Love Is Murder

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Twenty-four-year-old Lucy Kincaid had certainly needed a break, but snow skiing hadn’t turned out to be quite as much fun as her brother Patrick had promised. In fact, Lucy had spent more time in the snow than on the snow. Snowsuit notwithstanding, she was cold, wet, and miserable.

“I told you I didn’t know how to ski.” Lucy shivered in the passenger seat of Patrick’s truck. She put her hands directly in front of the heater vent.

“You just need more practice. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Wimp.”

“Is it wimpy to not want to freeze my ass off?”

For just a second, Patrick took his eyes off the curvy mountain road. “Since when have you been a quitter?”

“It happened the thousandth time I hit the snow.”

Patrick laughed. “You weren’t all that bad.”

“It’s no fun to fail.”

“You’re just cranky because everything usually comes so easy to you.”

“Not true,” Lucy protested, knowing her brother was right.

Patrick grinned.

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