The storm sweeps in like a thief in the night... Winter storm
Holly is the worst in eighty years bringing high winds, subzero
temperatures and snowfall better measured in feet than in inches. The
weather paralyzes everything in its path, but in this storm, weather
isn’t the only threat.
Evelyn Cotton deals poker at the Silver
Aces casino in Deadwood to keep the family adventuring business in the
black during the off-season. News of the storm barreling closer has the
casino packed with locals pushing their luck and travelers who are
stranded. When Wyatt Jameson, her high school sweetheart, sits down at
her table it’s all she can do to keep her hands to herself. For more
than twelve years she’s dreamed of choking the life out of him for
running away to the Army without giving her so much as a goodbye kiss.
Wyatt
isn't back in town for a reunion, though seeing Evie reminds him what
sacrifice means. He's been looking for purpose since an injury ended his
Army career. Now, the FBI has recruited him to infiltrate a crew
planning to steal a fortune in diamonds, including the famous Mae West
Solitaire currently on display at the Silver Aces. The thrill of being
needed and the hefty payday if he succeeds easily override the risk of
dredging up the old memories and heartache he left behind.
But
when the thieves up their timeline due to the storm, Evie gets caught in
the crossfire and Wyatt's plans are turned upside down. He has to win
her over -and fast. Without her expertise they might not survive long
enough for him to tell her she's the woman he's never stopped loving.
Don't miss a single installment in the Stormwatch series from half a dozen of the genre's bestselling storytellers!
Frozen Ground by Debra Webb
Deep Freeze by Vicki Hinze
Wind Chill by Rita Herron
Black Ice by Regan Black
Snow Brides by Peggy Webb
Snow Blind by Cindy Gerard
Chapter 1
Deadwood, South Dakota
With her laptop perched on her knees and ear buds in her ears, Evelyn
Cotton hit refresh, hoping this time the man she was scheduled to chat
with would be in the online meeting room. Thanks to technology, it was
her first face-to-face meeting with a potential investor in the family
business she was trying to save.
Except he wasn’t showing up and she
couldn’t sit here staring at the screen forever. She had to get over to
the casino for her evening shift. This time of year, wild winter storms
or not, dealing poker at the Silver Aces kept this family in the black.
Barely.
The investor, Tate Cordell, had contacted Cottonwood
Adventures a few weeks ago. They’d hit it off over the phone and he’d
requested a personal tour to get a feel for the area and a better idea
of her plans to expand and offer winter activities. She was happy to
oblige, but he’d cancelled last week’s visit at the last moment, after
she’d traded away her shift. With the sudden weather system jacking up
flights and travel plans, they’d opted for an online meeting.
“Come on, Tate.”
“He called?” her father, Dale, half-shouted from his beloved recliner.
He’d spent the day in his woodshop, restoring a set of kitchen chairs
for a friend.
“No.” She shook her head. “Must be trouble with the connection.”
“Or he lost interest.”
Gee thanks. Evelyn suppressed a scathing glare. It was bad enough
sitting here as if she’d been stood up by a date. “He’ll call.” She
reached for her boots and pulled them on. When he did show—and he
would—she wanted to make the most of every remaining minute.
“Then what’s with the boots?”
She forcibly reminded herself that her dad loved her, even when he
didn’t show it in normal ways or even in ways she might prefer. Plus,
big storms like the one closing in on them usually amped up his
depression issues. “There’s no sense wrecking my good shoes crossing the
parking lot,” she replied. If the meeting with Tate went well, this
might be her last winter at the casino. Her heart actually fluttered at
the happy thought.
For several seasons now, her father had posed
significant resistance to her many suggestions and ideas that would
shift Cottonwood from merely scraping by as an average three-season tour
operation to a thriving year-round profitable endeavor. Whether or not
he believed she could do it, he seemed determined to prevent her from
trying. None of her spreadsheets or marketing plans had changed his
mind. All she needed to put them on the map was a modest financial
investment for new gear, a storage building, a website overhaul and a
couple of new hires. All sounded like a lot, but she knew how to
prioritize and make every penny stretch.
