by R. Holmes
Two weeks into my new residence in Hollyridge and I haven’t braved the outdoors yet. Looking at pictures of snowy mountains on my phone and actually standing at the foot of one blanketed in snow are two very different experiences. I open the hotel’s app on my phone and browse the amenities, swiping past snowboarding with lifted brows.
“Surfing, yes. Snowboarding? I don’t think so. Losing balance on a surfboard isn’t as scary as face planting into the snowy mountainside at top speed.” Dragging my teeth over my lip absently, I tilt my head. “Why don’t we have sled dogs? That would be fun. I could totally chill with dogs in the snow.”
Mental note, debut the Alpine’s own sled dog team next year. It’ll have a kids center, where Balto will play on a projector. Hell yes. It’s making me nostalgic just thinking about Balto making it back to town with our own pack of dogs at the resort.
With thoughts of the future attraction at the resort filling my head, I keep flicking through the options for something to do.
There are almost too many choices, giving me a sense of decision paralysis when faced with the unfamiliar. Winter in California is nothing like it is here in Montana.
I debate texting Riley for some “moral support”. Translation: I love Christmas, but I have no idea how to do all these winter activities on offer at the Alpine Mountain Resort.
For all that I’ve traveled the world for Dad and the company, I’ve always been so focused on working twice as hard as any of the other executives. There’s never been time for distractions, recreational or otherwise, not when I have to do everything in my power to make sure no one thinks I haven’t earned my spot at the table fair and square. Dad responds to nothing short of better than my best.
It wasn’t any different growing up, either. Dad lives and breathes his empire of hotels around the country. He built his renowned reputation with money and power as his building blocks, sacrificing the time to make family memories in favor of his own personal form of world domination. I don’t think we’ve spent a Christmas together as a family since I was ten, after my parents divorced and split our family down the middle—me living with Dad because I was the oldest and my younger brothers going with Mom when she left.
Spending so many Christmases alone, I fostered a serious love of feel-good holiday movies—from nostalgic classics to cheesy romances to the hilarious comedies, I love them all and they are my strongest memories of growing up.
The only reason I was finally given the opportunity to take over this property is because Dad’s health has been declining since the resort was built. Two of the older, more experienced senior executives fought to take the Alpine, but in the end Dad gave it to me with a gruff command.
Cue my internal happy dance. On the outside I was a cool little California cucumber amidst the stubborn grumbling of my colleagues. Screw them; I freaking earned this.
I’m the only one in Montana. Me. Not those douchebags who have always looked down on me.
If I’m going to run this resort my way to show Dad I’m ready for more, I want to familiarize myself with everything. The guests will have trouble telling me apart from the locals in Hollyridge within another month.
My mouth curls into a satisfied smile. Damn right, girl. I mentally give myself a confident fist pump.
No safety nets this time. It’s everything I’ve been working for. Time to crush it.
Feeling better about my missed unicorn cabin, I send a text to Riley after all. I need a girls night and she’s my only friend in town.
Freya: You’re looking at the resident of the Scandinavian Winter room for the foreseeable future because Zillow hates me [confetti emoji]. Hot toddy and hot spring soak date?
Riley: You had me at hot toddy. Hell yes, I need to get all steamy and wet [smirk emoji]
A laugh bursts from me at her response, and I get up to change into a strappy gold designer bikini that sets off my tan. The resort robe is plush and luxurious with a dark green embroidered mountain from our logo. I let out a hum of pleasure as I wrap it tight around myself.
Armed with my phone, always prepared to start an Instagram Live to showcase the hotel, I lock the door to my home for now and head to meet up with my new friend.
Riley is on my staff at the resort, doubling as a part-time ski instructor as well as the teacher for our art classes. The first day I met her, when I accidentally walked right in during the middle of a pottery class, we clicked immediately.
Thank god, because I am so in need of some friends around here.
