Page 7 of Snowed in with My Pucking Ex
“Of course. You know how we do the holidays around here. It’s neverjustthe food.”
I nearly groan out loud, but manage to hold myself back.
Grams is silently laughing to herself over in the chair, and I’d bet the old bat knows way too much for her own good, just like my mother. She’s tickled plum pink to see me squirm in place, silently stewing over the latest development. I’m sure thisis playing right into thehero imageshe has of Sean. The man can play some good hockey, but it certainly doesn’t make him a God or anything. It’s not like he’s out here scaling trees to save kittens or anything. Everyone in the village can skate at least a little bit, and Grams needs to remember as much. Next thing I know, she’ll be trying to schedule dates for us to meet up, and I’m trying to stay as far away as possible from the Pines’ number eleven.
I watch as Gram gets up and helps herself to another glass of eggnog. She sprinkles some cinnamon on top like she’s here for the flavor and not the half a bottle of booze I’d bet my right boob on that she’s spiked it with. I’ll have to start my morning out with a glass on Thanksgiving; maybe it’ll make the day go by smoothly. It’ll be fuzzier, of that I’m sure of.
“Does anyone have a holly jolly Xanax we can spike the turkey with?” I ask, smirking as Gram cackles. Pop mutters something to himself, while Dad quietly chuckles with amusement. Mom ignores my comment completely, busying herself with putting another log on the fire.
“Did Samantha get to come home for Thanksgiving?” She asks, not paying attention to my current displeased frown as I think over my ex joining us for the holiday, and how I’d prefer to wear my stretchy pants and a loose shirt for turkey day whenever possible. It’s the one time of the year we make it a sport of gorging ourselves and then chilling on the couch, and now I’m going to be stuck in dressy clothes for the day while being acutely aware of his proximity for the entire time.
Not good. I wonder if I can get him to cancel? Maybe puncture a tire on his snazzy truck?
“Winter?” She says my name, noticing I’d momentarily tuned out.
I try to think of what I missed and realize she’s talking about Sam. My best friend since the first day we were in kindergarten,when Martin Mckindly said he didn’t want me to sit by him, and Samantha loudly claimed I was sitting beside her for the entire year instead.Instant best friends.
“No, her husband had to work. She’ll get to come for Christmas, though.” And I absolutely can’t wait. I miss her too much. She’s got these two adorable kids and the nicest husband. I was her maid of honor when she married him, and I’ve never seen her happier. I just wish we lived closer to each other like we did growing up. Her mom’s house is a quick fifteen-minute walk from here, a trail we used growing up, more times than I can count.
“Alright. Now that the fuss is all over, we’re heading home. Winter can take it from here; we’re calling it an early night.” Pop declares, setting the paper down while getting to his feet. He and Gram live on the property, about a ten-minute walk or so from here.
I hug them both at the door on their way out, while promising I’ll check on the animals before bed for Dad.
Facing my parents once the room is quiet, aside from the random crackle and pop from the large fireplace, I ask, “So, what’s the plan for the festival?”
Mom glances away, suddenly having nothing to add, all the while Dad looks like a deer caught in headlights. He finally admits, “About the festival, it’s too much work. I’m sorry, Winter, but I can’t ask that of your grandparents, and Mom has her patients she’s busy with. I couldn’t get things started like I’d planned once I was injured.”
Tears crest and quickly fall over my cheeks, making the room grow blurry. I was right, I should’ve been here. If I had only taken a job closer to home, then this possibly never would’ve happened, and if it had, at least I would’ve been able to come and go without hours of distance between us. In the past, we’d always start prepping what we could on November first. I’mtwenty-six days late already, and I still have to help around the farm, so it’s not as if I can dedicate all my time to getting everything ready.
Not gonna lie, I’m feeling a bit hopeless about having enough time to be able to pull this off. I can’t ask anyone around town like we normally would be able to, because they’re all prepping for the holidays too. Rather than spiral in silence, I spend the evening catching up with my parents and making the rounds around our farm, checking on all the animals.
Eventually, I climb into bed, exhausted from the day, and drift off into a restless sleep.
