"I know this neat little coffee house in town," Skip said. "I could pick you up, say, tomorrow? Does tomorrow work for you? Would late afternoon be okay? I have work until one ..."

While his mouth was moving at a hundred miles a minute, my brain had positively stalled. It was like it was trying to grab onto the overlapping verbiage as it shot from his lips, but like it didn't quite know how to process it all. Instead, I became increasingly aware that all I was doing was gawking back at him silently, probably just as stunned as a deer caught in headlights.

A picturesque mountaintop. A handsome, small-town stranger. A quaint little coffee house in a quaint little town.

It was all very Hallmark, and it sounded like a dream.

Standing in that room with Skip, illuminated by the golden flecks of fleeting light that streamed in through the tall, glassy panes, it felt like the universe was finally opening up to me. Like it was giving me a chance to seek out the new beginning I craved, to fly high above its wintry peaks now that I felt totally free. After all, that road trip turned out to be just as much about my journey towards healing as about Christmas itself. I got closure with Lola and Holly. I'd forgiven and forgotten Eli. I'd forgiven my dad for leaving the way he did, and I was even patching things up with David and my mother.

When I looked in the rear-view mirror, I could see the twists and turns that I'd endured over the last couple of months. And when I looked to the winding road ahead, I could see myself going into the new year feeling truly free.

Maybe a new man was exactly what the new me needed.

At the very least, a holiday romance certainly couldn't hurt.

"You're a great guy, Skip," I cooed softly.

He noticed the change in my tone, his green eyes flashing as he lifted his chin with confidence. His squirming hands paused their skirmish, and for the first time since he'd turned to face me, his expression shed its nervous edge.

"Too great," I continued, indulging in a sigh. "I mean, you have a job, you have a dog, you have a truck ..." I paused dramatically, warring against that drop of sarcasm that latched itself onto my sultry tone. "And what do I have?"

He considered that for a moment, tilting his head sweetly. "You have one heck of an ass."

Unlike me, there wasn't even a hint of irony laced through his voice.

I don't think Skip even understood the meaning of irony.

Which meant that I could have some real fun.

"True," I mused, pursing my lips. I batted my lashes, too, trying to convey as much sincerity as I could muster.

Given the circumstances, it wasn't a lot.

"But you deserve so much more than that. You deserve a girl who knows the difference between a cultivator and a rotavator." He opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed a rogue finger to his lips. "We're just from two different worlds, Skip."

I'd hoped that I wouldn't have to do this. Pull a grand farewell Lost-in-Translation-style. But, still, I was sure that Skip and I were putting Bob and Charlotte to shame.

He began to mumble under my touch, and I tentatively removed my finger from his mouth. God, I really hoped that he took defeat lying down. Because if plan A didn't work, I didn't have a plan B.

But I did have one mean upper-cut.

After a second of silent contemplation, the sweet, dashing cowboy threw me a solid nod. "It's probably for the best. My marriage is hanging by a thread as it is."

I waited for the ball to drop. I waited for his trademark grin to tug at his features, for some sign that, like me, Skip's crutch in awkward situations was sarcasm—and of the incredibly inappropriate kind.

But that sign never came. And, like irony, I had a feeling that Skip was too plain a person for something as impish and immature as dry wit.

So, that was gross.

And also, very un-Hallmark like.

But who was I to judge? I had used him as a chauffeur and a bellhop in less than a five-hour-period.

I felt my cheeks burn as I turned away in a hurry, leading him out the door with plans to head back down to the foyer. I don't know why I was in such a rush; it wasn't like things could get more awkward.

At least, that's what I thought.

Because after rounding out of that solid wooden door, I crashed right into an incredibly amused James Bennet.

And if that insolent smirk on his chiseled face was any indication, James had—you guessed it—heard everything.

By the time we waved Skip off, the fiery sky had settled into the promise of night. Mellow lights flickered on in some of the neighboring chalets around us. My friends and I changed into something more winter-appropriate, and I found a spare five minutes to loosely curl the golden bangs around my face.

"Do you guys stay in the cabins every year?" I asked as we dashed across the snow, headed for the grand hotel that sat in the center.