In the elevator, a cute guy gives me a casual flick of his eyes. I offer him a smirk that always leaves men wanting more, but it’s all he’ll get from me. One, I don’t hook up with guests. Learned that lesson the hard way at our property in Hawaii. Two, I don’t have time for relationships. I haven’t in a while, not since college two years ago, and even that wasn’t really serious. I’ve been too focused on making Dad see me to worry about a boyfriend.
It’s just me and the trusty vibe to keep me warm at night, rather than solid muscles and hot lips making me shiver. Good thing my imagination runs wild with fantasies of what I’d do with a rugged, sexy guy in my cute rustic cabin, snowed in on a chilly winter night. At the thought, a rush of hot and cold tingles spread over my skin, and a pulse of heat tugs in my belly. Oof, yes please Mr. Mountain Man.
Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I exit the elevator with my mood lifting by the second.
As I walk through the luxurious lobby full of leather, wood, and stone accents to set the atmospheric mood of Hollyridge’s mountain locale, a thrill rushes through me.
I get to be in charge of all of this.
I can’t wait to get started. My mind is already brimming with ideas.
Hollyridge is a sleepy, tourist town tucked away, deep in the Montana mountains. Our small town is surrounded by huge, snow-capped mountains, crystal blue lakes that have frozen for winter, tall pine trees coated with a fresh coat of fluffy snow. It’s straight out of a painting.
The best thing about Hollyridge is the quiet, peaceful serene that feels like nowhere else. Unlike most other tourist towns, its small-town charm is still untouched by the rest of the world. You can walk down the street and see people without their phones glued to their faces. They’re taking in the sights, window shopping, and spending time with friends.
Today, town square is packed and excitement buzzes through the air. Even old Dr. Thomas at the local family-owned medical practice was all smiles when Mrs. Moore was here this morning, flirtin’, pretending she hasn’t been married to Ed for the last forty years. Nothing new, those two. Doc Thomas is as grumpy as they come but it seems like the approaching Christmas season has everyone in high spirits, including him.
“Finn Mayberry!”
I hear a loud, high-pitched voice behind me. It takes everything inside me not to let out the groan that’s threatening to bust out at the sound of her voice. I’d know that voice anywhere. Ella Arnold. A few meaningless nights together and she’s hanging on like the modern day black plague. I avoid her in all ways possible, which is extremely hard to do in a town this size. And the fact that she owns the one and only Christmas store in town, and Grams likes to send me for things at least once a week? I unfortunately see a lot more of Ella than I care to. She’s about one late night roll by my house from a full blown stalker.
“Ella, how are you?” I give her a polite smile and pray to God she doesn’t think I’m flirting or something crazy. Knowing her… she mistakes politeness for more. Trust me, the only thing I want from Ella is for her to forget she even knows me.
She giggles and lazily twirls a loose piece of hair around her finger. The reason I don’t want to be with Ella has absolutely nothing to do with her looks. She’s beautiful, always has been. Her long, honey-colored hair falls in waves past her waist. Her simple light pink sweater paired with tight jeans shows off every curve she has, and let’s be honest showcases an ass that made me come back for more, more than once. Hell, if she wasn’t so dam
n crazy I might have entertained something serious, but when she started to show up at my apartment at random hours of the night, I knew I needed to cut her loose and fast. I think she has some notion in her head that we’ll end up together like soulmates or something. Bat shit fucking crazy, this one.
“I’m good. Just getting things ready for a busy Christmas season. You know, with the store and stuff.” She smiles warmly and then we stand there awkwardly for a few beats before I break the thick silence.
“Well, it was great talking to you. I’ve gotta get home to Grams, she sent me into town for some supplies.” I lift the grocery bags I’m holding.
She nods. “Oh okay. Right. Did you see the Jingle Wars announcement this year?”
