Page 35 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
THIRTY-TWO
MEG
The snocross arena was even more wild than Meg could have imagined.
It was a strange mix of holiday banners and pulsing holiday beats mingling with the continuous low growl of engines and screech of tires sliding across the icy snow.
She was a practiced extreme sports journalist who knew the drill.
She didn’t waste any time, checking in at the press tent and pulling racers in for interviews and candid photos she would share on ESPN’s social media.
Working for the biggest sports network in the country, and arguably the world, came with instant clout.
Snocross racers, organizers, and brand sponsors sought her out.
It was a far cry from her early days working for Northwest Extreme magazine.
She could hear Gam’s voice and gentle nudging, asking: Is this your path? Is this your passion?
Right now, it was her paycheck, and that was what mattered.
It was funny to think about how radically different her life in her twenties had been compared with her vision.
She wouldn’t have imagined ending up in New York, let alone being a lead reporter at ESPN.
This decade had defined her, giving her time to get to know herself and get comfortable in her own skin.
She was grateful for that, but she could feel something stirring being back in Oregon.
It wasn’t just the wide-open spaces or the reunion with her best friends; it was a longing.
She couldn’t articulate it—not yet—but she recognized the tug. Gam would say it was her higher self.
Maybe.
She needed to give it time, to let it percolate.
Did she want to come home?
Was this home?
She shrugged off the thought as she concentrated on filming the snowmobiles warming up and taking a practice run through the track.
“Megs, hey, Megs!” A familiar voice yanked her attention away from the racecourse shortly before the first round of qualifiers was set to begin.
Only one person called her Megs.
Matt.
He’d come!
Buzzy zaps sparked in her body like an electric current.
Stop, Meg.
Don’t go there.
She plastered on a wide smile and greeted him with a carefree wave as if it were every day they bumped into each other on a snocross track in Bend, Oregon. She checked over his shoulder to see if Lucinda had tagged along.
No sign of the heiress.
Take it as a win, Meg.
“You’re pink.” Matt’s gaze traveled from her hat to her snow boots, lingering for a minute too long before he went in to hug her awkwardly, patting her lightly on the shoulder like he was afraid she might break.
“It’s good to see some things don’t change.
I love that about your on-air reports. I can always tell when you’re covering a story because I’ll catch a flash of pink in the background before they cut to you. ”
He was looking for her on TV?
Her heart ricocheted against her chest, speeding up like the snowmobiles catching big air.
“Johanna told me the day she hired me that ESPN could use more pink, and I knew right then and there that we were going to get along just fine.” Sweat dripped down the base of her neck.
She shouldn’t be hot. It was below freezing, and snow was predicted later in the day, but she caught a whiff of Matt’s aftershave and his minty gum, and everything around her seemed to suddenly vanish, like she was hyper-focused on him and only him.
Were there even people around them? Or were she and Matt suddenly the last two people on the mountain?
She couldn’t resist the pull—the palpable spark between them.
Did he feel it, too?
She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to resist the urge to move even closer to him.
Why had she cut off all communication with him?
What a stupid move, Meg.
Sometimes, you’re way too much like Pops—stubborn with tunnel vision.
She churred internally and plastered on a smile.
“Johanna seems great,” Matt said, scanning the crowd for her boss. “It was cool of her to invite me.”
“Same for Lucinda. Where is she, by the way?” Meg winced at the jealousy in her tone, scanning the slope again to see if Lucinda was lurking nearby.
Her visceral response to being in Matt’s orbit surprised her.
She thought she was over him, at least over him enough not to feel like she was crushing hard again.
But instead, one happy memory after another replayed in her head.
Her body felt light and dewy, like it was floating above her in the gossamer clouds.
If she weren’t so bull-headed, maybe it would be her he would be proposing to.
“I’m not sure. Probably prepping for the festivities later. She lives for planning a party like tonight. It’s going to be next-level.”
