Page 4 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas (Holiday Shifters of Frost Mountain)

“Who Wears Goggles in a Starbucks?”

“Hello? Earth to Rachel.”

She blinked as a pair of fingers snapped before her eyes. “Hey!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t accidentally spill some of my coffee in your lap,” Samantha Banks said, rolling her eyes at her friend. “I’ve said the same thing to you thrice in the past minute, and your eyes keep glazing over like I’m explaining quantum physics.”

Rachel bit her lip, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry. Run it by me again, will you? I’ll pay more attention this time.”

The warm scent of cocoa wafted into her nostrils as she leaned back in her seat, gazing across the table at Sam. The Starbucks was mostly empty except for a few couples seated at other tables and two women placing their orders. Quite unusual for this time of day. Not that Rachel minded one bit. The fewer people there were, the better. Gentle Christmas jingles filled her ears as if from a mile away.

Sam smirked at her. “I was saying that we need to figure out what we’re gonna have for dinner unless we want to go to bed hungry.”

Rachel took a sip of her coffee, feeling the slight burn on her tongue. “I’m exhausted. We’ve been shopping all morning.”

“We?” Her friend snorted. “Honey, you did most of the shopping. At some point, I started wondering how we were supposed to pay for all those clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what are our options for dinner?”

“I was thinking pizza or mac and cheese.”

Rachel thought for a moment. “Pizza sounds perfect. We could just order in.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Sam sighed. “Maybe once we…Rachel? You’re doing it again.”

Rachel barely heard her. Her eyes were riveted on the man who had just walked into the coffee shop at the same time that “Jingle Bells ” began to play.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, towering over almost everyone else. He had on a blue two-piece snowsuit and white gloves. His dark boots left a wet footprints in his wake as he made his way to the counter. All she could see of his face was a smooth-shaven jaw and pursed lips. Large, dark goggles shielded his eyes from view. The man had a pair of skis and poles clutched in his arms.

“Rachel.” Sam shot her a disapproving look.

“Sorry, I was just looking around.”

“No, you were definitely checking out that guy who just walked in.” She cast a glance in the man’s direction. “Rachel Reeves, I didn’t know you were into skiers.”

“I’m not,” Rachel said, watching the man as he waited to be attended to. “I mean, I don’t think I am. I don’t know. I’m not even sure what he looks like. Who wears goggles in a Starbucks?”

The man gazed around the shop. For a second, he looked in Rachel’s direction, and although she could barely see his face, she could’ve sworn that their eyes met.

Sam got to her feet all of a sudden. “I need to use the bathroom,” she said. “Be right back.”

With that, she turned and disappeared. Rachel reached for her coffee again, bringing the cup to her lips for a long sip. When she set down the cup, there was somebody standing next to the table. She registered a blue two-piece snowsuit and reddish-brown hair dusted with snow, her reflection staring back at her from those dark goggles.

“Oh!” she gasped. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” said the skier. His voice was deep, yet gentle. Standing over her, he looked even taller. “I saw you from the counter and figured I’d come over and say hi. You’re very pretty.”

Rachel had heard comments like that hundreds of times over the years, but for some reason, hearing this man say it caused heat to flood her cheeks. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He chuckled. “But you don’t even know what I look like.”

With that, he reached up and slowly took off his goggles.

A gasp parted her lips. The man’s eyes were metallic grey, his gaze intense and piercing. Looking at him, Rachel could’ve sworn she felt her heart stop. She had to admit that the mere sight of him elicited certain thoughts. Thoughts about what an amazing model this guy would make, and what might happen if they somehow ended up locked in the same room.

She managed to recover her wits before she drooled all over the table. “You’re…you’re alright.”

This time, his laughter seemed to reverberate throughout the coffee shop. “I’m going to assume that’s the highest compliment you’ve ever given anyone.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you look like you’ve just found yourself face to face with the man of your dreams.”

Rachel’s breathing faltered for a moment. “Looks can be deceptive, you know.”

“How about you give me a chance to prove you wrong?”

“What do you have in mind?”

He cocked his head to one side. “A date, of course.”

Rachel tried to stifle the bubbling sensation filling her chest. “Usually, when guys ask me out on dates, they tell me their names first. Names are important. I need to know who I’m dealing with.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh. For all I know, your last name could be Bundy or Dahmer. I’m not taking that risk.”

He grinned and raised both hands. “Well, I can assure you that I’ 'm safe. My name’s Michael. Michael Malone.”

“Rachel Reeves.”

“Rolls right off the tongue.”

