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The party was a huge success. It was still early in the evening and Snow Vista was packed with locals and tourists who were enjoying the clear, cold weather and the hum of energy. The crowds were thick; music pumped into the air with a pounding beat that seemed to reverberate up from the ground. All around Sam, people were talking, laughing, dancing. The party was a success. So why the hell was he so on edge?
Then he realized why.
It had been two years since he’d been in a crowd this size. He’d avoided mobs of people like the plague. It was always Jack who’d enjoyed the adoring masses. Sam’s twin had fed off the admiration and applause. He’d loved being the center of attention, always making his ski runs faster, his jumps higher, his freestyle twists riskier.
All to push the edges of an envelope that never had a chance to hold him. Jack was the adventurer, Sam thought, a half smile curving his mouth as he remembered. Even as kids, Jack would go off the beaten path, skiing between trees, jumping over rocks, and once he’d even gone over a cliff edge and landed himself in a thigh-high cast for eight weeks.
Basically, Jack had loved the rush of speed. If he hadn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have died in a fiery car wreck. So useless. Such a waste. And so like Jack to drive himself to his own limits and beyond. He hadn’t considered risks. Hadn’t worried about consequences. It was almost as if he’d come into his life hungry for every experience he could find. There was a time Sam had admired—envied—Jack’s ability to cruise through the world getting exactly what he wanted out of it.
Jack had loved the publicity, the reporters, seeing himself on the glossy pages of magazines. Adulation had been his drug of choice.
“Hell,” Sam muttered, “this party would have been a showcase for Jack. He’d have been right in the center of it all, holding court, laughing.” Shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, Sam glanced at the black sky overhead. “Damned if I don’t miss you.”
“Mr. Wyatt!”
Sam’s head swiveled and he spotted a slim blonde woman with short hair clutching a microphone, headed right at him. Worse, there was a cameraman hot on her heels.
A reporter.
Everything in him tightened, like fists ready for battle. There was a time when Sam had handled the media like a pro. When he was skiing, competing, he was used to being in front of a camera and answering what always seemed like moronic questions. But then Jack died and the questions had changed and ever since, Sam had dodged as many reporters as he could.
That wasn’t an option tonight, though, and he knew it. The End of Season party was big news around here, and as Lacy had pointed out, the more publicity they got, the better it was for Snow Vista’s bottom line.
So he gritted his teeth, planted his feet wide apart in a fighting stance and waited.
“Mr. Wyatt,” the woman said again as she got closer. She gave him a fabulous smile, then turned and looked at her cameraman. “Scott, just set up right here. We’ll get the party in the background for atmosphere.”
She hadn’t even asked if he’d speak to her. Just assumed he would. The reporter was probably used to most people wanting to do anything to get on camera for a few minutes.
When the light flashed on, Sam squinted briefly, then looked to the woman. Around him, the curious began to gather, with the occasional teenager making faces and waving to the camera.
“I’m Megan Short reporting for Channel Five,” the woman said, her smile fake, her voice sharp and clipped. “I’d like to talk to you about this event, if you’ve got a few minutes.”
“Sure,” he said with what he hoped was more enthusiasm than he felt.
“Great.” She turned, faced the camera and, when the guy behind the lens gave her a signal, she started right in. “This is Megan Short and I’m reporting from Snow Vista resort where the annual End of Season party is under way.”
Sam forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath. While he half listened to the reporter, he let his gaze slide over the raucous crowd. More gathered behind him, jostling to get on camera, but most were too busy partying to pay attention. The music still pounded, people were laughing, kids were ice-skating on the pond. The air was cold and the sky was clear. A perfect night really—but for the reporter.
“In recent years, the party at Snow Vista just hasn’t been the same, some residents have claimed,” Megan was saying as she turned from the camera to look up at Sam. “But tonight, it looks like everything is as it should be. And I think that’s due to the return of local champion Sam Wyatt.” She turned, gave him another fatuous smile and continued, “What’s it like for you, Sam, to be back here where you and your twin, Jack, once ruled the slopes?”