Chapter Five
Winter
I’m hurrying out of the Tasty Sip the next morning, hands full with large red and green cups of cappuccino, since they’ve already run out of their seasonal fall-colored cups. One’s vanilla-flavored and topped with homemade whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and a cinnamon stick that I can’t wait to try. The other’s my favorite chocolate peppermint cappuccino topped with whipped cream, crushed candy canes, and holiday spirit. I also have a bag tucked under my arm filled with two cherry turnovers, but my Dad and I will have to eat them and hide the evidence before Gram catches sight of the sugary goodness, or we’ll never hear the end of it. We all know her turnovers are the best in town; however, we also know she only makes them for special occasions, and we have to get our sweet pastry fix somehow.
I had to get over here first thing for my caffeine and sugar fix. I especially needed it after last night. I tossed and turned all night, dozing off only to wake up a million times. I kept having these crazy dreams. The first one was of a certain hockey player who will not be named. Anyway, he was following me around as I decorated trees, busily taking all the ornaments off behind me. When I confronted him about it, he’d smile and tell me I was on the naughty list with him. Then, in another dream, I was at the festival, but my booth was empty, and everyone kept walking by pointing and laughing at me.
Needless to say, I woke up a frazzled mess. I immediately took a hot shower and found my most fall-ish outfit. My sweater is beige, warm, and soft, which I expertly paired with some olive-colored jeans that have a lot of stretch in them. I added an olive, navy, and beige scarf to pull the colors together, along with my camel boots that’re trimmed in light fur that also match my coat. If I were in the city, I’d look like everyone else my age. Here, I’m a touch more on the fashion-chic side and at least appear like Ihave my life together when today it feels like it may be falling apart unless I can somehow pull everything off that I need to.
My back is to the shop’s door as I use it to shove the glass door open and make my way out into the crisp, chilly air. Winter has hit Noel Falls just in time for Thanksgiving, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that it wasn’t a random snowfall hitting early. Nope, I’d wager it’s here to stay. I’m nodding to myself, eager to take a sip of my delicious hot beverage, when I venture onto the sidewalk without looking first and run smack into a wide, hard chest.
My drinks smoosh and spill all over said chest, and I instantly jump back. “Oh my God! I’msosorry,” I’m already apologizing before I glance up. Only to look straight into the eyes of my ex, Mr. GQ, himself.
I sigh, feeling the cold air kiss my skin everywhere the hot beverages have trailed over my hands. “No, no, no, this isn’t happening,” I mutter as I shake my head in denial.
Where’s a boulder to crawl under when I need one? How is it that every time I see this guy, my life looks like it’s a complete mess? “I’ll buy you a new shirt, I swear.OhmyGod, are you okay?” I continue to ramble, mortified, and silently praying I didn’t just give the local hockey hero third-degree burns that the town will shun me for.
“I’m okay. The cold out here, along with my jacket, is helping to take the brunt of it.” His hands are holding my wrists, and I can’t help but glance down at how big they seem while wrapped around my wrists as he holds me in place. It’s almost as if he were going to be the one to catch me if I had fallen. Of course, he was. Local hometown hero, remember? I should expect nothing less.
I don’t appreciate how responsive my body is to him in this proximity either. Not only is he handsome, but now I know he tastes like my favorite beverage, too. You know, if I were to tastehim, that is. Gah, I can’t believe I just went there when he’s covered in liquid sugar.
“I’ll get your jacket cleaned. I truly am sorry.” I promise, while moving out of his hold and over to the nearest trash can by the entrance of Tasty Sip. With a frown firmly in place, I dump the empty cups, lids, and ruined turnovers, silently pouting that they were the last two available this morning. I shouldn’t be mourning the pastries right now; it’s neither the time nor the place, but I can’t help it as my stomach loudly grumbles with hunger.
He smirks at the sound, his gaze playful. He makes it a point to inhale deeply before commenting, “By the smell, I’d guess you still have the same favorite? Large chocolate peppermint cappuccino topped with whipped cream and crushed candy canes?”
