Snowed In With A Billionaire. Karen Booth

life. It made for a solitary existence though, one that was starting to chew a hole through Joy’s sanity and sense of self, especially now that Christmas was almost here. Unfortunately, lies and lone-wolfing were the best ways to keep her cover, and keep it she must.

      Natalie’s car quaked and rumbled as it idled, but at least it was still spitting out heat. December in Colorado was no joke. Although Joy had grown up in Ohio and had lived through her fair share of bitter cold winters, she’d lost much of her immunity to chilly temperatures while living in LA and Santa Barbara over the last few years.

      “Which way are you leaning? Staying or going?” Natalie asked.

      “I’m not sure. I need to weigh my options, find a permanent place to live. Let me know if you hear of anyone who needs a roommate. I’d love to share the rent with someone.”

      “I’ll definitely ask around. We’d hate to lose you at the bakery. I love working with you.”

      “That’s so sweet of you to say. I love working with you, too.” Joy nodded eagerly. Those words were the truth. Still, her pulse was starting to thunder in her ears. What if the real owner of this house came outside, wondering what a strange car was doing idling out front? What if they suddenly came home? The thought put her too close to the edge, a place she’d spent the last several months. Someday she would get settled. Someday she wouldn’t have to be a nomad.

      “Just so you know, I’m not trying to guilt you into staying. Seems like you’re pretty overqualified to work there.”

      “I’m really not overqualified. Pastries and baking are just as much work as French or Italian cuisine.” Those were Joy’s specialties, but if she started talking about food, she’d never get out of the car, and she was already tempting fate by sitting there. Needing to force the issue, she pulled the handle and opened her car door. “I should go. I’m beat from today and you should really get home before the snow gets any worse.”

      Natalie leaned across the seat and looked up at Joy. “Do you want me to talk to my brother about helping you with your car? He works cheap if I tell him it’s a favor to me.”

      Even cheap is too expensive for me. “It’s nice of you to offer. I’ll let you know. Thanks so much for the ride. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

      Of course, I have no clue how I’m going to get there, but I’ll worry about that later.

      “If the bakery stays open in this storm. I’d check in with Bonnie later tonight before you go to bed. She’ll tell you what the contingency plan is based on the forecast.”

      “Thanks. I’ll do that.” Joy dawdled on her way to the mailbox, pretending to fumble with her bag, then stood with her hand on the pull, waving at Natalie. As soon as she was out of view, Joy pulled back her hand. Knowing her luck, she’d get saddled with federal mail tampering charges.

      Joy waited another moment, standing perfectly still as snow fell all around her, collecting on her shoulders and her nose. As soon as she was certain Natalie was long gone, she doubled back to the end of the street and started her long walk up the hill to the sprawling luxurious mountain estate of her former employers, Harrison and Mariella Marshall. Landing the job as head chef at the Marshalls’ estate in Santa Barbara, California, had been a dream come true. Now she was enduring a bizarre bad dream, one in which her surroundings were still luxe and of the Marshall variety, but the reality was decidedly less shiny.

      Harrison Marshall, one of the world’s original celebrity chefs, owned a global culinary empire. Working for him was the ultimate foot in the door when it came to being a chef. Unfortunately, Harrison had been in a near-fatal car accident soon after Joy began working for him. In the aftermath, Harrison’s family unraveled, especially his wife, Mariella. She used Joy as a verbal punching bag, launching unprovoked tirades about things as minor as what type of table salt to use. One day, Mariella pushed too hard, and Joy quit. With little money and zero prospects, she walked away from the best job she’d ever had.

      Only empathy from Mariella’s son Rafe had saved her, and it was a temporary fix. He’d given her the keys to the Vail house, saying she was okay to stay until mid-January, when his siblings would likely come to ski. It was such a beautiful home, her stay was a respite, of sorts, but she still needed to work, and the only employment she’d found was at the bakery downtown. It was money and that was all that mattered.

      Normally, Joy would be driving her beat-up car home from the bakery at this time of day, rocking forward and back in the driver’s seat and praying it would make it all the way to the top. Not today. The cantankerous piece of junk had decided not to start that morning. This was after she’d just spent the only significant chunk of money she had, nearly six hundred dollars, on fixing it. She would’ve been better off abandoning the car and keeping that money for a deposit on an apartment. The clock was ticking on that front. Mid-January would be here before she knew it.

      She’d considered borrowing one of the three cars in the Marshalls’ five-car garage, all of which had to cost more money than she could make in five years. As someone who was supposed to be laying low, driving around town in a showstopper of a vehicle was a recipe for attracting too much attention. She’d attempted to borrow one of the family’s bicycles, but she only made it partway down the icy driveway before nearly wiping out. At that point, out of options and on the verge of being late for a job she absolutely needed, she’d decided to spend her last available cash on a taxi. Hence the ride home from Natalie.

      The storm seemed to be gaining momentum now. The fluffy fat flakes from earlier were turning to icy pellets. The wind was blowing like crazy, howling between the trees and rustling snow from the branches in dramatic swirls. With a deluge of frozen precipitation pummeling her face, she had to squint in order to see. Joy tugged her scarf up around her ears and over her mouth. It was hard work to scale the hill, and she was breaking out into a sweat, even in the freezing temperatures. The high down in Vail that day had only been twenty-eight degrees. She got off work from the bakery at 3:00 p.m. each day, and it was nearly five now. The sun had set. The brittle night air grated against her cheeks; it worked its way into her bones. Colorado was beautiful, but Joy wasn’t sure she was cut out for being a snow bunny long-term. She would’ve done anything at that moment for a margarita and a beach.

      She dug the toes of her boots into the compacted snow, trudging away, careful to stay as far to the side of the road as possible. So much snow had fallen over the last few weeks that waist-high banks lined both sides of the street. She zipped her jacket up around her face and focused on what was waiting for her when she reached the top. She visualized the unbelievable bed she’d been sleeping in every night, the fluffy king-sized pillow-top in Mariella’s daughter’s room. Climbing in and sinking into that luxurious mattress, swishing her bare feet against the fine sheets, was pure heaven. It was her reward for surviving every day. It was also her safe place, a place where she didn’t allow herself to become mired in negative thoughts or worries about where she would go next or what she was going to do in terms of building a future. Yes, she was living a borrowed life right now, and a clandestinely borrowed one at that, but she had to be thankful for what she had. A roof over her head and a warm place to sleep were at the top of the list of her blessings.

      The incline was getting steeper. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder. Her breaths came faster, icy air slicing through her lungs. Everything was freezing—her feet, her thighs, her fingers, and especially her cheeks. She started to shake from the cold. Think of the bed. Think of the bed. Just then a soft glow came from around the bend. Light bounced off the snowbanks and the snow-covered branches of the dense stands of trees all around her. The light became brighter. It swept from side to side. But it was the strangest thing. There was no noise. She’d typically hear a car by now. And then came a recognizable sound—the crunch of tires over snow.

      The black car came into view, up at the very top of the hill. She inched closer to the side of the road to be safe. She waved her hand to make sure the driver saw her, and he seemed to, slowly moving to the center of the road. She looked down at her feet for an instant and the next thing she knew, the car was skidding across a patch of ice, drifting closer to the opposite side. She could see his exact trajectory. He was going to go into