Her father, despite the
evidence in the roof over his head and food on the table, wasn’t
convinced of her ability. Every time she asked, Dale refused to even
consider a business loan, leaving Evelyn to get creative.
“I wish
you’d stay home.” He pointed at the television, where another aspiring
journalist was bundled up against the gusting wind and blowing snow.
“It’s going to get worse in a hurry.”
“It’s a wonder the mic doesn’t
freeze over,” she muttered. Her laptop chimed and she scrambled back in
front of the camera, only to see that the meeting had timed out without
starting. The chime was an email alert from the casino. Small comfort
to know the internet connection was fine on her end. “Damn.”
Her
father snorted, either agreeing with her assessment or disapproving of
her vocabulary. It didn’t matter. She and Dale hadn’t seen eye to eye on
much of anything since her mother, Tess, died during Evelyn’s senior
year of college.
“Only goes to show you shouldn’t be out in this mess,” he said.
“I wish it was as easy as calling in,” she said. “My boss just asked me
to confirm I can make tonight’s shift and she’s hoping I’ll stick
around to work through the storm.”
“You told me they were evacuating the resorts.”
“Dad.” Evelyn clung to her last scrap of patience as she turned off her
laptop and stowed it away. Tate would reschedule. It helped to remember
that he wasn’t the only backup plan she had working. “They were
discussing the option. If people can’t get out of town, they’ll need
entertainment.” She’d packed an overnight bag and stowed it in her car,
just in case the roads were impassable and she had to stay over.
“You’re risking your neck just so they won’t miss a dollar,” he grumbled when she crossed the room to tell him goodbye.
She could launch into a lecture about the economic boost the casinos
brought to Deadwood with events and tourism every single month. The
Silver Aces even recommended Cottonwood Adventures to guests when the
company was open. She could mention how the casinos reinvested a
generous chunk of their profits back to the community year after year.
She could, but she’d be wasting her breath.
“There’s meatloaf in the
fridge when you’re ready.” She wrapped her scarf around her neck and
kissed her dad’s graying hair before shrugging into her coat. Grabbing
her overnight bag, she escaped her well-meaning father and headed for
her car.
Between the wind and the temperature drop, the air had more
bite as she stepped outside. She leaned into the wind, averting her
face and wishing she’d parked in the garage. Thankfully, her compact SUV
started right up with the same dependability it had shown for years.
She turned on her radio for some upbeat music to perk up for her shift.
Tate being a no show was a bummer, but dwelling on that disappointment
would negatively impact her tips. Unfortunately, her favorite station
was in full storm-mode.
“People.” Winter Storm Holly was becoming a
local obsession. She navigated the winding driveway from her lifelong
home, past the turn off for the Cottonwood Adventures office and to the
main road. “It’s not our first brush with snow.” She laughed at herself,
eyeing the remains of the most recent snowfall lining the shoulders on
either side of the road and covering the wilderness in a blanket of
white.
Traffic was lighter than she expected and, once she was out
of the driveway, the roads were mostly clear. Though she’d lived here
all her life, it was hard even for her to imagine six feet of snow at
the minimum. Maybe people were being smart and heeding the warnings to
prepare for the worst. While that was the smart and safe way to go, it
could cost her on a night when she needed the tips.
She was almost
to the casino before she found a station still playing pop remakes of
Christmas classics. It was enough to put a smile on her face as she
finished the drive and circled for the closest parking space she could
find.
As she gathered her purse and the bag with her good shoes, her
cell phone rang. “Come on, Dad,” she groaned. But she brightened when
the screen showed Tate Cordell’s number. Sucking in a quick breath, she
pulled off her glove and swiped the screen to answer. “Cottonwood
Adventures, Evelyn speaking.”
“Evelyn!” He sounded slightly out of breath. “I am so, so sorry I didn’t make our appointment.”
She stopped herself before she spewed platitudes and nonsense that he
shouldn’t worry about it. It was time to change tactics. She’d been far
too accessible in their prior conversations. He was a busy man, but she
was no slouch.
