A Family Like Hannah's

Starting over is serious business

With her professional skiing career cut short by an accident, Hannah James is putting all her energy into transforming Snowy Sky Resort into something special. There’s only one obstacle. Famous pro-snowboarder-turned-consultant Tate Addison has his own ideas about taking the Rankins, Alaska, lodge to the next level. But Hannah won’t compromise her dreams. She gets that Tate is trying to create a stable home for his orphaned six-year-old nephew—a boy Hannah already adores. And if she isn’t careful, she could also fall for the boy’s too-attractive uncle. Is she risking heartbreak? Or do she and Tate really want the same things out of life?

“Hannah, maybe you should accept that I’m here to stay?”

She frowned. “I will accept that, Tate, around the same time I accept the bad recommendations you’ve made for Snowy Sky.”

“Hannah—”

Interrupting with her hands, palms up in a conciliatory gesture, she said, “Okay, shoot, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to get into this again. I want to apologize for the snowball. I don’t lose my temper very often and I—”

“Good, because I don’t want to fight with you, either.”

Something hitched in her chest because his voice was low and smooth and his eyes were pinned on hers.

“Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Hannah’s face felt hot and her pulse began to pound because the opposite of fighting was...

Dear Reader,

I was fortunate to be born into a family of optimists. I’m talking about the kind of people who, if a car breaks down in the middle of nowhere on a dark night with no cell phone service, will say something like, “I only had to walk five miles.” Or “At least it wasn’t raining.”

Hannah James comes from this kind of family, too. She is just this type of person, dealing with every devastating blow life hands her with a steadfast and cheerful grace because, in keeping with her eternal optimism, she truly believes that things will improve. But even the most positive among us have our breaking point. For Hannah that point is rapidly approaching. The dream she’s worked so hard to achieve is in danger of being snatched from her grasp. And to complicate matters, she’s falling for the would-be dream-snatcher, Tate Addison.

Tate wants to make a home in Rankins, Alaska, for the nephew he’s gained custody of. To Tate, a home requires a family. But how can someone who’s never had a family make a home? Especially with such a broken and dysfunctional background as his? And even if he could, how could he ever expect to make a family like Hannah’s?

Thanks so much for spending some time with me in Rankins. Check out my website, carolrossauthor.com, for social media links, the latest book news and other titles in the Seasons of Alaska series.

All my best,

Carol

A Family Like Hannah’s

Carol Ross

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROL ROSS lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. She is a graduate of Washington State University. When not writing, or thinking about writing, she enjoys reading, running, hiking, skiing, traveling and making plans for the next adventure to subject her sometimes reluctant but always fun-loving family to.

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For Aaramie, my niece, friend, fellow adventurer, food enthusiast, joke sharer, amusement parker and travel buddy. You are my “Hannah” inspiration.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

TATE ADDISON STARED down at the single piece of luggage on the dingy, threadbare carpet and felt the knot of tension cinch even tighter in his chest. How could that tiny suitcase hold everything Lucas owned in the entire world?

Tate frowned at the woman standing nearby, the woman who had given birth to him. He refused to call her mom. She’d never earned the title.

“Penny, where are the rest of Lucas’s things?”

She blinked as if surprised by the question. “Well, Tate, this is it. This is all of it. You’d be surprised how much you can pack in one of these soft-sided suitcases.”

“This isn’t even the suitcase I sent him, and I’ve sent him enough to fill twenty suitcases. Where is his skateboard, his tablet, the movies and games, the game system...? His baseball glove?”

Penny swiped a casual hand through the air. “You know how kids are. They break things, grow out of things, lose things...”

It dawned on him then. A hot flash of anger bolted through him. “You sold his stuff?”

“Just what was I supposed to do? He couldn’t eat that baseball glove. Kids are expensive, not that you’d know anything about that while you’ve been living the high life and I’ve been stuck here taking care of him. Do you have any idea how hard that has been on me?”

Now she sounded like the selfish, defensive, passive-aggressive, alcohol-and drug-dependent mother he knew and despised, yet continued to care about. Out of some twisted sense of obligation or responsibility or...something.

“What did you spend the money on I sent you every month to take care of you both? Why did you fight me for custody?”

“He’s my grandson.”

Tate narrowed his eyes menacingly, waiting for her to answer the first question even though he knew she wouldn’t. They both knew very well what she’d spent it on.

“You mean your meal ticket?”

“Lexie left him with me, remember?”

Shards of grief and guilt and anger took turns jabbing at him. But not because of anything Penny said, but because he hadn’t been able to save Lexie from their mother’s poison. He had survived, and even though he hadn’t been able to save his little sister, he was determined to save her son. His nephew.