“I could say the same about yours,” she countered.

“You’re an interesting woman, Rachel Reeves,” Michael said. “I get the feeling this is the start of one hell of an adventure for both of us.”

***

Michael.

She awoke with his name in the forefront of her mind, preceding any concerns she had about her well-being. She had no idea where she was or what had happened to her, but the image of Michael’s grinning face and snow-speckled hair filled her consciousness.

“Michael!”

Her eyes flickered open, and she blinked at the sudden brightness. Rachel sucked in a breath, expanding her awareness of her body and surroundings. She was lying on a hard surface, some kind of wooden floor, judging from the musty smell. She blinked some more until her surroundings came into focus. She was in a room. To her right, a window sat slightly open, letting in just enough light to illuminate the place. A gentle crackling alerted her to a fireplace on her left. Rachel’s mind worked hard, piecing all the information together to make sense of her situation. She had to be in some kind of cabin. But where? And how had she gotten here?

“Do you always murmur in your sleep?” asked a voice above her head.

She rolled away from the fireplace, scrambling to her knees. Seated less than three feet away, calmly watching her, was a woman with long, stringy, brown hair hanging down the sides of her face. She looked almost Rachel’s age, and Rachel had to admit she was quite pretty, although there was a ruggedness about her features. She wore a red sweater with a fading logo emblazoned across the front. Chanel. She was frowning.

Rachel asked the first questions that popped into her mind. “Who are you? Where am I? Where is…where is he…?”

She stilled as the memories came trickling back to her like a gentle stream. The details were hazy at first but soon became clearer. She’d been on a plane headed for Chicago. Flight 18, was it? One second, she’d been wondering about her casting call and the next, she’d been holding on for dear life as the plane fell out of the sky, pieces scattering in all directions.

How she’d survived was still a mystery to her. But the shock of her situation on this strange mountain had only lasted until he nearly crashed into her on his skis.

“Where is he?” Rachel demanded again, glancing around the room. She figured she must be in some kind of town somewhere, but she had no memory of reaching the bottom of the mountain or bumping into Ms. Chanel over here.

“Who?” The woman’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“Michael. Where is he?”

Surprise flickered in the woman’s eyes. “You know Michael?”

Did she know him, too? A flutter of relief and anticipation filled Rachel’s belly. “Of course. He’s my boyfriend.”

Ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself, feeling her gut clench.

After three years of no contact, it would be foolish of her to assume she still had a relationship with Michael. Then again, that didn’t matter right now, did it?

“You need to calm down,” said the woman, although Rachel thought she detected a hint of irritation on her face. “You’ve been unconscious for a little less than a day. Why don’t you get some more rest? I’m sure you’re still tired.”

Rachel was tired, she had to admit, but it wasn’t like that mattered much right now. Michael was out there somewhere. She shook her head and started to rise to her feet, but the other woman was surprisingly quick, placing both hands on Rachel’s shoulders and forcing her back onto the floor.

“Relax,” she urged. “Reba will want to see you. I’ll get her. Wait here.” She left the room, shooting Rachel a stern look as she went. Rachel started to follow her but decided it was probably more sensible to remain where she was. She sat down on the wooden floor again, fidgeting slightly as she waited, her mind crowded with thoughts.

Michael was here, wherever this was. It was almost too insane to believe, but he’d been standing there in the flesh right before her eyes, real enough that she could kiss those lips she’d missed ever since his disappearance, solid enough that she could give him the slap he so badly deserved for abandoning her.

That was what had happened, wasn’t it? He’d left her at that resort years ago, tears streaming down her face and taken off, disappearing completely off the radar. This whole time, he’d been alive and well. He must have been trying to get away from her. No wonder he’d seemed so shocked when she kissed him.

In all honesty, Rachel had been unable to stop herself. She’d needed to kiss him more than she needed to draw her next breath of cold, dry air. Right now, as the details settled in her mind, she was torn between throwing her arms around him and giving him a swift kick where the sun don’t shine.

She swallowed bitterly. For so long, she’d accepted that something had happened to him, but clearly, it had all been no more than a game. A zero-sum game in which he got the freedom he wanted, and she merely had her heart shattered. The passage of time might have dulled the pain, but after bumping into him on the mountain, that wound had been reopened.

You’re going to see him, she assured herself. Soon.

She should think more positively about things. That was what Diane would tell her.

Always look on the bright side.

She’d been in a plane crash and nearly died on a snowy mountain. The bright side? She’d bumped into the long-lost love of her life.

