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The bedroom is tight with a king-sized mattress taking up most of the room. But a large bay window with a built-in seat and breathtaking mountain view more than makes up for the lack of space. Though I’ve never lived anywhere with less than a hundred thousand people, I can see the appeal of this remote cabin. I could live here…
The only thing missing is a big, burly mountain man to ravage me.
I can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that fantasy. “If only…”
I continue my search and finally locate the crawlspace entrance inside a coat closet. Braving my fear of spiders—they should all be dead this time of year, right?—I drop into the storage area below the main cabin and gasp.
Dozens of totes surround me. All of them labeled Christmas decorations. Maybe Christmas didn’t explode when I first walked in. But before the day is over, it will.
Best. Christmas. Ever!
2
JAKE
It’s after midnight when my truck finally completes the trek up the mountain to my cabin, but I fucking made it.
The outline of the driveway is faint at best under the six inches of snow that’s fallen since my oldest sister sent a plow truck out this way. One that refuses to come back until the incoming storm has blown past. A full moon peeks behind the quilted cloud cover, casting a soft glow onto my cabin. All the tension I’ve been gripping like a lifeline eases with that one image.
This year, I’m doing Christmas my way.
Quiet and alone.
With any luck, I’ll sleep right through the damn holiday.
I check my phone to make sure there’s not a single bar trying like hell to give me signal I don’t want. I’ve had enough of Mom crying, my little sister laying on a heavy guilt trip, and my grandma muttering about my secret, totally non-existent, holiday rendezvous. I can still hear her hollering as I backed out of her driveway.
Why can’t you just bring the girl home?
The only one not giving me shit for my plans this year is my sister, Kristi. I’m too tired to try and figure out why.
Grabbing my duffle bag from the back seat, I push open the truck door and trudge through the snow-covered path.
Before I can reach the front porch, I notice an eerie pink glow coming from the side of the house. “No fucking way,” I grumble, marching my unhappy ass around to confront my worst fear.
A fucking Christmas tree.
I should’ve known my sister would arrange some shit like this. I put her in charge of renting out the cabin when I’m not using it. If she can arrange for snow plows and cleaners, a decorator isn’t out of the question.
I scrub a hand over my face, groaning into the silence.
For years, I’ve suffered through my family’s love of Christmas. Seems I’m the only one who remembers Dad promising to come home in time for the holidays and never showing. The only one in our family who associates this dreaded holiday with disappointment. Just this once, I want to be far away from any and all reminders.
But instead, a giant ass tree mocks me from the living room window. Each twinkling light irritating my tired eyes.
I’m too exhausted to deal with this tonight.
Rounding the cabin, I unlock the front door. The moment I step inside, it’s as if Christmas fucking exploded.
Garland hangs from every conceivable surface, including the top of the couch. I nearly trip over a three-foot tall reindeer positioned beside the door. In the pitiful struggle to keep my balance, I drop my duffle bag. It makes a loud thud against the wood floor the same moment my toe comes into contact with a giant nutcracker. “The fuck—”
“Don’t move!” a female voice screams.
“What the—”
“I said don’t move.”
Thanks to the blinding glow of Christmas lights, I spot the woman standing in my bedroom doorway with ease. Her legs are bare beneath the oversized t-shirt. Legs that make my sleepy dick twitch to life. But it’s the fireplace poker raised like a baseball bat that should have my attention. The damn thing is made of iron and could do some damage if she chooses to swing. I’m not in the mood to repair gouges in the wall.
