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Revenge of a Chalet Girl:
Lorraine Wilson
REVENGE OF A CHALET GIRLAll she wants for Christmas is…revenge.When chalet girl Amy Wright finds her ex’s name on Chalet Repos’ guest list she sees her chance to get back at him – Josh Carter, the guy who broke her heart. Getting revenge without losing her job will be tricky but luckily the other chalet girls are on hand to offer their support. Pretty soon she’s in too deep and realises she doesn’t want to hurt him anymore. She wants him back.There’s just one teeny complication…
Revenge of a Chalet Girl
Lorraine Wilson
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Contents
Lorraine Wilson (#u5feac4ed-3b2e-5488-8e8c-e34de0c1051e)
Dedication (#u46ce686c-27d5-529a-af41-2f61e13202ef)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue2c21882-6e2e-52bf-ab63-9a28a9b06d56)
CHAPTER TWO (#u267200a5-95a2-5cd6-ac10-b3d515421130)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Love Romance? (#litres_trial_promo)
About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Lorraine Wilson (#u2a88a022-4c48-5a8e-836c-b4d2a683fb13)
I live in Wiltshire with my husband but love to travel and have lived in four continents. From playing amidst Roman ruins in Africa as a child to riding a Sultan's racehorse in the Middle East as a teen, I’ve many experiences to draw on for the stories I’ve been writing ever since I can remember. When I’m not writing you'll find me listening to audiobooks while I sew or design handbags, usually with a rescue terrier or two curled up on my feet!
A big thank you to the team at Harper Impulse but also special thanks to David, Lilian and Doug for all your support. x
CHAPTER ONE (#u2a88a022-4c48-5a8e-836c-b4d2a683fb13)
No, no, no!
Amy’s heart leapt wildly about her chest, pounding even harder than it had the time she’d tried a spinning class.
It has to be a different Josh Carter. It has to be!
Despite the crackling fire in the fireplace and cosy underfloor heating, Amy shivered.
“Are you okay there, Amy? Have you got those tree decorations? We’re running out of time, especially if Scott and Holly have a clear run back from Geneva Airport,” Sophie called out from the open plan living area.
“Er, yes.” Amy hastily put the bookings print out back by the telephone. That would teach her for being nosy. She picked up the cardboard box full of Christmas lights, glass icicles and shiny red baubles and walked into the room, taking it over to Sophie.
It’s not my Josh, it can’t be…
“Great.” Sophie twisted her caramel-blonde hair up into a ponytail and got up from the cowhide sofa to take the box from her. “I think we’ll have enough now.”
They both looked at the non-drop Christmas tree that soared up to the double height ceiling in the corner opposite the fireplace. They’d already put two boxes worth of decorations onto the tree and were fast running out of time before a minibus full of guests descended on them.
Tash and Amelia walked in, carrying four mugs of hot chocolate between them.
“Drink up, I’ve made them Irish.” Tash winked at Amy who attempted a weak smile but it felt forced and unnatural. A reflection on how she was feeling - disconnected from her surroundings.
If it was her Josh Carter she needed the alcohol. And the chocolate. In fact she’d need a shedload more of both…
“Thanks.” Amy took her mug and tried to let the Michael Buble tracks playing softly in the background get her into the Christmas mood. Candles flickered on the windowsill and thick flakes of snow fell steadily outside, the sky so white it felt like they were immersed in the snow cloud.
It should be perfect. She had been looking forward to Christmas, even though she’d be working. There’d be parties, skiing and snow…
But now her mind was full of Josh, the thoughts had latched on, unshakeable. Memories of the last Christmas they’d shared together at his parents’ house in Devon taunted her. Josh had saved up to buy her a silver hare brooch, he’d always joked she was like a hare, full of bounce and a bit wild. If anyone had suggested it was going to be the last time she’d celebrate it with him she’d have laughed.
Unthinkable.
She lifted the mug to her lips and swallowed a lump of pain down with the warm chocolate. The instant rush of sugar helped to take the sting away a little. She was used to swallowing down pain when it came to Josh. She’d had a lot of practice.
