Page 21 of Christmas in Bridger Falls

Samantha Chase. I love her small-town romance books. I’ve read or listened to almost everything she’s written.

Actually, I’m seriously considering her work for the television project I’ve been developing. It’s a cross between June Jule’s Budgie Bay and any of Samantha Chase’s series. Both of their stories are exactly what viewers love. Samantha has already had books adapted successfully, which makes me think both of these are top-tier options.

The narrator’s voice fills the car as snow lightly covers the windshield while I drive. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel rushed. I feel calm and relaxed. In the moment. And that’s something I’ve missed.

I stop at a coffee shop outside Idaho Falls to fill up my car, take care of business, and get a coffee. I still have a ways to go and need a warm, cozy beverage.

“What can I get for you?” the barista asks with a smile, a Santa hat on her head.

“A peppermint mocha.” The words come out automatically.

I pause, realizing this would never be my coffee order back in L.A. But now it’s Christmas, and I’m in the mountains. I need all the cozy vibes, and this is it. It makes me happy, I realize.

When did I stop being happy? When did I start living like a robot, going through life like every day didn’t matter? I don’t know, but this is where it stops. I want to be happy.

The barista slides a cardboard sleeve on it and hands it to me.

I thank her and slide cash into her tip jar. I smile as I head out, recognizing that one night with a cowboy and suddenly I’m a Hallmark character. And I don’t hate it.

My phone rings with a FaceTime call.

Cami.

I answer. “Hey.”

There’s a pause as she watches me smiling at her, a holiday-themed stocking cap on my head that I picked up while shopping today.

“Hey! I can’t wait to see you! Let’s talk about last night and your date with the guy whose license I’m not supposed to share with you under any circumstances.” She smirks.

I forgot she had his real name. And address. I want to ask her for it, but I think about how Beau didn’t seem to want to share. If he did, he would have given me his information in the first place. If I contact him, I’ll seem like a stalker weirdo.

Cami watches me suspiciously. “Wait. Did you get laid?”

The peppermint mocha nearly comes out of my nose as I quickly say, “No.”

“You did.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Jenna.”

I groan. “How do you know that?”

“You’re wearing a ridiculous hat, drinking a holiday beverage, and grinning. Who are you and what did you do with my favorite black cat Grinch friend who loathes Christmas and everything it represents?”

I immediately stop grinning. “So what? Wearing a hat doesn’t mean anything.”

“You look ridiculously happy.”

“I’m not happy,” I argue. Even though I have no idea why I’m denying this. It’s a new feeling, and I’m just getting used to it.

“What are you drinking?”

I glance down and mutter, “Peppermint mocha.”