Page 50 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
They found a spot in the press tent. For the first time since she’d arrived, Johanna forgot about Connor and leaned into hearing Olivia’s story.
Maybe this was a sign she was on the right track.
THIRTY-TWO
MEG
The snocross arena was even more wild than Meg could have imagined. It was a strange mix of holiday banners and pulsing holiday beats mingling with the continuous low growl of engines and screech of tires sliding across the icy snow. She was a practiced extreme sports journalist who knew the drill. She didn’t waste any time, checking in at the press tent and pulling racers in for interviews and candid photos she would share on ESPN’s social media. Working for the biggest sports network in the country, and arguably the world, came with instant clout. Snocross racers, organizers, and brand sponsors sought her out. It was a far cry from her early days working forNorthwest Extrememagazine.
She could hear Gam’s voice and gentle nudging, asking:Is this your path? Is this your passion?
Right now, it was her paycheck, and that was what mattered.
It was funny to think about how radically different her life in her twenties had been compared with her vision. She wouldn’t have imagined ending up in New York, let alone being a lead reporter at ESPN. This decade had defined her, giving her time to get to know herself and get comfortable in her own skin. She was grateful for that, but she could feel something stirringbeing back in Oregon. It wasn’t just the wide-open spaces or the reunion with her best friends; it was a longing. She couldn’t articulate it—not yet—but she recognized the tug. Gam would say it was her higher self.
Maybe.
She needed to give it time, to let it percolate.
Did she want to come home?
Was this home?
She shrugged off the thought as she concentrated on filming the snowmobiles warming up and taking a practice run through the track.
“Megs, hey, Megs!” A familiar voice yanked her attention away from the racecourse shortly before the first round of qualifiers was set to begin.
Only one person called her Megs.
Matt.
He’d come!
Buzzy zaps sparked in her body like an electric current.
Stop, Meg.
Don’t go there.
She plastered on a wide smile and greeted him with a carefree wave as if it were every day they bumped into each other on a snocross track in Bend, Oregon. She checked over his shoulder to see if Lucinda had tagged along.
No sign of the heiress.
Take it as a win, Meg.
“You’re pink.” Matt’s gaze traveled from her hat to her snow boots, lingering for a minute too long before he went in to hug her awkwardly, patting her lightly on the shoulder like he was afraid she might break. “It’s good to see some things don’t change. I love that about your on-air reports. I can always tell when you’re covering a story because I’ll catch a flash of pink in the background before they cut to you.”
He was looking for her on TV?
Her heart ricocheted against her chest, speeding up like the snowmobiles catching big air.
“Johanna told me the day she hired me that ESPN could use more pink, and I knew right then and there that we were going to get along just fine.” Sweat dripped down the base of her neck. She shouldn’t be hot. It was below freezing, and snow was predicted later in the day, but she caught a whiff of Matt’s aftershave and his minty gum, and everything around her seemed to suddenly vanish, like she was hyper-focused on him and only him. Were there even people around them? Or were she and Matt suddenly the last two people on the mountain? She couldn’t resist the pull—the palpable spark between them.
Did he feel it, too?
She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to resist the urge to move even closer to him.
Why had she cut off all communication with him?
