Page 2 of Winter Wishlist
“There might be a special keys in the bowl party for Christmas? A couple looking to add a little Mia-shaped packageto their festive menu? Wear something that makes your tits look fantastic. That green dress is killer, one swish of your hips and you’ll have them crawling through the horse stalls panting after you.”
I huff, blowing some loose strands of hair out of my eyes. “Not funny. I’m uninterested in anything or anyone who has complications attached. Can we focus on the more important details? Like the fact I’m going to have to fly solo for the next few days, and I can’t even take my ass back home if I wanted to.”
No, I’m stuck here. Even if I turned around right now, I can’t retreat home to hide away surrounded by my beloved stack of books. I’m effectively evicted for the next three days, all thanks to my landlord decidingChristmaswas the optimal time to spend repairing the busted furnace.
“We’re supposed to be sipping hot chocolate, ice skating, and going on horse sleigh rides, all while confusing everyone about our status as a lesbian throuple. You promised to fold me into your marriage for Christmas, so I didn’t have to be the lonely orphan.” I pout.
That’s me. Forever on my own. Hit in the ass with a cursed cupid’s arrow.
Beingmedoesn’t seem to hold anyone’s interest, I fear. Twenty-four and here I am, still languishing somewhere in the bounds of being stuck texting morons who only discover their phone exists after ten p.m. at night, or spending far too many hours pining after pretty girls on the internet, all of whom I’m too painfully shy to reach out to.
Or, as it transpires, in more recent times, to make thestupidestofstupidly stupiddecisions.
A shudder rolls straight down my spine, which has nothing to do with the below-freezing temperatures outside my car. I have a type, and it’s called: finds everyone but me fascinating.
“Where are you now?” Keri’s words are accompanied by rustling and crunching as she chomps her forever love over and above anything in this world. I don’t need to see to know she’s snacking on corn chips and guac.
“Just arrived in Mistwood Falls. I’m gonna wander the town for a little bit.” Glancing around, I like the vibe. It’s kinda cute and artsy here. Everything screams handmade, bespoke, and like you could know the entire population of this place by first name after a single day. There are even hanging metal signs outside each storefront, all matching perfectly—clearly custom-designed and fabricated for each business—so they all have a synchronous rustic feel going on.
Keri hums to herself, then begins reading out the itinerary provided by the ranch for guests who are booked to stay during the holidays.
“Let’s see… what have you got to look forward to this evening?Four p.m.… mulled wine and a Christmas photo booth in the homestead.”
Yup. I can already hear the questions and feel the stares if I walked into that solo.
“Five thirty… supper.”
I’d rather scoop my eyeballs out with a rusty spoon.
“Six p.m.… ax-throwing. Oooh, maybe you could practice your aim, while imagining your ex’s face?”
That sounds all too tempting.
“Nothing screams,Merry Christmas, you cheating, lying scumbag, like an ax embedded in the chest.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I say dryly.
“Don’t forget about the ‘Snowy sunrise breakfast buffet.’”
I grimace. “That sounds horrible. Table for one? No thanks.” This place might be tiny, but it must surely have at least one cafe option where I can consume my body weight in waffles, syrup, and half-decent coffee.
“Alright, well, I’m officially sending you on a mission to go hunt down a single and willing-to-mingle Christmas snow bunny. Scour that tiny little mountain town from top to bottom, Mia. And then casually over a coffee, or a hot cider, enquire if they’d quite like tobottom.”
“KATHERINE.” My scolding does no good. She’s semi-delirious on painkillers and giggles into the phone.
“We all know Mia’s just gonna go all hermit crab and hide in the nearest bookstore,” Sasha calls me out. Those damn head-chef observation skills are her superpower.
I make an unimpressed squawk of protest, but she’s absolutely right. From my parking spot, I can see the outline of a stack of books decorating the metalwork sign only fifty feet or so away.
“Books have never let me down.” With a huff, I start to stuff everything into my handbag. No way am I leaving this gargantuan strap-on and assorted kinky toys on the seat for any passerby to get nosy and look in on. Knowing my luck, I’d arrive back at my car to be promptly surrounded by the entire town serving disapproving judgmental glares—maybe even with their pitchforks at the ready—along with a trespass order against setting foot in this isolated little mountain village ever again.
“Text us once you get settled in,” Sasha hollers, being the practical one.
“Love you. Remember to keep your eyes peeled for holiday fling material,” Keri mumbles, sounding more groggy now.
“Love you, too.” I let out a wry laugh as I get out of my car and slam the door with my hip, using all my weight. Putting in that extra bit of effort that it requires to properly shut on the first try.
“Wait, wait… Don’t forget to wear the green dress tonight and shove your ta tas in someone’s face.You’re a sexy bitchhh,” she slurs a little more.
