“So, it’s his fault?”
“Exactly.” I shrugged. “He’ll probably be annoyed to see me.”
Lydia’s voice softened. “Or maybe he’ll just be happy to see you.”
I shot her a look. “Don’t you dare go soft on me now. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side,” she said. “I just happen to think your side includes a very handsome bartender.”
Which was inconvenient. Especially when your best friend was marrying his brother.
I groaned. “Remind me why I agreed to this road trip?”
“Because you love me,” she said, smug as ever. “And because you promised you’d help me finish the decorations for the Christmas festival.”
Right. The festival. The one where I’d have to spend hours surrounded by mistletoe, fairy lights, and the living embodiment of bad decisions in flannel.
I was doomed.
Traffic on the highway thinned as we left the city behind. The radio crackled with more Christmas music, and Lydia hummed along, happy and unbothered.
I, meanwhile, was silently compiling a list of strategies for avoiding Drew Benedict for the entire weekend.
Step one: don’t go to the bar.
Step two: if you must go to the bar, wear emotional armor and possibly a turtleneck.
Step three: resist all urges to remember what his hands felt like—
“Melanie?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re blushing again.”
I groaned. “I despise you.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, smiling that soft, peaceful Reckless River smile. “You just need a little holiday magic.”
“Holiday magic is for people who don’t have unresolved sexual tension with their best friend’s future brother-in-law.”
She just laughed and turned up the radio.
As the first flakes of snow began to fall against the windshield, I exhaled a long, resigned breath.
I could handle a weekend in Reckless River.
I could handle the small-town charm, the relentless cheer, and even the endless stream of Mariah Carey songs.
But Drew Benedict?
That was another story entirely.
And something told me deep in the pit of my glitter-stained, eggnog-fueled soul—that story wasn’t over yet.
Chapter Two
Drew