His jaw flexed so tightly he could barely speak. “Don’t talk to me about Lexie.”

Penny crossed her bony arms over her chest, her face twisted into an ugly scowl. “I know you blame me, Tate. Just like you’ve always blamed me for every bad thing in your life and Lexie’s. But it’s not my fault she died, you know? I didn’t pour those drugs down her throat. She never did know when enough was enough. Nobody’s perfect, not even you. You don’t know how hard it is, but you’ll see and then you’ll be begging me to take that kid back—”

He had learned long ago not to engage with his mother. You can’t reason with irrational and he couldn’t fix her addictions, although he kept trying.

He interrupted sharply, “Where is he?”

She pinched her lips together as she lifted a finger and pointed down the hall.

He took a few steps before turning to face her again. “Viktor is waiting right outside the door to take you to the rehab center. After you get out this time you’ll have two months of expenses paid. That’s it. Do you understand? I can’t—I won’t—enable you anymore. I don’t want to see you, hear from you, or even hear about you ever again.”

She pitched her voice high and dramatic as she tried to squeeze out some tears, “But you’re my son and you can’t keep Lucas from me. He’s my only grandchild—”

“It’s official now. I have legal custody. Lucas is my responsibility. He is no longer your free ride. Do you understand? When you get out, do not call or contact us in any way.”

“Where are you going?” she cried.

Tate ignored her and went to find his nephew. There were only two doors positioned along the dim hallway of the sparsely furnished apartment. The first contained a small filthy bathroom so he continued on. He found Lucas in the next room sitting on a dirty, rumpled sleeping bag atop a bare mattress lying on the floor. The room smelled faintly of mold and urine. Shockingly few items were scattered around—a brown paper bag, a clothes hanger and a bright orange plastic bucket with a large crack in the side.

Lucas held a book clutched to his chest. He looked up when Tate walked in and he hoped he wasn’t imagining the spark that lit amidst the weariness in the child’s arresting blue eyes. A mix of love and relief and anger swirled within him as he studied the pale, forlorn face of his nephew, the only thing left of his sister, Lexie.

He knelt in front of the tiny boy with coal-black hair that so closely matched his own and wondered if, at six years of age, he should be so small.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, Uncle Tate.”

“You ready to hit the road?”

He nodded. “Do I need my sleeping bag? I can’t zip it up anymore because the zipper’s broken.”

“Nope, you’ll be sleeping in a real bed with sheets from now on.”

Lucas’s bland expression told Tate he’d heard similar promises before. Empty promises, broken promises, nights without a warm bed and days without food; memories he recalled all too well from his own childhood with Penny, before Viktor had taken him away.

“Uncle Tate, you won’t leave me in the dark, will you?”

The fear in his voice seemed to pierce Tate’s very soul. “No, Lucas, I won’t.”

Placing a hand on each of the boy’s thin shoulders, he caught his gaze. “Lucas, I know other people have told you things before that weren’t true. Made promises they didn’t keep. But I’ve never done that, have I? Made you a promise I didn’t keep?”

He shook his head and whispered, “No.”

“Well, I’m making you another one right now. I will never leave you. From here on out—it’s me and you and Viktor, okay? We’re a family. No matter what.” Tate silently vowed to do whatever was necessary to make a family for Lucas, even though he wasn’t sure what one was exactly.

Lucas nodded and climbed to his feet and Tate thought that a child of six-years shouldn’t look so tired and...broken. Tate reached for him and Lucas threw his hands around his neck and squeezed. The rush of love he felt was so intense he almost couldn’t contain his sob.

* * *

HANNAH JAMES STEERED her SUV up her friend Edith Milner’s long driveway. As she neared the massive architectural masterpiece of a home, she immediately spotted the tire tracks in the fresh dusting of snow. She was happy to see the renters had finally arrived.

She parked her car, climbed out and headed around the side of the house along the covered sidewalk. Edith had informed the management company that Hannah would be caring for the atrium in her year-long absence, absolving the renters of having to worry about the exotic plants or the koi that lived in the atrium’s indoor pond.

Unlocking the door to the breezeway, she planned to slip in unnoticed and check on the plants and feed the koi without bothering anyone. The hallway to the right connected the atrium to the house. She turned left and pushed the button to open the pneumatic door. A blast of warm, humid air greeted her. She’d been coming here for nearly two years now, but she still couldn’t get over the magic that Edith had managed to create in this remote Alaskan setting.

Edith and her husband had built their five-thousand square foot home nearly two decades ago, but Edith had only added the atrium after her husband of forty-two years had passed away.