But she was also clearly far away from home. Away from Vegas, from Sam, from everything she’d come to know as normal. Now, if she could just get Michael and maybe get the heck out of here…

Just then, a door creaked open, and the brown-haired woman stepped into the room, followed closely by another woman. The newcomer was older and somewhat shorter, with slightly darker hair and squarer shoulders. Her dark gaze swept around the room, finally landing on Rachel, who couldn’t help flinching.

“You must be Rachel,” she said and smiled.

Rachel clambered to her feet. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Reba, chief of this village,” the older woman replied. She gestured toward Ms. Chanel. “You’ve met my daughter, Elena.”

The other woman eyed Rachel like she was an annoying fly she was refraining from swatting.

“You’re in Melinor,” Reba said. “Our village.”

“Melinor. I heard that name earlier, outside.”

“You passed out on the way up the mountain. You’d had barely anything to eat or drink.” Reba stepped closer. “It’s a miracle you survived at all.”

Rachel hadn’t even thought about that. She didn’t feel hungry or thirsty anymore. Her best guess was that Elena had been feeding her while she was out.

“Yeah, I guess,” she replied. “I still have no idea where the heck I am. My plane crashed here.” She frowned as another memory settled in her mind. “This…is Frost Mountain?”

Reba nodded.

“I’ve never heard of it.”

The older woman flashed her a warm smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know yet, dear. Perhaps Elena could give you a tour of the village and tell you everything you need to know. You could use some time outside, stretch your legs for a bit.”

The prospect of walking through the snow outside with nothing but her jacket to protect her from the cold didn’t exactly appeal to Rachel, but what reluctance she felt was immediately dispelled by the possibility of bumping into Michael again. Her heart suddenly racing inside her chest, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

Elena looked like she’d just been asked to swallow a live toad. The woman seemed to have some problem with her, but Rachel had no idea what.

“I have…other responsibilities, Mother,” Elena said stiffly.

“Do you, now?”

“I do.”

Mother and daughter shared a look.

Finally, Reba sighed. “Of course. I’ll show you around, Rachel. Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure you’ll love this place.”

Something about the way the woman spoke told Rachel she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Uh…okay.”

She followed Reba out of the room and out of the cabin into the snow, immediately hugging her arms to her chest with a light shudder. It was brighter outside than Rachel had figured. For a few seconds, she stood in the snow and gazed around, her eyes widening in awe.

When Reba mentioned that they were in a village, Rachel had pictured a small, almost deserted place with a few old buildings, but Melinor was thrumming with life. Buildings of different shapes and sizes sat scattered across the edge of her vision, people of various ages sitting, walking, or running through the snow. The village looked far from modern, without roads or technology as far as she could see, but the realization that there were more people and buildings on this mountain than Rachel had figured was definitely shocking.

Rachel gave a start as a couple of children darted past her, giggling excitedly as they chased each other around the back of a building.

“Shall we?” Reba gestured ahead of them.

They walked through the snowy streets, Rachel’s gaze swiveling about. Villagers greeted Reba as they passed them, and the woman simply smiled and waved back. Rachel glanced at the woman. Out here, she looked somewhat older. In her mid-sixties, probably. A grey streak was visible through her dark locks.

Chief of the village. Rachel frowned. Something about this place felt…odd. She supposed it wasn’t unusual that she was feeling this way. Who were all these people, anyway? And why would anyone in their right mind choose to live on this mountain?

They weren’t human, most likely. She knew Michael wasn’t. If he was with these people, there was a chance they were also supernaturals.

A repeated banging to her left caught her attention. The sound was coming from a low building not far away. The door sat ajar, and inside, she caught sight of two men hunched over some wood, working furiously. One of them turned slightly, and she spotted his face.

“Michael?” Her heart jackhammering in her ribcage, Rachel started to head for the building, but Reba took her arm. For a woman her age, she had a rather strong grip.

“Not now,” Reba told her, shaking her head.

“But that’s…”

“I heard about what happened,” the woman said. “Michael himself told me. He says you know him somehow, but he doesn’t remember you. He has no idea who you are.”

Her words struck Rachel like a sucker punch to the groin. “He…doesn’t remember me?”

Somehow, she knew Reba was telling the truth. It was the only other explanation as to why he’d seemed so confused when she kissed and slapped him. Michael had no memory of her. Something must have happened to him.

Determination surged through her veins, and she balled her fists. She’d given up once, years ago. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Maybe he really couldn’t remember who she was. But Rachel was going to do everything in her power to make sure that he did.

I’m here, Michael, she thought. I’ve finally found you.