Page 8 of Claiming Her on the Mountain

His scowl slides, a look of confusion replacing it. “What are you talking about?”

“She didn’t know who I was, even after I told her my name.”

He barks a laugh. “The hell she didn’t. You were on her fantasy hockey team four years in a row.” The smile slides off his face and his eyes narrow. “Wait… how did you meet Winnie?”

His gaze is fixated on me, and it’s obvious he sees right through me. I gulp, and he swears under his breath.

“Jax Whalen believes in fairytales?”

“No! But… well, I heard…” My voice trails off lamely.

“Let me guess,” he says quietly, leaning across the bar. “You heard there’s a magic spring that’ll fix your knee and get you back on the ice next season? It’s horseshit. Nothing more than a local legend that even the locals have long forgotten.”

“Something like that,” I admit. “I didn’t believe it but figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.”

He chuckles. “Bet Winnie wasn’t happy to find you on her property. She can be a firecracker.”

“You can say that again. She tried to shoot me.”

He bursts into laughter. “No, she didn’t.”

“The bullet holes in my luggage beg to differ.”

He shakes his head. “If Winnie tried to shoot you, you’d be dead. She’s former SWAT.”

The pieces click into place as I think of what she told me about Woof saving his partner’s life. “How did Woof lose his leg?”

Caleb’s eyes soften and his mouth tilts into a smile. “Woof’s the best dog there is. Took two bullets for Winnie. Nearly died. She’s been making it up to him ever since.”

I absentmindedly trace a finger down my jaw, remembering Winnie’s scar.

Caleb nods. “She hit the ground pretty hard. Split her face open. Had to be stitched up, but nothing life-threatening. Because of Woof.”

White-hot rage surges through my body. Just the thought of Winnie being in danger causes bile to rise in my throat. I want to strangle the bastard that hurt her. “What happened to the shooter?”

“He’s serving a prison sentence and getting the help he needs. He’s a schizophrenic and had been in and out of the criminal justice system for years for petty misdemeanors. Winnie knew him well. Liked him, even. She’d helped him get into treatment facilities many times. But that day he was off his meds and out of his mind.” Caleb starts to say more, but he spots someone over my shoulder and his face splits into a grin. “Hey, there, McAllister!”

With a sigh, I spin in my seat to look, and my heart sputters to a halt. Even wearing a parka, she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. “It’s you,” I say dumbly.

Winnie’s big, blue eyes twinkle with amusement. “Is it?”

“Listen, I’m sorry for—” My words falter as I study her face. She’s bundled up in a coat and hat, and a scarf is wrapped multiple times around her neck, covering the scar on her jaw. Her delicate features and electric blue eyes are unmistakably Winnie, but her expression is… wrong. I lean closer, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not…?”

“I’m not,” the woman agrees. She unwinds the scarf, showcasing a flawless jaw. Then she removes her winter cap, releasing a tumble of hot pink hair. “I’m Willa. I don’t think we’ve met. What am I saying? Of course, we haven’t. I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting Jax Whalen. You thought I was Wren? How could you tell I wasn’t? Most people can’t tell us apart, especially if I’m wearing a hat. We used to trick people all the time, just for fun. Even our parents can’t always tell us apart. And Caleb doesn’t even try. He just calls us all McAllister. But you knew? Wren has all the luck, I swear. I mean, besides being a single mom, of course. She rocks at it, though. Her kid is the coolest. But she gets to meet all sorts of A-listers since she works at the resort. Last week, she met Taylor Swift, and the week before that, George—”

Caleb laughs. “Take a breath, Willa.”

My head is spinning with information. Winnie has a twin? A very talkative twin. My mouth falls open as I realize what she’s just said. “Wren? There are three of you?”

Willa holds up three fingers, ticking them off one by one. “Wren’s the one with the kid. Winnie’s the one with the dog. I’m the one with the—”

“Mouth,” Caleb teases.

Willa laughs. “Chainsaw.”

I stare at her. “Chainsaw?”

“I’m an artist,” she says, like that explains everything.

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