Page 33 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
“It’s so great to see you again.” Jill practically tackled Johanna in a hug after Meg released her. She and Johanna had hung out on Jill’s many visits to New York. “You remember Owen, right?”
“How could I forget this Irish bloke?” Johanna teased, squeezing Owen’s arm in a greeting. “You know, you could play American football with these biceps.”
Owen eyed her over his pint, narrowing his brow in exaggerated disgust. “Take those words out of your mouth immediately, woman!Footballis what your broadcasters call ‘soccer.’ Sacrilegious! Utter blasphemy!” He pointed to an imaginary camera. “Put me on the telly. I’ll show them how real sports are done.” He cracked a wide grin as Johanna raised the white flag.
“Okay, you win. You win.” She waved both her hands like she was under arrest and paused to study him like a specimen she was preparing to dissect for science class. “Actually, you would do well on camera. That strong jawline. Irish accent.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “Our female demographic would fall madly in love with you, and guys would want to grab a beer with you andbeyou. We should talk.”
Owen puffed out his chest, catching Jill’s eye. “You might have this one to contend with. She loves my bedtime football stories, don’t ya?”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage him,” she cautioned Johanna with a shake of her head. “He can talk soccer—uh, sorry—football for hours on end—tactics, stats, player formations. I can tell you way more than I ever wanted to know about three- versus four-player lineups.” She leaned in with a wicked grin. “I will admit, I’ve never found a faster way to fall asleep, though.”
Matt cleared his throat, hanging back like he was waiting for the right opportunity to jump in.
“Oh, sorry, Matt, this is Johanna King, editor extraordinaire and pretty much all-around badass boss woman.” Meg nodded to each of them, smiling at her friend. Having Johanna here bolstered her courage. There was safety in numbers. With Jill and Jo on her side, maybe this weekend wouldn’t be a total bust after all.
Matt reached his hand out formally. “Nice to meet you. I’ve followed Meg’s work at ESPN, and it’s top-notch. From a formerjournalism major, I have to say it’s impressive stuff you’re doing.”
He’s following my work?
Her heart screeched to a momentary halt.
Meg had no idea Matt was even aware she still existed.
Keep it together, Meg.
As if reading her mind, Lucinda stood up gracefully, clasping Johanna’s hand. “It’s a delight to have you join us. I’m so eager to hear about sports broadcasting. I don’t know how you two do it,” she said, looping Meg into the conversation. “It must be distracting to work with so many heartthrobs. Or is it just one big, sweaty boys’ club?”
“A bit of both,” Johanna said. “That’s why assignments like this are so much fun. Meg and I get a break from the locker room, so to speak, for a few days.”
“What’s the assignment?” Matt asked. “Nothing too dangerous, I hope. We’ve got a big birthday bash planned that you’re not going to want to miss.”
“We’re covering the world snocross championships,” Meg said, making space next to her for Johanna. She hadn’t realized what a relief it would be to have her and Jill for moral support. “Thanks for coming,” she whispered again. Johanna squeezed her knee and reached for a handful of spiced nuts.
“Snocross is a bane to our existence here.” Lucinda scoffed, falling back into her chair. “Be prepared for some serious hate. Skiers and snowboarders absolutely loathe the sport, if you can call it that.”
“That’s one of the reasons wearecovering the event. Meg is my secret weapon—she can move mountains with her pink pen and her way with words,” Johanna replied, shifting into editorial mode. “My division is tasked with elevating smaller sports like snocross, and Meg’s the only reporter for the job. She has a gift for finding the human heartbeat inside the surging adrenaline. Ihave no doubt that she’ll have viewers in Nebraska and Alabama ready to book a flight before the segment is over.” She crossed her arms with confidence.
“Yeah, it sounds like it’s an emerging sport,” Meg added. “Eight national events lead to the world championships that are happening here this weekend.” She offered a wry smile. “We’re hoping to find a cozy Christmas angle, but I have no what we’re walking into. That’s part of the fun.”
“It sounds legit.” Matt bobbed his head in agreement. “I’ve seen them setting up the racetrack—it’s huge. Some of the jumps look absolutely insane. I can’t image how big some of the jumps are going to be—they’re going to catch some serious air. And the crashes?” He winced. “I bet they’re going to be brutal.”
“That’s the issue,” Lucinda interjected, holding up a finger. “Motorsports like this are tainting our charming mountain community.” She gestured toward the Christmas tree near the center of the lobby. “Bend is an alpine ski village. We’re Oregon’s most charming holiday destination. You’ve seen downtown and the lodge, right? The city rolls out the Christmas red carpet with dozens of festive events—a holiday scavenger hunt, carolers in the park, light-up paddleboards on the river, five-course dinners with roasted turkey and honey-glazed hams. Everything about snocross is in exact opposition to Bend’s vibe. I hate it. So do most of the skiers I know. It’s a vile, loud sport. I mean, cozy and holiday it is not. That’s all I’m saying.”
Matt caught her eye. They shared a look Meg couldn’t quite decipher, but if she had to guess, it seemed like a warning.
Lucinda pulled back and sighed, pressing her lips together as she shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not trying to come on too strong. I get worked up about the topic. We need to preserve the sweet holiday vibes. You might seriously want to reconsider giving any press to the sport. It’s obnoxious, dangerous, and instead of leaving our mountain smelling like fresh pine, it’s a gas-guzzlingnightmare. I don’t think there’s much that’s cozy or Christmas about it. You’re going to have your work cut out for you trying to find a charming angle for snocross.”
Meg hated to agree with her. Snocross wasn’t exactly her style, but her job was to write about whatever sport she’d been assigned. She’d much rather be tasked with taking a snowy carriage ride through the trails with a hot chocolate and a blanket over her lap, but the job was the job. She was a seasoned pro now and there had been much harder assignments.
She’d spent most of the flight digging into racer profiles, searching for something beyond the stats and lap times—interesting details about their backstories, quirks, family ties, and obstacles they’d overcome in hopes of finding a human interest arc she could lean heavily into.
The thing she’d learned in these last seven years with the network was that the sport was never the hook. Whether it was abseiling in Australia’s Blue Mountains or paragliding in Argentina—every story she submitted centered on thepeoplebehind the sport.
That was the point of the connection. That’s how she drew viewers in.
What drove an athlete to push past their limit?
What made someone race through blistering pain to shave a few seconds off a personal best or spend a lifetime chasing a peak most people would never dare climb?