Christmas in Verbier had sounded such fun. Far better than going home to her parents and being asked if she’d met any nice boys yet, or when was she was going to settle to a ‘proper’ job?
“Anyone know anything about the guests coming today?” She tried to sound casual, getting down on her knees on the cowskin rug to sort out the Christmas lights, testing the bulbs so she wouldn’t have to look any of the girls in the eye. Sharing a dorm room meant they all knew each other pretty well.
Sometimes too well.
Tash was only too happy to share the gory details of her latest sexual conquests. How she got away with the things she got up to Amy didn’t know. Luckily for Tash, Scott and Holly were great to work for and made it clear that what their staff got up to in their own time was their own business.
“I think it’s a stag party.” Sophie flopped back on the sofa with her mug and a packet of silver strands to untangle.
Amy and Amelia groaned but Tash whistled. “Just think of the tips, girls.”
“But what will they expect us to do for those tips?” Amelia pulled a face. “Don’t you remember the time that stag group made us have a drinking competition to compete for our tips?”
“Hey, you might enjoy it. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Tash retorted. “Anyone’d think you were forty-six, not twenty-six.”
“Where are they from? Oh crappitty, crap, crap…” Amy cursed as the plastic casing of one of the lights snapped in her fingers. She’d have to make sure that one went around the back of the tree.
“Who?” Tash stared at her curiously.
Really, that girl had the attention span of a gnat. Either that or she was being uncannily perceptive.
“The stag party of course.” Amy’s jaw clenched with the effort of trying to sound casual. Really, she wanted to grab hold of Sophie and shake the details out of her.
“Not sure,” Sophie replied, sipping at her chocolate, fixing her hazel eyes on Amy. “Why?”
Why indeed?
Amy couldn’t think of a reasonable answer. Not one she wanted to give, anyway. She shrugged, “Just wondering.”
“Fancy your chances with one of them do you?” Tash asked. “Decided to stop being so choosy?”
“Leave her alone Tash.” Sophie got to her feet and came over to the box of decorations, emptying and sorting it with her usual efficiency. “Don’t you want the field left clear for yourself?”
“There’s plenty to go around and you’ve got to be generous at Christmas, haven’t you?” Tash replied, grinning.
Amy fumbled with the lights, almost dropping them as she passed the string up to Amelia, now up on the stepladder next to the tree. Every muscle in Amy’s body tensed and a familiar tight sensation had gripped her chest. She tried to reassure herself.
There were other Joshua Carters. There was absolutely no reason why it should be him. She’s never heard him express an interest in skiing when they’d been together.
No, but you can bet he has the kind of friends who ski…who might invite him on their stag weekend.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, feeling positively twitchy. If the flight had arrived on time she’d find out soon enough. Her stomach lurched and when a wave of nausea washed over her, she dropped the end of the string of lights.
“What’s up?” Amelia called down, flicking her straight blonde hair over her shoulder and fixing cool blue eyes on her.
“Sorry, I need the loo,” Amy practically raced out of the room, ignoring the curious looks of the others and not waiting for a reply.
Instead of heading for the bathroom, she raced outside, desperate for fresh air, needing to breathe again. This hadn’t happened to her for years. She’d never had panic attacks before, well, before her life had imploded, leaving her crushed under the debris.
But she’d moved on from that bleak time, hadn’t she? Had been depression-free for years, yet now it seemed to hover like a dark cloud on the horizon.
She focused on the view, on the dramatic plunge down into the valley, the alpine range soaring into the sky and the miles upon miles of pristine, powder snow. If she didn’t anchor herself in the here and now she feared the past would catch up with her and sweep her away.
I should be over this…
The sunshine was warm on her face, despite the chilly wind. She inhaled the fresh mountain air, slowly deepening her breathing and trying to employ the special yoga techniques she’d learnt in class.
So many gym classes. So many attempts to keep busy, to keep moving so she wouldn’t have to think. Now she’d been casually shoved off the precipice she’d painstakingly clawed her way up. Just by seeing his name on a list.