Hannah took a moment to admire the atrium’s inviting niches. The bluish-green light glowing through the fat panes of tinted glass. The mosaic tile floor sparkled in muted pastel colors, a perfect setting for the wrought iron garden furniture. The space was a work of art inside and out, and it soothed her soul to spend time there.

She stopped in front of a recessed control panel, checking to make sure the temperature and humidity readings were correct.

The storage room contained an electronic lock with a keypad. She tapped in the combination and went inside. After scooping out pellets for the koi she crossed to the far side of the room, smiling as she approached the large pond taking up roughly half the space. The pond’s surface was smooth and peaceful, broken only by the gurgle from the fountain in the center. But as she walked closer, the swirl and soft splash of water let her know the koi were aware of her presence.

Enjoying the flashes of orange, white, silver, black and red gliding through the water, she began tossing in the pellets one handful at a time. She called the fish by name, commenting on the beauty of their markings or how gracefully they could swim.

As she silently practiced the spiel she planned to pitch later that day at her meeting, she looked up to notice a gorgeous tropical flower blooming. One she’d never seen before. That’s when movement from the other side of the pond gave her a start. A flash of black hair followed by a pair of dark eyes peeking out from behind a ficus tree told her a child was hiding there. Relaxing, she realized Edith’s renters must have a child.

“Hello, there,” she called out.

No answer.

“Would you like to come over here and meet these guys?”

She heard a rustling sound before a small black-haired child sprinted toward the house. The door made a swooshing sound as it opened and then closed again. Poor kid, she thought, must be shy.

She looked at the time on her phone. Too bad she couldn’t stick around and introduce herself. She needed to get to work. As project manager of Snowy Sky Resort, it would probably be bad form for her to be late for her first meeting with the ski-area consultant the board of directors had hired.

* * *

TATE STUDIED THE figures in front of him, satisfied with the projections for the profits from the latest snowboard bindings he’d designed and patented. The Zee Tap had been on the market for only two years, but it was already fast approaching status as the year’s top-selling binding in the world. Even though Tate knew he was doing well, something compelled him to keep continual tabs on his finances. He knew that “something” was undoubtedly his own poverty-ridden childhood.

Since retiring from his professional snowboarding career, he was aware that he only had a limited amount of time to capitalize on his past success. That’s why he’d diversified and taken on consulting jobs like this one at Snowy Sky Resort. Although accepting this particular job happened to be motivated by much more than business.

“Uncle Tate!” Lucas ran up to him nearly out of breath, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Slow down, buddy. What’s the matter?”

“There’s a fairy woman in the fish room.”

“A fairy...what?”

“A fairy woman. She’s in the fish room.”

Tate smiled. Lucas had taken to calling the atrium the fish room. He loved to hang out in there. At first Tate had been concerned because of the water feature, but after a few days he felt certain that Lucas wasn’t going to get in the pond with the fish and if he did somehow fall in, Tate was confident he could climb out.

Even so, he had been thrilled to learn Rankins had a community center with a pool. He’d already enrolled Lucas in swim lessons. He wondered if it was normal to worry and fret about most everything where a child was concerned.

“Come and look at her.”

Tate stood and moved from behind the desk in the spacious room the owner of the house had graciously cleared for his use as an office. She’d left the antique books in the floor-to-ceiling shelves that took up one entire wall and he was glad. It lent the room a cozy feel.

“Okay, but what makes her a fairy exactly? Does she have wings?” Tate assumed Lucas was referring to the woman caring for the atrium in the homeowner’s absence. He’d been relieved when he had learned that he wouldn’t have to look after it. There were plants in there he was certain his brown thumb could wilt without ever touching, not to mention the goldfish.

Lucas explained patiently as he led the way. “No, Uncle Tate, fairies don’t let humans see their wings. Only other fairies can see their wings.”

“I see. So...is she wearing a certain dress or playing the flute or something? Is that how you know she’s a fairy?”

“She talks to the fish.”

“Fairies talk to fish? Do they talk back?”

Lucas had picked up his pace and kept glancing back as if he wasn’t moving quite fast enough. Tate walked faster.

“No, this fairy talks to the fish. I’m not sure if they talk back because I don’t speak fish.”

Tate felt a mixture of affection and amused confusion.

But when they entered the atrium they found it empty of both humans and fairies.

“Oh, no...” Lucas’s face fell as his eyes darted around the warm, bright space. His voice was filled with such abject disappointment it tugged at Tate’s heartstrings. “She’s gone.”

CHAPTER TWO

HANNAH SLIPPED ON her snow boots and wrapped the soft, teal-colored mohair scarf around her neck. She arranged the matching hat on her head and silently thanked her cousin Janie who had knitted the set.

