldn’t be coerced, but she would join when she wanted to. He knew enough about girls not to pressure her.

  His divorce had done a good job teaching him that. The more he’d pushed to make the marriage work, the more his ex-wife had resisted until there was nothing left for him to try.

  The morning passed with some success—the kids were at least on skis and sliding down the mountain, even occasionally standing up. With his muscles burning from lifting the kids up and down, he trudged slowly through the snow to the small employee cafeteria.

  Inside, sat about five tables in front of a small window in the wall where plates were being pushed through from the kitchen. He walked up. “Hey, is this where we order?”

  An old, grizzled man who looked like he’d manned the kitchen on a submarine in WW2 stared him down. “It’s where you get your food.”

  With that tone, Darius almost expected him to spit as an exclamation point. “Where do I order?”

  “There is no ordering. You get a hamburger or you get a salad—that’s it.”

  “Not much to choose from.”

  The man folded his tattooed arms across his chest. “It used to be hamburger only, but the vegetarians pitched a fit.” His tone dared Darius to order a salad.

  Darius glanced past the man to see the cooked patties soaking in their own grease. “I’ll take a salad.”

  “Figures,” the cook muttered.

  With his salad, Darius considered his few options to sit and eat. Only a couple of people had come in from their morning lessons, and he took advantage of that to find a corner spot alone where he could eat in peace. His flight from Los Angeles had arrived mere hours before first chair, and he really needed sleep that couldn’t be had until much later.

  He swallowed some of the limp lettuce when the door swung open, ushering a flash of cold air. He didn’t bother to glance up until ski boots clomped their way over and a coat-clad figure sank into the chair across from him. He reluctantly lifted his head. Facing him was the most aggressively friendly smile he’d ever encountered. Much like a spotlight on a dark night, he wanted to put his hands to his eyes to shade them from the glare.

  Even her hair blinded him with hot pink strands woven through her many black braids. He recognized her immediately from the morning—she was the instructor who couldn’t handle three crying children. Doubtful she’d last long at this job.

  “Hi,” the beaming smile offered. “I’m Nia. Thanks so much for taking the kids this morning.”

  You mean thanks for doing your job for you. He managed to keep that to himself. “It’s our job,” he muttered, having left his good attitude with his luggage at the small room he would call home for the season.

  Her smile faltered slightly at the subtle dig. Darius turned back to his salad, hoping she’d get the hint. Maybe he could find a place to grab ten minutes of sleep before the afternoon lessons started.

  “Where you from, Darius?” she asked, not taking the hint and instead reading his name tag.

  “L.A.” Among other places.

  “Is this your first season working at a resort?”

  “Yes.” Maybe if he kept his answers short, she would leave him alone.

  “I’m on my eighth season, but not here, of course. The resorts I worked at were much larger. This will tak
e some getting used to.”

  Did he detect a hint of disdain? A rush of anger hit him. Who was she to look down on their small resort? “Do they not work with kids at the big resorts?” he retorted.

  She flinched at his now not-so-subtle dig. “It’s been a while.” She stood. “I’m going to get a hamburger.”

  He felt a small amount of guilt as she strode away, but he ignored that in favor of his injured pride. Maybe the resort wasn’t huge, but it had a lot of potential.

  Before he could scrape up the last lettuce leaf, another figure sat down in the seat vacated by Nia, but this one was far more welcome to him. “Tommy, what are you doing here? I thought you had today off,” Darius said.

  The man setting down a plate piled high with two hamburgers could’ve been on any ski magazine with his bleached-blond hair and confident gait. As college kids at this resort, more than one woman had stopped the men on the slopes for a picture with him.

  The two friends had met years ago as undergrads at Johns Hopkins a few hours up the road in Baltimore. Tommy had posted on a community board looking to carpool to the closest ski resort, which happened to be Sunset Ridge. Back then, Darius had been studying environmental engineering while Tommy was pre-med. Both men had since disappointed their respective families in different and now similar ways.

  “I’m off today but wanted to get some lunch,” Tommy said, grabbing the first hamburger.

  “I thought you weren’t allowed to eat in the employee lounge unless you were working.”

  He winked. “As long as I’m wearing a uniform, they won’t call me out.”

  “Shouldn’t the manager be setting a good example?”

  Tommy laughed. “It’s okay; I know a guy.” He winked.

  “Yeah, keep that on the down-low,” he muttered.

  “Relax, Darius.” He jammed a bunch of fries on his hamburger. “The world is yours. All you have to do is enjoy it.”

  Nia walked past, carrying her own plate, with a quick glance at Darius that he very much did not return.

  Tommy watched the interaction with a sly smile. “Yes, I would say the world is very much yours. Who is she?”