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CHAPTER1
ASHTON
“Fa-la-la-la-la. La-la-la-la!”I belt out the familiar holiday tune at the top of my lungs as I round the curve into Spruce Ridge, the idyllic ski resort town I’m visiting for one blissful week.
Work-free.
Kid-free.
Drama-free.
#bliss.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. Adore them, in fact. But mama needs a break every once in a while. This single mom gig is tough, especially when I can never —and I do mean never— count on my ex.
The only reason I’m even getting this break is because Gabriel, the unfortunate ex, wants to trot the kids out in front of his new girlfriend. Probably to seem more grounded and give the impression he’s a wonderful, doting dad.
Which, to be clear, he is not.
But who am I to argue with a week off, especially during the busy holiday season? Gives me more time to shop, bake Christmas cookies, and watch romantic holiday movies. I planned on staying home, but then my best friend, Stella, and my brother, Wes, gifted me this trip. A combo Christmas and maid of honor gift for their upcoming wedding and I couldn’t say no.
Sliding into a vacant parking spot, I cut the ignition and grab my purse, then head into the general store for a few groceries. From the map, it looks like my rental is a decent way up the mountain, so I probably need at least a few things to eat, maybe a bottle of wine.
“Howdy!” A white-haired man with a bushy matching beard waves at me from behind a log counter and I wave back.
“Hi!”
“You need any help, gimme a holler.”
I nod and pick up a plastic shopping basket. “Will do.”
Instrumental Christmas music hums in the background as I wind my way through the tiny, rustic store. Grabbing the essentials from the wooden shelves —crackers, chocolate, coffee, chardonnay— I head over to the refrigerated section in the back. I wedge cheese, eggs, and creamer in, my biceps straining under the growing weight of the basket.
I should have snagged a cart instead.
Hustling over to the freezer section, I balance the basket on the crook of my left arm and throw open the icy door in search of a frozen pizza. My hand shoots out to grab the last cheese pizza and pull it from the shelf, but meets resistance.
“Hey!” I pop my head around the frosted door, tugging at the cardboard box.
“Hey, yourself.” A gruff voice shocks me back to reality. A tall, broad man in a suit and tie, of all things, scowls down at me, his fingers curled around the pizza box.
“I had that pizza. Sir,” I add for good measure. This guy looks like he’s used to being calledsir, with those shiny dress shoes and that starched pinstriped shirt.
“No. I did. And it’s the last one. Normally, I’d let you have it, but my food options are limited here and the grocery delivery my assistant placed earlier got cancelled on account of the weather.” His dark brows squish together, deep furrow lines etching his forehead.
Dude’s really worried about this pizza.
“Well, normally I’d let you have it, but I’m not sure what my accommodations are going to be like. You see, it’s a vacation rental, and I don’t know how many pots and pans and things I’ll have. So…” I bat my eyelashes at him, thinking surely that will do the trick, but he doesn’t budge. Not even a fraction of an inch.
“I understand. Maybe you could get a lasagna instead?” He tips his head at a lone silver tray of frozen pasta, long icicles hanging from the metal edge.
“Uh-uh. No thanks, I’ll pass. But you’re welcome to it. Because, you know, I had this pizza first.” I wrap my fingers tighter around the red box, tugging it toward me. But the stubborn suit isn’t giving in.
“Technically, I had it first. Because my hand’s on top.” He nods at the box, his knuckles white from gripping so tight.
“On the right side. But my fingers are on top on the left.”
He frowns, his lips pressing together in a thin line as the frigid air from the freezer blows around us.