Great progress Amy. You thought you were doing so well but look at you!
She persevered with the breathing and located her backbone.
Get it together.
She wouldn’t let it get to her.
“It isn’t Josh,” she whispered fiercely to the mountains as though speaking it aloud could make it true. If only she were free to go skiing this afternoon, that would’ve made her feel better. She needed a nice endorphin rush to flush the negative feelings out of her system.
And if it is Josh I’m going to give him hell. He won’t get the satisfaction of seeing me looking defeated. He needs to see I’m over him.
Even if it isn’t true.
The sun, now low in the sky, disappeared behind a lone dark-grey cloud and she shivered, wrapping her arms around her body.
I can do this.
Back in the chalet, she found Sophie and Amelia had gone into overdrive. The tree was decorated and it sparkled silver and red, reflecting the light of the candles they’d lit and placed around the room. All the decorations were tasteful. No gaudy tinsel here.
Yet a bit of her felt nostalgic for her tacky childhood Christmases. Mum would be bustling around at home now wearing her special Christmas apron, listening to carols on the radio and making mince pies. The house would be adorned with decorations they’d had for twenty or more years, including the angel Amy had made when she was six.
Amy grabbed her unfinished hot chocolate and gulped it down, trying hard to focus on all the skiing she’d be able to do this winter. Not to mention the parties. She’d be able to keep busy, so busy she wouldn’t have to think.
“Could you go and check the cakes?” Tash asked, standing in her socks on the back of a dark leather chair and fastening what looked suspiciously like mistletoe to one of the beams. The pink streaks in her hair looked pretty cool in the candlelight. She’d been experimenting again.
“Okay.” Amy turned back round again to go to the kitchen. “You know, I’m pretty sure Holly didn’t ask for mistletoe.”
“You’ve got to make your own opportunities girl. You have so much to learn.” Tash called out after her.
Hmm, maybe I should. It might be nice to meet someone.
Amy mentally pulled down the shutters on the past. It was time to move on; maybe a guy could help her do that?
As she pulled the trays from the oven she heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel outside, followed by voices. She quickly turned the first cake out onto a wire tray to cool and had picked up the second when the group spilled chaotically from the hallway into the kitchen.
“That smells amazing! I’m bloody starving, the food on the plane was crap.” A large man with a thatch of blonde hair, the build of a rugby player and the face of an eager puppy advanced towards her, hand outstretched as though to grab the cake, tray and all.
The kitchen was so chaotic she couldn’t properly scan the group for Josh.
She caught Holly’s eye and Holly shrugged apologetically, surreptitiously raising her eyes to the ceiling.
“If you could all come this way there’s a welcome drink for you by the fire,” Holly announced to the group, attempting to shepherd them away from the kitchen. At the word ‘drink’ they instantly obeyed. “Amy will bring the cakes through once they’ve cooled.”
Amy anxiously trailed her gaze over every member of the group as the kitchen emptied. Even though, deep down, she was expecting Josh, it was still a shock when he turned to face her. She met his eyes – dark eyes the colour of bitter coffee, fixed on her, mirroring her shock. His mouth opened as though he were going to speak but he abruptly closed it again.
He was just the same, but not, somehow. A little broader in the chest perhaps, his complexion tanned and sun-kissed, his dark hair cropped closer to his head than she was used to. Stubble on his face too.
But still him. Oh God, it was still Josh.
The second cake tin slipped out of her hand and crashed to the slate floor taking the oven mitt with it. It landed cake-side down. She scrambled down onto the floor to grab it, glad of an excuse not to have to speak to Josh, not to have to look. Stupidly, not thinking, she grabbed the tin with her now bare hand and cursed when it burnt her hand in the process.
“Ow, shit…shhhugar,” she squeaked, catching Holly’s eye and putting her hand to her mouth, her own eyes widening in horror. “Sorry, I’m so sorry.”
She kept her eyes on the broken cake on the tiles, not daring to lock eyes with Josh again. She felt…she wasn’t sure.
Overwhelmed might just about cover it.
