the Snow-Vee. He could go on and on, and did when asked, but mostly he appreciated their performance in the often harsh Colorado winters.
He adjusted the rear-window defroster, then clicked on the fog lights as he maneuvered the Hummer out of the narrow drive at the base of the mountain where he lived in a newly constructed log home. Today was usually one of the busiest days of the season at Maximum Glide, where he was the general manager. He wanted to get an early start before he was bombarded with lost skiers, missing skis, snowboarders monopolizing the slopes, and the broken bones that were sure to happen to some poor unlucky souls. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself. His coal black hair was in need of a trim, big-time. His dark blue eyes were shadowed with gray half-moons. He’d spent too many late nights carousing with the guys. But what the hell? He was a single guy. What else was there to do after-hours? Currently, there was no special female in his life, no woman for whom he really cared. Not really, or at least no one that he would admit to. He’d been out with Stephanie Casolino-Marshall, the manager of Snow Zone, a few times, but he’d put a stop to that going anywhere real quick-like. Not that he would admit this either, but that woman had touched a part of him that had remained untouched for all of his thirty-nine years. He wasn’t about to involve himself with a woman whose past was as dark as his black Hummer. No way. Women like her did nothing but cause pain and heartache. At least that was what he believed. He’d seen too many of his best buds go down that path. A woman with kids and an ex was pure trouble with a capital T.
That last evening he’d spent with Stephanie had sent him running. That damned movie with all those kids and that Brady Bunch happily-ever-after stuff was definitely not for him. He’d never asked her out again, and she’d never questioned it. She probably knew she wasn’t prime meat on the for-sale market, but hey, that was her problem. She’d been sweet, and in spite of all that she’d been through, there seemed to be a hint of innocence about her. That part had touched him. Before he allowed himself to explore exactly what that meant, he’d boogied his way right back to his old tried-and-true rule. If he hadn’t slept with the woman by the third date, she was history. He’d been on four dates with Stephanie and hadn’t even kissed her. Definitely time to move on. A vision of dark eyes and long brown hair caused him to veer off the road. And those two girls of hers, well they were absolutely adorable, but kids were totally off-limits for him. No way. His sisters’ three boys and one girl were enough kids for an overprotective uncle. Besides, he’d seen what had happened to his sister Colleen. Kids were not on his life list.
“See! This female/kid crap is for the birds,” he said. “I’ll wreck the Hum if I keep thinking along those lines.” He shifted into low gear before turning onto the winding road that led to Maximum Glide. It was still early; the lifts didn’t start running until nine. As it was one of the busiest days of the year at the ski shop, he wanted to check in early, make sure Stephanie and Candy Lee had things under control. He didn’t want another episode like last year. He’d thought Stephanie had been ready to take over all the duties at the ski shop. Patrick had insisted she order all the stock for the upcoming season. She’d been doubtful, but said she would do her best. And dammit, her best had cost the resort big bucks. Her order was modest, not near enough to cover them for the month of December. He hadn’t been too hard on her because she was so damned…well, she was so kind and apologetic. He hadn’t the heart to scream and yell at her as he was known to do when things didn’t run smoothly. Patrick simply wanted to do the best job possible. As general manager, it was his responsibility to make sure his employees knew exactly what their jobs entailed; otherwise, it was his ass on the line. Max Jorgenson and Patrick, or “Eddie” as Max still insisted on calling him, had been friends since they were in their early twenties. While Max was busying making Olympic history, Patrick had immersed himself in college at the University of Colorado, where he’d also received his master’s degree in political science, thinking someday he would change the world. Like all young men, he’d had an idealistic view of the world’s potential for change, and felt it was up to him to contribute to that change. So after he’d graduated, he went to work for the State Senate. Eight years of dirty politics destroyed his idealistic vision of making a difference. He’d had his fill of self-interested liars, cheaters, and backstabbers who had anything but the interests of their constituents at heart. Leaving a successful career, Patrick spent that first winter out of politics doing absolutely nothing except hitting the slopes. He reconnected with Max. They’d bummed around for a while, then Max married Kayla and hired him to run the resort. For two years after Kayla’s tragic death, his good friend had sat on the sidelines, but now he was happily married to Grace, who Patrick thought was the best of the best. A good egg.
Coming from a large Irish family, with four older brothers and three younger sisters, had made him extra protective of women but guarded, too. He knew what little sneaks they were most of the time. Growing up, he’d been the best big brother he knew how to be. Which in his family meant he’d been to six proms, three of them with his youngest sister, Claire, who’d explained she simply needed him to act as her date because the guys in high school were just “totally immature.” Which was a crock of crap. Claire had been trying to hook him up with her best friend Lisa Grimes since the first time Claire brought her home to meet the family her freshman year of high school. Patrick was flattered, but she was too young, and she was like a kid sister to him.
Then there was Megan, a year older than Claire. Megan was the family dreamer. She sailed through school without any problems but didn’t have much of a social life. Patrick worried about her and told her so. Shocked that he’d felt that way, she revealed that she’d been dating a college man since her sophomore year. When he’d asked why she hadn’t brought him home, Megan had clammed up. After much screaming and many threats, Megan had finally told Patrick why she hadn’t brought her boyfriend home to meet the rest of the brood. He was married. Patrick wanted to find the son of a bitch and kick his butt, but Megan refused to reveal his name. She’d made Patrick swear he wouldn’t tell their parents. He’d reluctantly agreed. Megan reminded him that she didn’t pry into his love life, and he should grant her the same respect. She’d had him on that one, but he’d always kept an extra close eye on her.
Three years after Megan graduated from high school, her married lover divorced his wife and made an honest woman out of her. Patrick didn’t care much for the guy, now a high school math teacher. He treated his sister and their three boys, Joseph, eight, Ryan, six, and Eric, who’d just celebrated his fourth birthday, extremely well. As long as Nathan continued to do so, Patrick would accept him as his brother-in-law, though not without reservations. Patrick took Megan aside once and told her if Nathan cheated on his first wife, the odds were good he’d cheat on her. They’d been married for twelve years. As far as Patrick knew, Nathan hadn’t strayed.
Finally, there was Colleen, only a year younger than Patrick. Married to her high school sweetheart as soon as she’d graduated high school, she didn’t bother with college. She’d always made it very clear to the entire family that becoming a mother was her life’s desire. And she had. Almost one year to the day after she’d married Mark Cunningham, she delivered a healthy baby girl, Shannon Margaret. Eighteen months later, Abigail Caitlin came along. Colleen couldn’t have been happier. Mark had accepted a job with Apple, and they had moved to Seattle. Their life together had been almost perfect until Shannon Margaret became ill. At seventeen, Shannon was in her senior year of high school doing all the exciting things seniors do. Mark and Colleen planned to surprise her with a bright red Hummer as a graduation gift. Shannon had been as much in love with Hummers as he was. A week before graduation, Shannon had complained about being extremely tired and short of breath. Colleen had laughed, telling Shannon her endless pre-graduation activities would wear out a triathlete. Shannon continued to complain over the next few days, but no one really paid much attention. Three nights before Shannon was due to graduate, Colleen found her in a heap on the bathroom floor, almost comatose. She’d called 911, and they’d rushed her to the hospital, where doctors were mystified until the results of her blood work came back from the lab. Shannon suffered from a rare and oftentimes deadly blood disorder, Thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura. The doctors shortened it to TTP. Her platelet count had dropped to eight thousand, and her red blood count was so low,