I haven’t, but it’s not like I’ve been paying much attention anyway. I never do. I hate that stupid competition and wish they’d find a new town to host it in. Jingle Wars started as a small competition years ago, just a silly local tradition. Now that it has gained national attention in recent years, it’s growing bigger like it’s the next Shark Tank, inviting local businesses to compete for bigger prizes. Although, it does bring a ton of traffic to the town, so I try not to complain much. Without the crowd that it brings in, I think this tiny town would disappear right off the map.
“Nah, I haven’t had much of a chance. Grams is keeping me real busy at the inn.” I make sure to emphasize “real busy” so hopefully she takes the hint and stops calling ten times a day. Fat chance there though.
She leans in closer and whispers in a hushed voice, “Apparently there’s some big time sponsor this year and the grand prize is one hundred thousand dollars. Can you believe it?”
A hundred k? Seriously?
“Ella, I’ve got to run, but it was nice talking to you.” I don’t let her get in another word before I’m headed in the opposite direction. I make my way through the crowd to town square until I see the huge bulletin board that sits in the middle. There’s a poster advertising for Jingle Wars. For the first time I’m interested.
A hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. The poster reads a grand prize for the winner of three “Christmas” themed competitions that will be announced within the next few days.
I wonder who the silent donor is?
I’m taking a copy of the flyer that’s pinned to the board and turning to head back to the inn when I collide with something warm, fuzzy, and soft.
“Oh—crap!”
Everything happens in slow motion, a flurry of limbs and chaos. I reach out for the woman who’s collided with me, and catch her before she can hit the ground.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she cries as I set her back on her feet and help steady her. She adjusts the thin cardigan that she’s wearing, and only then do I get my bearings enough to realize how beautiful she is.
Beautiful, and not a resident of Hollyridge. I would know her if she was. I’d never forget her face if I’d seen it before.
She’s around five foot tall, give or take an inch or two. Much shorter than my six two. So much that I have to look down at her. Bright blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes peer back at me. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, and snowflakes cling to her lashes. Pink, lush lips that I immediately want to kiss draw my attention. They compliment her dark, highlighted wavy hair that falls down her back. I’m taken aback by her beauty. Her attire on the other hand? It immediately catches my attention. Definitely not intended for a Montana winter. Her fuzzy, pale pink cardigan is paired with simple black leggings that hug her curves, not that I got much of a glance in the scuffle. She’s wearing a pair of furry UGG boots that are soaked through from the snow. How she’s not shivering, I have no idea. I’m cold just looking at her.
“It’s no problem, that ice can be slippery without the right shoes.” I grin and glance down at her UGGs.
She laughs, then her boot catches another piece of ice, almost causing her to fall once more. I reach out and steady her before she ends up on her ass. Obviously beautiful, but sensible not so much…
Don’t be an ass Finn, maybe she’s just a tourist and doesn’t know any better.
“These damn shoes! Thank you, seriously.” Her cheeks turn another shade darker and she’s obviously flustered, but damn if it doesn’t make her that much more attractive.
“It’s no problem. It looks like you’re probably not from around here,” I tell her, gesturing to her attire.
“Is it that obvious?” She wrinkles her nose and looks down at her feet.
I laugh, offering a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe a little. You have to be freezing. Hollyridge winters are no joke.”
“I am,” she admits, fiddling with the buttons on her cardigan. “I wasn’t planning on coming into town, but I was going stir crazy. Wanted to see for myself everything Hollyridge has to offer.” She holds up her phone and offers a beaming smile. Bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly, she shows me her phone. “I swear I can’t stop taking pictures of everything. My Insta feed is so cute right now.”
“Ah, yeah, it’s a great place. To visit or to live. Friendly people, good food, lot’s to see. I’m Finn by the way.” I extend my hand to her and she places her small, albeit freezing fingers in mine. A shiver runs down my spine.
“Sorry for the ice fingers. I’m Freya. It’s nice to meet you.”
I spend the next few minutes pointing out some of the popular spots in town square that my family and I like to go to. There’s so much more to Hollyridge than what I can show her from the town square.
