Page 56 of A Very Daddy Christmas

Until then, we wait for our sleeping beauty to awaken.

The trails are perfect, just as I had anticipated. Above us, a clear blue sky stretches, seemingly forever, a few tufts of clouds scattered here and there. The sun shining on the pure white snow is damn near blinding; luckily, we’ve got reflective snow sunglasses on.

Waylan and Sebastian come around on their snowmobiles while I get mine started and position myself beside Cora’s. I look at her and ask, “Ready to go?”

“Give me a second,” Cora replies. “I need to prepare for this.”

“The trails are groomed, babe. You’re going to be fine,” Sebastian says, his gaze warm as he looks her up and down. “Green suits you, by the way.”

“Wow, you’re good,” she shoots back, then turns the key in the ignition. Her snowmobile rumbles to life, joining ours in a roaring quartet. “Throw a compliment in with every sentence, and I won’t even realize you’re sending me off to my doom.”

Sebastian laughs. “The snow machine does everything for you. Just go easy on the speed and keep a hand ready for the brakes at all times. Don’t rush into it.”

“Rest assured, I have no intention of crashing into the trees!”

“As long as you pump the brakes slowly and in advance, you won’t,” Sebastian replies with a broad smile.

“Just be mindful of your speed, babe,” I reiterate. “And remember the signal if you get scared or need to stop.”

Glancing around, I see other resort patrons enjoying this beautiful day. I can spot the slopes from here, noting some are excellent skiers, while others are gliding disasters. There are a few snowboarders out there, as well. I wouldn’t mind trying to snowboard at some point. For now, however, we’re sticking to snowmobiling.

The lodge is busy, its terrace overflowing with mulled wine aficionados. Granted, they’re using a rare vintage for their signature hot drink, and I’m looking forward to trying it once we’re done with the snowmobiles. Rule number one for our crew—never ride drunk. It doesn’t end well.

“Yeah, yeah, raise my right arm. I’m hungry,” Cora grumbles, glancing back at the resort. “I’ll bet they have grilled sandwiches on their menu. The fancy kind, for sure.”

“You’re hungry? Again? You just ate,” Waylan comments.

“I’m doing all this physical exercise,” she says, half-smiling. “Plus, the heavy-duty training from last night. It’s taking its toll.”

Although I wouldn’t call snowmobiling exercise, we laugh lightly anyway. I didn’t miss the subtle nuance in her voice, however. I don’t know what to make of it. Fear. Shyness. Something else bubbling beneath the surface. Whatever it is, I’ve learned to give Cora her space. She needs to breathe and process things, one day at a time; otherwise, she gets overwhelmed and is prone to drawing tough lines in the wrong places purely for self-preservation.

“You call that heavy duty?” I quip. “You haven’t seen heavy duty yet.”

She stares at me for a moment, her eyes blank. “And now I’m curious.”

“Sebastian, lead the way!” I shout before flipping down the face shield on my helmet.

He slowly goes ahead, swerving left and right with great ease to get his snowmobile warmed up, while Waylan and I stay close behind Cora. She seems to quickly become comfortable with her steering, getting bolder as she speeds up, the snowmobile giving her one hell of a ride.

At least she’s having heaps of fun. Lord knows she deserves it.

After a few miles, a strange feeling begins to tickle the back of my neck. I sense it. Danger.

I glance over my shoulder and spot four other snowmobiles, the riders dressed in white and gray camouflage, quickly coming up on us from behind. They’re moving fast and way too close for comfort. Large, reflective sunglasses sit atop their faces behind their shields. I can’t tell who they are, but I know they’re here to cause us harm.

Waylan has also spotted them and pulls ahead, trying to get Sebastian’s attention.

“Shit,” I mutter, realizing that Cora is moving over to the right and speeding up, probably to play with Sebastian a bit.

She’s opening herself up for an attack.

One of the riders bolts past us and tries to ram into Sebastian but fails to give him more than a nudge. Sebastian gets the upper hand and steers into him. The guy ends up surpassing Sebastian altogether, and it’s all the ammunition my friend needs to speed up and race after him.

The other three are still coming for us.

“Waylan, watch out!” I say to myself, my voice trapped within the confines of my helmet, my heart stopping when a second attacker blitzes him from the left side.

I manage to get past them without joining the collision, then briefly glance back to see both men tumbling down the slope, their snowmobiles stripped of their drivers and sliding on their sides across the slippery trail.

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