Page 5 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
Tannon
The storm warnings have been getting worse all day. I check the weather radar on my tablet, watching the massive system bearing down on us from the northwest. Red and orange bands that mean business.
"How bad?" Jake asks, looking over my shoulder.
"Bad enough." I point to the storm's path. "Two feet of snow overnight, winds hitting seventy kilometers per hour."
"Christmas Eve blizzard. That's gonna make for some stories."
"It's gonna strand everyone here." I grab my radio. "Boone to base, copy?"
"Base here, go ahead," Helen crackles back.
"Storm's moving faster than predicted. We need lockdown protocols now. No one leaves after six PM."
"Copy. How are supplies?"
I run through my mental checklist. "Generator fuel good for three days minimum. Food adequate. Backup heating tested. We're set."
"What about the Christmas Eve party?"
I pause, thinking about two disappointed kids and a woman who's been fighting impossible odds all day to make Christmas happen.
"We'll make it work. Main lodge has backup power."
After signing off, Jake raises an eyebrow. "Since when do you give a damn about Christmas parties?"
"Guest safety."
"Uh-huh. This sudden interest wouldn't have anything to do with a certain pretty nanny, would it?"
I give him the look that usually ends conversations, but Jake's immune after three years of friendship.
"Just doing my job," I mutter.
"Your job doesn't usually involve volunteering to be Santa."
He's got me there. I can't explain agreeing to wear that ridiculous suit without admitting that something about Dove Williams makes me want to be the kind of man who fixes things for her.
"I didn’t volunteer. And besides, kids deserve a good Christmas."
"What about their nanny?"
My radio crackles before I can answer. "Tannon, we've got a situation with the Ashford family. Can you come to the main lodge?" Ray, one of our season staff, asks.
"What kind of situation?"
"Just come see."
Jake and I head toward the lodge, passing guests who seem excited about being snowed in for Christmas. Inside, I spot the problem immediately. A man and woman in expensive coats stand near reception, both on phones, talking loudly about market volatility and conference calls.
The Ashfords. Has to be.
"The Ashfords need internet," Ray explains quietly. He shakes his head, his elf hat jingling. "Parents showed up twenty minutes ago. The reunion wasn't exactly heartwarming."
"Where are Dove and the kids?"
"Back at their suite. Kids ran to hug their parents, got maybe two seconds of attention before the business calls started. The nanny looked ready to commit murder."
