Home. It’s weird how home will always be Mom and Dad’s house—but now… my apartment is all I have.
Stop dwelling in the past!I tell myself, forcing my attention back on the road.
Snow falls heavily, and I cluck my tongue.
"Of course it's snowing! It's December,” I berate myself and squint through the snow-dusted windshield—except this isn't the light dusting the weather app promised. This is coming down fast, falling as thick flakes that mean business. My chest aches with the familiar weight of anxiety I always get when I’m driving, but I breathe through it.
I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve driven in snow.
My phone buzzes in the cupholder, distracting me. Beth's name flashes on the screen, but there's no signal to answer. The last bar disappears as I round another curve.
I’ll call her back soon.
While navigating the winding road, I hum under my breath, the same way I have every December since I could carry a tune, and even at twenty-eight, that hasn’t changed. The wrapped sweater I hastily picked up for Red, which currently sits on the passenger seat, shifts with each turn. He probably doesn’t have a Christmas one, and it’s freezing up here in the mountains. I went for an extra-large, because, you know, mountain men aren’t usually small.
The heating in the car is practically non-existent, and the Santa dress Beth gave me is shorter than I’d like. I hope I don’t give the poor man a heart attack. I even have candy cane striped socks! It is a cute outfit; I must admit. The little Santa coat that came with it has huge fur cuffs, and I love the feeling of it against my chilly skin.
I’m still humming when I spot a cabin in the distance. Smoke puffs from the chimney, and I grin, happy that the man is warm at least.
I’ve decided I’ll sing “Jingle Bells” to him, because it always cheers me up on a sad day. Plus, it’s easy to remember, and everyone knows it, right?
I pull over as the car shudders to a stop, and I thank the heavens that I got here in one piece while simultaneously trying not to think about getting home. I’ll crossthatbridge when it comes to it.
Cutting the engine, I eye the wrapped goodies, secured with a bright red bow.
Lovely.
I climb over the center console, carefully avoiding the gifts—not an easy feat at my size—then push the passenger door open and wince when I’m hit with a blast of cold air.
The air is sharper up in the mountains, and it steals my breath.Damn, it’s cold!Santa must have a fur-lined coat, not a cheap deal from Sal’s Store.
I try not to slip in my silver pumps as they slide over the fresh snow, holding onto the car as I make my way around it to the cabin.
“Keep it steady, Cookie,” I tell myself, my tongue pressing into the corner of my lips as I try to keep my balance. Somehow, I manage to keep hold of the wrapped box and straighten the Santa hat that’s fighting the elements to stay on my head. “Come on. Make Santa proud.”
But what if this guy likes being alone?
I shake my head, pushing away the thought as I practically skate to the door of the cabin, goose bumps covering my skin. Gritting my teeth, I remind myself I’m doing this for the veteran inside, before lifting my frozen fingers into a fist to knock.
Taking a deep breath and fixing a wide smile on my cherry-red lips, I knock, half-expecting Beth’s grumpy uncle to bark at me before I even see his face. But underneath my forced cheer, there's a flutter of something else—curiosity, perhaps, about the man who chooses solitude over family, or maybe a strange hope that behind this door is someone who might understand what it's like to face the holidays alone.
Standing there, I pray the door opens before my nipples freeze clean off.
Chapter Two
RED
DAY 1 ~ CHRISTMAS EVE PM
Late afternoon light spills through the windows. I lose my fingers in Bear's coarse fur, nearly dozing, when I hear the low rumble of a car engine approaching the cabin. I know it’s coming to my cabin because no one else lives up on this godforsaken mountain, so whoever it is has no damn business being up here.
Tourists, I bet ya.
I rise from my warm seat by the roaring fire, cursing whoever has disturbed me and Bear. After a day of hunting, we’ve earned our rest. I peer through the curtains to see a rust bucket of a car parked across from my cabin, and a curvy ass bent over the passenger side, red velvet stretched tight across it.
Christ.
“What the hell?” I rub my eyes to make sure I’m seeing what IthinkI’m seeing.