This girl is beautiful. The way her eyes light up at the simpleness that Hollyridge has to offer immediately makes me want to get to know her further. See what else gets such an easy reaction from her.
“You know what? You should let me show you around sometime. Introduce you to the non-tourist version of Hollyridge,” I tell her before I can second guess what I’m doing. I just asked her on a date. Sort of.
“That’s so sweet. They aren’t kidding about how welcoming everyone is here, huh? You know, my schedule is actually super tight this week, but that would be nice. Maybe we can meet over there, at The Coffee Spirit? Friday around four?” She gives me another bright smile, still fiddling with the buttons on her cardigan.
Just from the few minutes around her I can tell she’s confident, and sure of herself. The sexiest thing about a woman is the confidence she exudes.
“Yeah, that sounds great.” I grin.
There. Done. An actual date with someone who I wasn’t set up with through my Grams on bingo night. She’ll be proud.
I bite back a laugh at the thought.
“Well, I have to get back home with this stuff but it was nice to meet you, Freya. I’ll see you next week.” I toss her a flirty grin and she responds with a cheeky smile of her own. I turn back and start my way home, but sneak one more look at Freya over my shoulder and see her snap a photo of the Jingle Wars poster. This stupid competition was looking more and more appealing by the second.
“Dude, you’re telling me you met a hot new piece of ass in this little bitty town and you didn’t think to ask her if she had a sister?” My annoying best friend scoffs, then slams his beer down on the bar for dramatic effect.
“West, I talked to her for like ten minutes. We planned to meet up for coffee and for me to show her around. Not a lot happened in those ten minutes.” I didn’t want to say much more and jinx it because even though he’s annoying, he’s right.
New people constantly pass through, but very few stay longer than a few days, maybe a week at most.
"While I was in town today, I ran into Ella Arnold, unfucking fortunately, but she told me that the Jingle Wars grand prize this year is a hundred thousand dollars."
"No shit huh?" West takes another pull of his beer, but his attention is on the bartender, Aria, who's talking to another patron at the end of the bar.
"Yeah, I thought about maybe joining this year."
He throws his head back and laughs until he has tears in his eyes. Asshole.
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"Why the fuck is that so funny?" I mutter.
He wipes his eyes. "Dude, you literally hate the competition. You bitch about it every year until I’m ready to beat my head on this bar."
"I just think it's such a ridiculous thing to have people compete in fucking Christmas games for money. Like show animals or some shit."
"You boys need another refill?" Aria asks from the other side of the bar.
West shakes his head no, but doesn't speak. The air has turned icy and I can feel the tense vibes between the both of them. Once she's gone I turn to him.
"What was that? Are you boning her?"
He hesitates for a moment, then downs the rest of his beer in one large sip.
"Complicated shit man. Women."
Ain’t that the truth.
West has had his share of women problems, starting with Riley Tucker when she was chasing him around the playground. Twenty years later and he’s the one doing all the chasing.
"Welcome to my life. At least your eighty year old grandmother isn't setting you up at the bingo hall bro." I grin.
"Yep, you're right. Doesn't she need our help with some lights or some shit tonight?" he asks.
"Damn, I forgot. Yeah, let's get out of here before she throws all the cookies away. You know she's always bribing me with food."
"She knows the way to my heart."
After I finish off my drink, we leave the bar and head home.
When we pull up in the driveway of the inn, Grams is waiting on the front porch, knitting. She’s bundled in a sweater with her heated blanket and I shake my head. This woman will worry me crazy. It’s cold as shit outside and she’s out here like she’s on the beach somewhere. The sun has already dipped below the clouds and night is setting in, causing the temperatures to drop.
“Hey Grams,” West greets her, dropping a peck on her cheek.
“Why, West Andrew Collins, it's been far too long since you've shown your face around here. Lots of things for you to fix." She smiles.