"Every year," Dex confirmed, returning the wave of a maître d outside of a cozy, bustling restaurant. "Since we were—what, twelve?" James nodded behind him. "We used to stay at the hotel before that, but when Noah's family and my aunts and cousins started coming, it just made more sense to book out the cabins."

"Book them out?" I repeated incredulously. With Noah's eight brothers and sisters, I could understand why. But it was still one of the most outrageous things I thought I'd heard all day.

Dex waved a hand like it was nothing, nodding to a store owner packing up for the day. "Just the three-story ones by the Western peak."

No—that was the most outrageous thing I'd heard.

Ever.

I looked down to follow James' footsteps in the snow. As it turned out, none of my footwear was all that sleet-friendly. "Okay, wow. That must be expensive." I looked up again, just managing to catch my three friends exchanging a pointed look.

I took a deep breath, swallowing my pride with it. I bet it was expensive. I bet they were expecting me to cough up my fair share by now.

"Look, if—"

"Master Van Der Yates, the rumors are true." A doorman in a red and black suit stepped forward to greet us. He returned Dex's handshake while a broad grin tugged at his Nordic features. "There was a Derek sighting at the Derek cabin."

My friends laughed while yet another frown crinkled my brow.

I was one hundred percent going to need to invest in some Botox at the end of this trip.

"It's good to be back," Dex replied in a voice not quite his own. It was plummy and considered, sparkling like crystals and as crisp as the evening air.

It startled me slightly, but with a shake of my head, I reminded myself that it wasn't really out of character. I just wasn't used to seeing this particular side of my sweet, awkward friend. Because hanging out in our dorm rooms with cheap beer and pizza, or dancing at some grungy club downtown, it was easy to forget what he and my other two friends really were.

Rich.

Booking-out-the-cabins-by-the-Western-peak kind of rich.

Maybe they were nobility, after all.

A semblance of familiarity returned to Dex's face as we skipped through the timber and stone lobby, passing the crackling fireplace to hop in one of the elevators on the other side. James reached for Noah's backpack as the doors closed behind us, rummaging around for a second or two before pulling out four equally as outlandish sweaters. He handed me mine—the white woolen turtleneck. The mere sight of that gingerbread man bundled those familiar knots in my stomach.

"Do we have to put these on now?" I groaned. When I envisioned the outfit I'd wear to meet my friends' families, the goofy (albeit totally adorable) gingerbread sweater was not the first that sprung to mind.

Especially when those families were the kind of people to book out expensive cabins that were also, apparently, named after them. 

"Of course!" Noah exclaimed, throwing his green reindeer knit over his head. "The ugly sweater party is a whole thing. Our families get super into it."

"We won't be the only ones," James clarified a little more softly, addressing the true crux of my concern.

He was always doing that.

I flashed him a grateful smile as I peeled the sweater from his hand. But when my fingers found the garment, they also found his.

Room wasn't ample in that tiny, steel box. The four of us were practically pressed up against each other while we waited to be transported to the next floor. Trapped mere centimeters from his warm, sculpted frame, the two of us tied to one another in a moment that our other two friends didn't notice or understand, I knew that it would be all too easy to get pulled into that ice-blue gaze. To be manipulated by the hard and fast pulsing of my hopeful heart, or by the curved line of his lips that I wanted to believe meant that he felt what I felt, too.

I stuck my arms through the cream fabric and pulled it over my head, losing myself to the darkness for longer than necessary just to pull us out from whatever that was.

But when I emerged from the soft wool, my eyes crashed right back into his. Gentle. Lingering. Flipping my heart like being stuck with him in a car for days on end hadn't flipped it enough.

The elevator door pinged, and the moment was lost. His eyes flew from mine and out into the dark corridor. I stepped out behind him, straightening out the hair that my knitted jumper had ruffled. Taking a deep breath to command my mind and my body to behave.

"So, you don't just book out the cabins for Christmas," I thought aloud, turning to Dex with a feigned look of mischief that was perfect for a subject change. "One of them is named after you?" That is what the doorman had said—a Derek sighting at the Derek cabin.

