Maybe This Christmas. Sarah Morgan

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       CHAPTER FOURTEEN

       CHAPTER FIFTEEN

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

       CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

       CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

       CHAPTER NINETEEN

       Preview

       Endpage

Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      TYLER O’NEIL STOMPED the snow off his boots, pushed open the door of his lakeside home and tripped over a pair of boots and a jacket abandoned in the hallway.

      Slamming his hand against the wall, he regained his balance and cursed. “Jess?” There was no response from his daughter, but Ash and Luna, his two Siberian huskies, bounded out of the living room. Cursing under his breath, he watched in exasperation as both dogs cannoned toward him. “Jess? You left the door to the living room open again. The dogs aren’t supposed to be in there. Come down here right now and pick up your coat and boots! Do not jump up—I’m warning you—” He braced himself as Ash sprang. “Why does no one listen to me around here?”

      Luna, the more gentle of the two dogs, put her paws on his chest and tried to lick his face.

      “Nice to know my word is law.” But Tyler rubbed her ears gently, burying his fingers in her thick fur as Jess emerged from the kitchen, a piece of toast in one hand and her phone in the other, head nodding in time to music as she pushed headphones away from her ears. She was wearing one of his sweaters, and the gold medal he’d won for the downhill dangled around her neck.

      “Hi, Dad. How was your day?”

      “I made it through alive until I stepped through my own front door. I’ve skied off cliffs safer than our hallway.” Glowering at her, Tyler pushed the ecstatic dogs away and nudged the abandoned snow boots to one side with his foot. “Pick those up. And leave your boots on the porch from now on. You shouldn’t be wearing them indoors.”

      Still chewing, Jess stared at his feet. “You’re wearing your boots indoors.”

      Not for the first time, Tyler reflected on the challenges of parenting. “New rule. I’ll leave mine outside, too. That way we don’t get snow in the house. And hang your coat up instead of dropping it over any convenient surface.”

      “You drop yours.”

      Holy hell. “I’m hanging it up. Watch me.” He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up with exaggerated purpose. “And turn the music down. That way you’ll be able to hear me when I’m yelling at you.”

      She grinned, unabashed. “I turn it up so I can’t hear you yelling at me. Grandma just sent me a text all in capitals. You need to teach her how to use her phone.”

      “You’re the teenager. You teach her.”

      “She texted me in capitals all last week, and the week before that she kept dialing Uncle Jackson by accident.”

      Tyler, entertained by the thought of his business-focused brother being driven insane by calls from their mother in the middle of his working day, grinned back. “I bet he loved that. So what did she want?”

      “She was inviting me to come over when you’re at the team meeting at the Outdoor Center. I’m going to help her cook.” She took another bite of toast. “It’s family night tonight. Everyone is coming, even Uncle Sean. Had you forgotten?”

      Tyler groaned. “Team meeting and Fright Night? Whose idea was that?”

      “Grandma’s. She worries about me, because I live with you, and the only thing that never runs out in our fridge is beer. And you’re not supposed to call it Fright Night. Can I come to the team meeting?”

      “You would hate every moment.”

      “I wouldn’t! I love being part of a family business. The way you feel about meetings is the way I feel about school. Being trapped indoors is a waste of time when there’s all that snow out there. But at least you get to ski all day. I’m stuck to a hard chair trying to understand math. Pity me.” She finished the toast, and Tyler frowned as crumbs fell on the floor.

      Ash pounced on them with enthusiasm.

      “You’re the reason the fridge is empty. You’re always eating. If I’d known you were going to eat this much, I never would have let you live with me. You’re costing me a fortune.”

      The fact his joke made her laugh told him how far they’d come in the year they’d been living together.

      “Grandma says if I wasn’t living with you, you’d drown in your own mess.”

      “You’re the one dropping the crumbs. You should use a plate.”

      “You never use a plate. You’re always dropping crumbs on the floor.”

      “You don’t have to do everything I do.”

      “You’re the grown-up. I’m following your example.” The thought was enough to bring him out in a cold sweat. “Don’t. You should do the opposite of everything I have ever done.” He watched as Jess bent to make a fuss of Luna, and the medal around her neck swung forward, almost hitting the dog on the nose. “Why are you wearing that?”

      “It motivates me. And I like the example you set. You’re the coolest dad on the planet. And you’re fun to live with. Especially when you’re trying to behave.”

      “Trying to—” Tyler dragged his gaze from the medal that was a painful reminder of his old life. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “I mean I like living here. You don’t worry about the same stuff as most grown-ups.”

      “I’m probably supposed to.” Tyler ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I have a new respect for your grandmother. How did Mom raise three boys without strangling us?”

      “Grandma would never strangle anyone. She’s patient and kind.”

      “Yeah, right. Unfortunately for you, I’m not, and I’m the one raising you now.” The reality of that still terrified him more than anything he’d faced on the downhill ski circuit. If he messed this up, the consequences would be worse than a damaged leg and a shattered career. “So have you finished your assignment?”

      “No. I started, but I got distracted watching the recording of your downhill in Beaver Creek. Come and watch it with me.”

      He’d rather poke himself in the eye with a ski pole.

      “Maybe later. I had a