“I hope everything is well,” she said neutrally. “I’m
about to head into another meeting.” It wasn’t a lie, she’d be meeting
plenty of people on her shift. And she did need to speak with the
manager on the hospitality side of the casino operations about her
recent proposal for team-building excursions and events. “Please, send
me an email and we can reschedule. Have a great—”
“Hang on.” His tone hardened. “My internet connection went out.”
“I hate it when that happens,” she sympathized. The weather was already
draining the warm air from the car. Her ungloved hand was getting
chilled. “Whenever it’s back up and running, send that email.”
“You promised me a tour of the area.”
Her cold fingers were quickly forgotten. He still planned to visit?
He’d agreed to her outrageous price of a thousand dollars for a
glorified walk through the woods, despite it being a snow-heavy season.
They’d scheduled for the day after tomorrow and she’d assumed,
especially after he didn’t make the online meeting that he’d intended to
delay the entire thing. “You’re in Deadwood?”
“Almost,” he replied. “Travel is interesting at best, but yes, I changed my plans to get ahead of the storm.”
“Holly is a beast,” she agreed as a gust sent snow swirling across her
windshield. “And I’m afraid the last update said the storm was barreling
straight for us. We really should postpone until the worst has passed.”
“If I can get in tonight?”
His tenacity, the press in his voice, surprised her. “I’m not available
until tomorrow at the earliest.” Maybe not then if she had to cover for
a coworker.
“What do you recommend?”
“With this storm?” She
looked up at the heavy gray sky, gloomier still as evening deepened and
the light faded. “I recommend you wait it out. The wilderness will still
be here once Holly blows over and everyone can dig out.”
“Dig out?”
She hadn’t asked, but she got the impression Tate had been raised in a
warm climate. “They’re predicting several feet of snow accumulation.
Factor in the drifts and it could be difficult if not impossible to get
around for a few days.”
“I didn’t realize.”
Loosely translated
into business-speak, that meant she wouldn’t be getting an influx of
cash anytime soon. Worse, she might have just botched the deal, giving
him the impression this was winter every year. She scrambled to salvage
something from the call. “A winter storm like this one isn’t something
we see often, not even up here. As I explained earlier, the winter
activities we want to offer won’t be interrupted by inclement weather
any more often than we experience in other seasons.”
“I understand, Evelyn.”
Oh, she hoped he did. More importantly, she needed him to trust her
lifelong expertise in the area and her innovative expansion plans. Tate
Cordell had surprised her when he’d reached out, but to date his
continued interest in Cottonwood remained the most promising solution to
propel the family business into profitable and sustainable territory
for the long term.
There was a rapid tapping noise on his end before he spoke again. “I’ll keep an eye on the weather and be in touch.”
The call ended before she could say thank you.
Chilled again, she shoved her cell phone into her purse and put her glove back on for the dash across the parking lot.
Stan, a friendly face from high school, was the security guard on duty
at the employee entrance. He held the door open for her as she rushed
toward the building. “Evening,” he said. “I hope you did all your storm
prep before coming in.”
She smothered the scream building in her
throat. “Sure did,” she replied. It wasn’t Stan’s fault that no one knew
how to have a conversation about anything other than snowstorms right
now. “Dad is all prepped at home and I have an overnight bag packed in
the car, just in case I need to stay on and cover shifts.”
“You really are set,” he said with a smile. “Have a good shift, Evelyn.”
She returned the sentiment as she walked away. Back here behind the
scenes, the casino had designed a pleasant-enough area, though the focus
was on utility rather than creating the posh experience everyone
maintained out front for guests.
Stowing her coat and scarf in a
locker, along with her boots, she slipped into the heels that completed
the uniform and prepared for her shift. There weren’t any new notices
regarding players or problems, so when it was time, she strolled out to
the casino.
It was her habit to take a circuit of the casino floor
before taking her place at a table in the poker room. The routine helped
her get a feel for the general vibe in and around the casino. Sometimes
social events, big parties, or business groups amped up the energy and
made everyone feel lucky. She had a similar habit when she guided tours
with Cottonwood Adventures, always spending a few minutes by herself
taking in the weather before loading gear or heading out.
