Page 4 of Mistletoe Mischief

Dear Ryler,

Please, call me Pike. It’s not surprising that you haven’t heard of Mistletoe, as we’re a relatively small town tucked back in the mountains above Fairfield. Most people pass through for a few hours and move on.

I’ve confirmed your adventures. Please let me know if the dates attached work for you and if I can be of any other assistance to you. I’m happy to give your group a tour when you arrive and tell you all the secrets about the area. By the way, you’re definitely going to want to try Lord of the Fries while you’re here. Best food in town.

I realize that sometimes the shallow pools look orange, but I’ll be taking you to one like this. (I’m attaching a photo.)

Sincerely,

Pike

He scrolled through his phone for a picture, and although it had him and his friend group shirtless, Pike sent it. Hopefully the guy didn’t think anything of it.

The bell above the door rang, and Pike put down his phone, his smile genuine as he greeted them. Pike was riding such a high, there was nothing in the world that could bring him down.

Chapter Two

The sand under Ryler Colby’s feet disappeared as the ocean drew away, readying for another wave to build up and crash against the shore. It was a beautiful morning in Bali, with the sun hovering over the oceanic horizon, a brilliant beacon of light amid the light peach, lavender, and yellow sunrise that rose from the water and bled into the dark blue sky, which still sparkled with a few stars.

It was paradise, and yet Ryler was restless to move on.

Removing her phone from the pocket of her yoga pants, she snapped an Instagram-worthy photo of the sunrise before putting it away. She stepped back out of the reach of the incoming waves and made her way along the sandy trail to the bungalow she’d been staying in for the better part of a week. The lush greenery hid the rental from view until she crested the hill, the trees giving way to the spectacular view of the beach below.

Maybe it was the Hallmark movies she’d been binging since the plane ride from Aruba, but with Thanksgiving only a few days away, Ryler couldn’t help thinking there should be a slight nip in the air at least. Instead, she was sweating already, and it was only six thirty in the morning.

Which was why seeing @PikenAround’s comment on her post fifteen minutes before the contest ended last night seemed like kismet. She’d been curled up in bed unable to sleep, when her alarm went off at midnight, reminding her to choose a winner. She’d happened to see Pike’s comment, since he was the last one to enter, and curious about the town’s name, had googled pictures. It was the perfect winter retreat and a break from all the sunshine and sand. She’d reached out to him and immediately started booking their travel. She hadn’t told the rest of the crew yet, as they’d been out last night having fun. While she didn’t imagine any trouble from Kit or Neil, her cousin, Alia, would be another story.

Ryler unlocked the front door and stepped inside the quiet home. Alia would sleep until the afternoon if Ryler let her, but they needed to be out the door and at the airport by one p.m. Everyone was used to a spontaneous schedule, so Ryler wasn’t worried about it.

Ryler’s room was the only one upstairs, while the other three bedrooms were downstairs. She’d skipped the team-building over tequila in favor of dinner and dessert in bed, wrapped up in a streaming romance between a wine maker and a distributer. The cozy movie was set among hills of gorgeous fall foliage, and a pang settled in her stomach as Ryler remembered the smell of her parents’ kitchen at the holidays. The sweet aroma of apples and cinnamon wafted around her as her mother hummed Christmas carols and her dad stood on the back porch with her uncles, drinking beer as the turkey fried.

Ryler opened the fridge with a shake of her head. It had been a long time since she’d thought of those memories. Why was she suddenly so nostalgic?

She pulled out some fresh fruit, washing and peeling the items before cutting up an array into a bowl. Ryler carried her snack into her bedroom and onto the balcony, where she took a seat on the simple metal chair. She settled the bowl into her lap and poked the colorful fruit salad with her fork absently as she opened up Instagram. She saw the message from @PikenAround and looked at the picture he’d attached of him and a few friends sitting in a blue-green pool of water with green grass and spring flowers surrounding them. In the distance was a craggy, snowcapped peak.

Ryler shot back a message. Now that is the kind of hot springs I’d be down for.

Someone knocked on her door, and Ryler glanced up from her cell and called out, “Come on in.”

Neil poked his head in, tsking. “You’re really just letting anyone into your bedroom without asking who it is?”

“I was hoping for Dylan Wang, but I guess you’ll do.”

“Ain’t you sweet,” he said, coming inside with a paper bag in his hand and closing the door behind him. Neil was her best friend and producer. Although they’d dated for a hot minute in college, they’d realized early on they were better off as friends. When they had graduated six years ago, Ryler took her communications major and launched Excursions, her travel podcast, with Neil by her side. They’d started small, driving around the country in a secondhand camper, visiting obscure and commercial locations, posting pictures of landscapes, local cuisine, and events. It had been a simpler time, and sometimes she missed it.

“I went out to get breakfast,” Neil said, setting the bag on the corner table by the window and launching himself across her bed, his dark skin and shirt standing out against the white comforter. “And how are you this fine morning?”

“I’m great. I went for a walk.” She waved her hand to the plate of fruit on her nightstand. “Ate some fruit. Booked our next destination.”

Neil grabbed the half-eaten fruit bowl off her side table and took a bite. “Where to?”

“There’s this little town in Idaho called Mistletoe. It’s in the mountains, and they have all these Christmas traditions!” Ryler leaned over, handing him her phone. “Check them out. I got us this beautiful four-bedroom log cabin in the woods that will be perfect for privacy.”

Neil nodded. “Looks awesome. Alia is going to hate everything about it.” Neil got up from the bed and cocked a hip, pouting his full bottom lip and mimicking in a high voice, “Why would you cover all this up?”

He waved a hand over his length, and Ryler grimaced. He was right. Alia opted for tropical destinations every time, but Ryler was burnt out. The only reason she’d picked Bali was because an old friend from college had invited her to visit. It was nice to catch up, but damn, she was ready for a change.

“I know, but she will get over it. Mistletoe will be the perfect place to wrap up the podcast before the holidays. Give us a couple weeks to pick our New Year’s destination.”