Talk about rich.

Dex bowed his head sheepishly, but there was something other than embarrassment twinkling in his grass-green stare. "As I said, we've been coming here for a long time."

I scoffed in reply. I'd been going to my mother's country club for a long time, too, but it wasn't like I had a tennis court named after me. "Are your parents funding this place or something?"

I didn't get an answer. I only caught a glimpse of my friends' profiles as they exchanged yet another pointed look.

And, then, everything clicked.

"Holy shit," I exclaimed. I covered my mouth with my palm, but that didn't stop my jaw from hitting the floor.

Suddenly, everything came together. Suddenly, it all made sense. Why my friends came to the resort for Christmas every year. Why they booked out the cabins by the Western peak. Why the doorman knew Dex by name, why every store owner in town greeted him when he walked by ...

"Dex?" I managed to squeak. My voice was just loud enough to reach him before he ducked into the ballroom.

He turned slowly to peer back at me, his mouth set in a grimace while his expression dripped in guilt. I'd come to know Dex pretty well over the last couple of months. I could practically read his mind with a simple blink of his round, doe-eyes. So, when he turned to reluctantly meet my eye, his expression as tentative as a baby giraffe taking its first steps, it was all the confirmation I needed and more.

Still, I folded my arms. I raised an eyebrow.

"Dex," I repeated lowly, "do you ... own this place?"

"No!" my wide-eyed friend cried immediately, shaking his head as though he were shaking snow from the strands. But his protest weakened the longer that I stared, my eyes narrowing into dubious slits that soon paled his pink cheeks. Finally, he smiled weakly. "My parents own it."

Then, I was the one shaking my head fervently, wonder and awe threading my features.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" I asked.

He shrugged, scuffing his trainer on the polished tiles. "I don't know. It never came up, I guess. And it's kind of a weird thing to say, don't you think? 'Hey, my parents own a ski resort'." He crumpled his face like he'd swallowed out-of-date eggnog. "Gross."

"It's a lot of things, Dex. But I wouldn't say that it's weird." I certainly wouldn't say that it's gross.

Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned to find James biting down on his smile.

"You know how I love to see you lead an interrogation," he explained, "but we're already an hour late."

I nodded subserviently, turning back to swat Dex on the arm before letting him lead me into the hall. While I was shocked, I also couldn't deny that relief was washing over me. At least now I didn't feel so bad about Dex's parents covering my stay here. Not if they literally owned the place.

I caught my reflection in the glass of a framed painting of the grounds, sighing over how ridiculous I looked in that sweater at such a lavish hotel. A lavish hotel owned by my friend's lavish parents. How could I meet them looking like this?

But James' words rang in my ears—we won't be the only ones. For that, I was grateful. Even if it was obvious that I didn't belong amongst the guests in that ballroom, that I was the sales-rack imposter amongst what was sure to be a chamber brimming with CEOs and senators and, at this point, maybe even Rothschilds.

"I still can't believe how rich you are," I mumbled to Dex as we rounded the corner, the light from the ballroom piercing through the darkness of the corridor. "Are you in the Illuminati or something?"

I was joking.

Kind of.

But Dex didn't answer me. Noah didn't answer me. Not even James—smirking, quick-witted, equally as sarcastic James—answered me. Instead, I found myself slamming into a wall constructed from my friends' solid backs, the three of them having stopped a mere two steps into the ballroom.

And it didn't take me long to figure out why.

The room dripped and glistened in old money and glamor, the dark mahogany details offset by seductive red curtains and forest green garlands. Diamonds and jewels adorned necklines and wrists, high heels and polished shoes reverberating off the marble floor to the chandelier-studded ceiling and back.

It was already easy to feel out of place in a room so grand. But I knew I hadn't imagined it when every pair of eyes sailed across the floor to meet mine.

Because contrary to what James had said in the elevator, my friends and I were the only ones in that room wearing ugly Christmas sweaters.

You guys—it's a fashion catastropheee

Please don't forget to vote! Every star takes Jadison one step away from the friendzone✨

Danielle x