Tonight,
the guests seemed upbeat overall. She didn’t hear any chatter about the
weather, not even around the slot machines. There were the usual
grumbles about luck, but the staff worked together to make sure no one
turned mean or disruptive. Although the casino wasn’t at full capacity,
business was brisk, which was a good sign for her potential tips.
Evelyn opened her table for Texas Hold’em and the poker room host filled
it immediately with four men she guessed were traveling together for
business judging by the button-down shirts open at the collar and the
khaki slacks that had probably been freshly creased this morning. The
loafers were the big clue. No local in his right mind wore loafers in
Deadwood at this time of year.
She found the group amusing with
their friendly banter and superb poker-table manners. The various
strategies they each attempted to convince the others to fold were
hysterical. They played for an hour straight before one man excused
himself to take a phone call from his wife.
Between hands, they
discussed local attractions and dinner options. She dutifully
recommended a casino restaurant without bringing up the adverse weather
conditions. It would’ve been nice to suggest a winter walk or a sledding
adventure, but Cottonwood didn’t have those options yet. Not for the
public anyway.
Other players came and went as seats opened up. The
current game was tight as a drum and conversation declined as the
betting increased. The intensity was palpable, though it was Evelyn’s
job to keep up the impression that every player in the game had an equal
chance.
She relaxed a bit more as the hours ticked by and the
players changed. Sure, she preferred working outside in tennis shoes or
hiking boots instead of heels, but on days like today, the casino had
become her salvation.
In here, with no clocks, she could pretend she
wasn’t running out of time for the business or for her personal goals.
Her only task in here was to perpetuate the illusion that a
life-changing jackpot was almost within reach. Beyond the tips, a shift
at the casino also gave her a marvelous break from the constant news and
weather warnings for the area. A customer might mention it in passing,
but then someone would change the bet, or grimace, and the focus would
shift back to the game.
There could be one snowflake or three feet
of snow or even snowmageddon blowing outside. None of that mattered in
the casino. People around town might complain about ‘casino morals’ but
she’d learned that, for her, it was a slice of bliss. She dealt the
cards, players won and lost, she dealt more cards, and the tips added
up.
Did she want this forever? Not a chance. But right now, dealing
at the Silver Aces was her best option. Maintenance expenses, equipment
upkeep and property taxes didn’t go into hibernation after the last leaf
walk in the fall.
“Call,” one of the men at her table declared with
unmistakable excitement and only three cards turned up. There was a
rumble of disappointment around the table followed by relatively sincere
congratulations as the winner showed his hand.
Evelyn suppressed a
smile as the winner gathered his chips. He took his time stacking the
chips into his tray and then finally slid out of his seat, tossing a
mock salute to the losing players.
Groans and complaints erupted from the remaining players. Everyone wanted a chance to change their luck.
“Know when to quit, that’s my motto,” the winner said. “There’s a song about that right?”
“More than one,” she replied.
With a wink, he slid a hundred-dollar chip her way as a tip.
“Thank you. It was a pleasure having you at the Silver Aces.” Evelyn
delivered the standard response politely when inside she was doing a
dance of joy.
When the remaining players were settled again, she
pulled the freshly shuffled deck from the automatic shuffler and
prepared to deal the next game. She didn’t need a clock to know her
break was due after this game, her aching feet and back kept time for
her. Tonight, she was looking forward to getting to the break room so
she could check her phone. She wanted to check on her father and, with
luck, she’d have an email from Tate with new post-storm options for tour
times.
“Pardon me. Is it too late to slide in for this hand?”
She shot a quick glance at the poker room host and confirmed the
customer was in the right place. Giving the man a nod to take the seat,
she waited for him to post his minimum bet and then she dealt him in.
“Evelyn Cotton,” he said as the players checked their cards. “Wow. It’s really you.”
That voice filtered through her senses, a sweet memory and brand new at
the same time. Her head snapped up and she was immediately caught in a
bright, laser-blue gaze. Those familiar eyes seemed to freeze time,
stopping it short and pitching her backward.
Wyatt Jameson.
This
was the last place on earth she’d expect to see him. Of course she’d
given up on ever seeing him again, period. What had she done so wrong
that fate or luck or whatever dumped him at her table? Her gaze swept
over the room. Surely there had been another dealer with an open seat.
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