Lift number two had become fully operational today and she was going to check it out before her meeting. She wanted everything to be perfect for Tate Addison. As not only project manager of Snowy Sky but founder and shareholder as well, she was used to doing things her way. She relished the freedom she’d had thus far in seeing her vision becoming a reality.

Hannah was fine with getting a “second opinion,” and yet, having the resort—her hard work, her dream, her baby, her second chance at achieving success—evaluated in this manner? Well, it was bound to be a little nerve-racking for anyone.

Hoisting a hip onto one of the many railings gracing the lodge’s massive front steps, she slid down to the frozen ground and then headed for her snow machine. She couldn’t help the welling of pride as she took in the tall T-shaped metal poles marching up the hillside. Snowy Sky wouldn’t be officially opening until next year, but enough had been accomplished that it was already looking like a real ski resort.

Tate Addison had recently retired from the sport of snowboarding with one of the longest and most successful careers of all time, and although he was several years older than her, she had seen him compete when she’d been on the professional skiing circuit.

She squelched a ping of jealousy; thinking of her own career cut short so cruelly still filled her with a painful longing, a yearning for the medals and accolades she’d been so close to achieving.

Jeez, Hannah, she told herself, bitter much? Mourning the past was most definitely not a part of the “postaccident healing plan” she and her sports therapist, Dr. Voss, had developed and that she had executed over the past few years.

Hers and Tate’s different backgrounds and experiences shouldn’t matter, though. When he looked at the big picture, as he’d been hired to do, everything would be fine. All she really needed to do was collect his stamp of approval. She would answer every one of his questions thoroughly and eloquently. Then, at the board meeting next week, he would inform them of what a great job she was doing, collect his fee and be gone.

Simple.

Hannah headed toward lift two and found Freddie there waiting for her in the control booth as she’d asked. Freddie was a hometown boy, an avid skier and one of the first employees she had hired.

“Freddie, I’m going to ride around one time to check things out and then on the second go-around I’ll radio you when to stop the lift, okay?”

“Awesome. Have fun. Um, I hate to bring this up right now because I know you’ve got this important meeting and all. But Park was in the rental shop this morning snooping around and telling me how to arrange everything. What’s up with that?”

She felt a surge of annoyance. Park Lowell was a shareholder, board member, snowboarder and all-around pain in Hannah’s neck. He also coveted her job and everyone knew it.

“Trying to impress Tate Addison, no doubt. I’ll talk to him.” And remind him who the project manager is, she added silently.

“I didn’t listen to him anyway. Just thought you’d want to know.”

“Definitely. I’m always interested in what Park is up to, especially where Snowy Sky is concerned.”

Freddie nodded. “Amen to that.”

* * *

TATE ARRIVED NEARLY two hours early for his meeting, wanting to inspect the resort’s progress thus far without any biased commentary from the project manager. He’d been using a snow machine Park Lowell had set him up with to scout things out when he noticed that one of the chairlifts was operating. He watched the lift smoothly glide along for a few minutes, admiring the triple-fixed grip chair units before he realized someone was riding on one of them.

Hmm, good timing, workers must be performing some maintenance or running a test. Nice to see construction appeared to be right on schedule or perhaps even a bit ahead of projections, an incredible feat for a project of this magnitude.

Suddenly the lift slowed and then halted completely. Movement caught his eye as the rider then slipped from the chair and sailed downward through the air. He felt his stomach fall right along with the rider, followed quickly by a genuine burst of fear when the person hit the ground and disappeared beneath the deep snow, a puff of powder drifting up to form a white cloud.

Tate hurriedly throttled up the snow machine and sped in that direction. A fall like that could be disastrous—deadly even. His heart hammered loudly in his head as possibilities surfaced, each one more gruesome than the last. He forced himself to focus on what he needed to do. Stopping the machine as he neared the location, he hopped off and moved quickly toward the spot. When he got close he dropped to the ground and crawled toward the indentation.

Calmly, but loudly he called out, “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Can you hear me? Say something if you can hear me?”

* * *

HANNAH’S BLISSFUL MOMENT was abruptly interrupted by a deep voice shouting at her. Was she okay? Of course she was okay. She had assumed the sound of the snow machine was Freddie coming to fetch her even though she’d asked him to wait for her call. But this wasn’t Freddie’s voice.

She opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with a handsome and concerned-looking Tate Addison. She groaned. What terrible timing.

“Where does it hurt?”

Why was he shouting? “Nothing hurts,” she said flatly. He was going to think she was crazy. This was also a tad embarrassing. How could she explain?

She tried to distract him instead. “I’m fine. How are you?”