SNOWED IN WITH MY DAUGHTER'S BILLIONAIRE

Three hours of white-knuckle driving through increasingly heavy snow, and I was already regretting this whole Christmas arrangement.

My hands cramped around the steering wheel as I navigated the winding mountain roads toward Pine Ridge, the halfway point where Lily and I had agreed to meet. The weather app kept pinging with storm warnings, each alert more dire than the last. But my seventeen-year-old daughter had been so excited about spending Christmas with me for the first time since the divorce that I'd have driven through a tornado to make it happen.

"Mom, you're going to love Noah's dad," she'd gushed over the phone last week. "He's super successful and has this amazing house, and he offered to drive me to meet you since he was heading that direction anyway."

Noah's dad. The mysterious boyfriend's father who was apparently wealthy enough to casually offer three-hour road trips as favors. I'd spent the drive constructing an image of him in my mind—probably some middle-aged real estate mogul with a receding hairline and a gut hanging over his designer belt, the kind of man who thought money could solve everything and probably spoiled his son rotten.

The Pine Ridge Diner sat like a beacon in the swirling snow, its neon sign cutting through the gray afternoon. But my relief at finally arriving evaporated when I spotted the parking situation. The small lot was packed, with only one space remaining near the back corner.

I put on my turn signal and began backing into the spot, checking my mirrors carefully. The snow was coming down harder now, fat flakes that stuck to my windshield faster than the wipers could clear them.

That's when a sleek black Porsche came screaming around the corner and shot straight into my parking space.

I sat there for a moment, staring in disbelief. The Porsche's engine purred to a stop, and through the tinted windows, I could make out the silhouette of a man adjusting his rearview mirror like he hadn't just committed highway robbery.

Heat flooded my chest. I laid on the horn—three long, angry blasts that echoed across the parking lot.

Nothing. The driver didn't even glance in my direction.

I threw the car into park and yanked open my door, not caring that snow immediately began collecting on my shoulders. My boots crunched across the asphalt as I marched over to the Porsche and rapped sharply on the driver's side window.

The window slid down with an expensive whisper, revealing a man in dark sunglasses despite the overcast sky. Even sitting down, I could tell he was tall, with dark hair that looked like he'd just stepped out of some magazine spread. Definitely not the paunchy real estate king I'd been expecting from some random rich dad.

"Hey, asshole!" The words flew out before I could stop them. "I was here first!"

He tilted his head slightly, and I caught my reflection in his sunglasses—wild-haired and furious, snowflakes melting on my flushed cheeks. When he spoke, his voice was maddeningly calm.

"The sign says first come, first served." He gestured toward the parking sign with one long finger. "I came first."

"I was literally backing into that space when you—"

"Were you in the space?" he interrupted, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal eyes the color of storm clouds—gray-green and utterly unimpressed. "Because I don't see your car in the space."

The sheer audacity of it left me speechless for a moment. He used my stunned silence to step out of the car, and I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. He was even taller than I'd thought, wearing a charcoal wool coat that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"You can't be serious," I managed.

He pocketed his keys and gave me a smile that was all sharp edges. "Dead serious. Enjoy finding another spot."

Then he walked away, his long strides carrying him toward the diner entrance like he owned the place. Like he owned the whole damn town.

I stood there in the falling snow, watching him disappear through the glass doors, my hands clenched into fists. Of all the entitled, arrogant—

A car honked behind me, and I realized I was blocking traffic. With no other choice, I trudged back to my car and began the humiliating search for another parking space.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally found a spot three blocks away and half-jogged through the snow to the diner, my hair damp and my mood somewhere south of murderous. The warm air hit me like a wall when I pushed through the doors, carrying the scent of coffee and fried food.

"Mom! Over here!"

Lily's voice cut through the diner's chatter, and I turned to see her waving enthusiastically from a corner booth. My heart lifted at the sight of her—she'd grown at least an inch since I'd seen her last month, and her dark hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She looked so much like her father at that age that it made my chest ache.

But as I started toward her, my steps faltered.

Standing beside the booth, looking perfectly at ease in his expensive coat, was the parking lot asshole. He'd removed his sunglasses, and those storm-cloud eyes were fixed on me with something that might have been amusement.

"Mom!" Lily bounced up from the booth, her face glowing with excitement. "This is Noah's dad, Ethan Cross! Mr. Cross, this is my mom, Harper Reid."

Ethan Cross extended his hand, and that sharp-edged smile was back. "Ms. Reid. We meet again."

I stared at his outstretched hand like it might bite me. The universe had to be playing some kind of cosmic joke. This was Noah's father? This was the man who'd graciously offered to drive my daughter halfway across the state?

"You two know each other?" Lily looked back and forth between us, her eyebrows raised.

"We had a brief encounter in the parking lot," Ethan said smoothly. His hand was still extended, waiting.

I had two choices: make a scene in front of my daughter, or swallow my pride and pretend to be a civilized human being. Lily was watching me with such hopeful excitement that the choice made itself.

I took his hand. His grip was firm and warm, and he held on just a beat longer than necessary.

"Pleasure," I said through gritted teeth.

"The pleasure's all mine." His thumb brushed across my knuckles before he released my hand, and I caught something in his expression—a flicker of something that made my pulse stutter.

Lily clapped her hands together. "This is so perfect! I was hoping you two would get along."

I slid into the booth across from them, trying to ignore the way Ethan's presence seemed to fill the entire space. Noah, a lanky teenager with his father's dark hair and an easy smile, scooted over to make room for Lily.

"Dad told me about the parking thing," Noah said with a grin. "He said some lady tried to steal his spot."

"Noah," Ethan's voice held a warning note, but his eyes were dancing with mischief.

I caught Lily and Noah exchanging a look—quick and conspiratorial, like they were sharing some private joke. Something about that glance made alarm bells ring in the back of my mind, but before I could analyze it further, the diner owner's voice crackled over the intercom.

"Folks, I've got some bad news. The highway patrol just called—they're closing Route 9 due to the storm. Nobody's getting out of Pine Ridge until tomorrow at the earliest."

A collective groan rose from the other stranded travelers. I felt my stomach drop. Twenty-four hours. Trapped in a tiny mountain town with Ethan Cross.

"The Pine Ridge Inn is already booked solid," the owner continued. "If anyone needs a place to stay, there's a warming center set up at the community center."

I was already reaching for my phone to call hotels in neighboring towns when Ethan spoke up.

"I have a cabin about twenty minutes from here," he said, his voice casual. "There's plenty of room."

I looked up sharply. "You just happen to have a house around here?"

He shrugged, and something in the gesture reminded me of Noah. "I have houses in a lot of places."

Of course he did.

"Oh my God, yes!" Lily practically bounced in her seat. "A Christmas cabin! Mom, this is like something out of a movie!"

I opened my mouth to refuse—spending the night under the same roof as this man seemed like a recipe for disaster. But Lily's face was so bright with excitement, and the alternative was a night on a cot in a community center gymnasium.

"Please, Ms. Reid," Noah added, his expression earnest. "It's a really nice place. And my dad's actually a decent cook."

"I make a mean hot chocolate," Ethan said, and there was something almost boyish in his smile that caught me off guard.

I looked at my daughter's hopeful face, then at the snow still falling steadily outside the diner windows. My Christmas plans were already shot to hell. How much worse could it get?

"Fine," I said. "But I'm driving myself."

Ethan's smile widened. "I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise."

As we gathered our things to leave, I caught that look between Lily and Noah again—satisfied and secretive. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather ran down my spine.

This Christmas was about to get very complicated.