“Yeah, forest formal. I had no idea that’s a thing. I guess I’m out of the loop with PNW trends these days.” She grinned and ran her hand over her jacket. “I guess pink is probably out, yeah?”
“Hey, you do you.” Matt chuckled. “Lucinda’s going for a forest theme.
It’s where she wants to shift the company’s branding, but she’s gotten resistance from her dad.
I think she’s hoping that the party tonight will help him embrace her vision, but there’s some baggage there, and I don’t get the sense she’s really that thrilled about staying. ”
“What about you? Are you still enjoying Bend?”
“I love it, yeah. I mean at least for now. It’s the perfect size for me.
Small but not too small. The outdoors, the food, the beer.
Close enough to Portland that if I want to get a hit of the city, I can take off for a weekend.
” He chomped his gum as he became more animated, speaking about his hometown of choice.
“The mountain is right here.” He motioned toward Mount Bachelor in the distance.
“And it’s year-round sports—mountain biking, skiing, kayaking, yeah, I don’t think I could ever go back to Portland, not permanently. ”
What did that mean for his relationship with Lucinda? If she wasn’t content in Bend, was there trouble in paradise?
Meg hated that she felt hopeful there might be a crack in their relationship.
“And what about Blazen?” Meg asked, immediately regretting how formal she sounded, like she was interviewing him… not whatever this was. “It sounds like you’re flying up the ranks.”
“It’s good, yeah,” he said, kicking at the snow, sending a little flurry in the air. “I’m sort of in the golden handcuffs phase. The money is great, and they keep throwing stock and raises and perks my way…” He trailed off with a shrug. “But I’m not sure if it’s what I want to do anymore.”
“I feel you on the golden handcuffs, although what’s the cheapest form of metal? Pewter handcuffs, maybe? Whatever’s the least expensive metal they make handcuffs out of these days—that’s me at ESPN.”
He laughed.
“Still, it’s hard to walk away from a steady paycheck. I get it.”
“Yeah, but you’re doing it. You’re really doing it.” He looked at her with something that felt like awe.
“I don’t know…” she said, dropping her eyes to her boots.
“I mean, I have to come up with a ‘Snow Report’ today. Something that captures the thrill of snocross with just enough holiday charm to make it sparkle. Forecast—slightly cloudy with a chance of a dramatic wipeout.” She sighed.
“I’ve been wracking my brain since Johanna gave me this assignment. What am I going to do with that?”
“Hmm. Could you take the snow-crossed-lovers angle?” he asked, meeting her eyes with an intensity that was equally steady and soft and made her knees feel completely unreliable.
“Maybe.” She gulped, feeling her cheeks flame.
“No, Megs, you’ve really done it.” His voice was low and sincere.
“You followed a dream—a big dream—and look at you, fancy ESPN reporter, living in New York, an NYT feature; I’m super proud of you.
I tell all my friends about you. They get tired hearing about it and watching the highlight reels I put together of your clips. ”
“Highlight reels?” She wrinkled her brow, wishing her heart would stop thundering against her chest.
Why did being around him again make her feel like no time had passed?
Was it just her or did it feel like he was leaning in closer, too?
“Sure.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “It’s not many people who can claim they’re friends with a famous ESPN reporter.
” He paused, the smile fading into a frown.
“Well, I guess I probably can’t claim you as a friend.
Listen, Megs, I’m so glad you came. I still can’t believe it.
When Luce mentioned that you and Johanna RSVP’d yes, I thought she was pranking me.
We have so much to get caught up on, and I just want to say again how sorry I am.
I could have handled the situation so much better.
I understand why you went dark, and I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain. ”
“Matt, we’ve been through this,” Meg started to reply. She’d practiced this response—this moment—a million times in her head. It wasn’t all Matt’s fault. She was responsible for her part in their fallout, too.
“No, really, Megs, I’ve got so much to tell you, and I hope you’ll give me one more chance to let you know how truly sorry I am and find a way to make it up to you.”
The race organizer announced that the first leg was about to start.
Meg reached for his hand. “Yeah, let’s talk later.”