by R. Holmes
One I'd happily deliver.
The time passes quickly, and I busy myself scrolling on my phone on Facebook, the one and only social media app that I have. Even then, I barely post. Social media as a whole makes me cringe. I only use it to keep up with old classmates and friends who got out of this town and traveled the world, got married, had kids.
"Places everyone, we're going live in the count of 20," the assistant with her bright pink clipboard tells us all, shooing us into our places. "Okay three...two...one."
"We are live here on the set of Jingle Wars! Our judges have spent the last thirty minutes deliberating on who is making the top three cut! We have so much talent here today, I know their choice couldn't have been easy! I have the three contestants who will continue on to round two right here in this envelope. Are we ready to find out?" Cornelius asks the crowd, then points his microphone in their direction. The crowd yells and claps excitedly in response.
The speakers pound with a drum roll and the crowd starts to clap, each one getting increasingly louder as he pulls the card from the sealed envelope.
"The first contestant proceeding to round two in third place is... Freya Anderson! Congratulations! Please take your spot on the stage."
Freya squeals excitedly and skips over to the stage.
Damn it.
I'll never forgive myself if she wins this competition, not when she was the one who distracted me from the finish line. I can't afford distractions when the entire fate of the Mayberry rests on my shoulders.
"The next contestant to advance into round two is... Marcus Godrey! Congratulations!"
Shit.
This is my last chance. If they don't call my name, the hope of saving the inn is gone.
A knot forms in my stomach, and I feel like I'm going to hurl right where I stand. I'm more nervous than I've ever been in my life with the enormity of what is truly at stake.
"Taking first place in our very first competition and advancing to round two is... Hollyridge’s finest, FINN MAYBERRY! Congratulations, Finn! Get your handsome tail up here!"
My cheeks heat as I make my way up to the stage, joining Freya and the other contestant. She doesn't look as triumphant as she did whenever I wasn't here on the stage next to her. I don't even give a shit right now, all I care about is that I fucking made it through this stupid competition and I have a fighting chance to do what I promised Grams and Gramps I would... Save. The. Mayberry, no matter what it takes.
Finn wins. After all my effort and hard work, he takes first place in the challenge.
My brief burst of confidence at making the cut for top three wavers with him standing beside me. I have to admit, even though I put my all into decorating my first real tree, his is… His tree is perfect. It has so much heart and soul. It is the Christmas spirit in tree form.
But Finn winning this round can’t take away from something even more important to me. Today’s experience was a magic I can’t describe, trekking into the quiet forest to search amongst the trees for one that spoke to me. Excitement still bubbles in my chest when I picture the moment I touched the soft green pine needles of my tree, smelled the fresh scent. Some sticky sap still coats the heel of my palm, proof of my hard work. The movies I love don’t do the sense of accomplishment justice.
Now that I have an actual taste of the real experience I missed out on, I’ll cherish this memory for the rest of my life.
The bright glow is enough to keep me distracted from my soaking wet UGG boots and how damn cold I’ve been since rolling around with my rival in the snow.
I was worried I wouldn’t make it after Finn gave me shit, but I still did it. I found the biggest tree I could, got it back to the judging area with some creative maneuvering, and advanced no thanks to him.
True, I couldn’t have the one I first spotted—the one he claimed, that big…stupid…sexy jerk who smells like spice and has soft warm lips. I shake my head. Reel in the thirsting.
Did he mean to sort of kiss me as a distraction? The brush of his lips on mine and faint scrape of his scruff against my skin as he told me we’re playing by his rules is branded in my mind. As Cornelius flirts with the crowd, I press my chilled fingers to my lips.
He didn’t mean it. There’s no way. He probably wanted to fight dirty. The corners of my mouth turn down. Anything to sabotage me.
“So there we have it, your semi-finalists of Jingle Wars!” Cornelius pauses for the crowd to clap. “We’re one step closer to crowning our king or queen. What festive feats will they face next? Well, I’m glad you asked!”
I push the near-kiss with Finn to the back of my mind and listen closely as Mr. Frost presents the next round of the competition.
“Hollyridge is a town of longstanding history, known for its holiday tourism. For the next challenge, our contestants will be sent on a scavenger hunt,” Cornelius announces, waving to the same table with a velvet curtain. “But this won’t be just any scavenger hunt. It’s the Hollyridge Merrymaker Trail, a local favorite! Misty?”
The girl in the elf costume pulls back the curtain to reveal an illustrated map of the town with landmarks.
Cornelius Frost points to each as he talks. “This scavenger hunt will have our contestants visiting local businesses in Hollyridge. But we have a special bonus surprise we’ll be revealing on the day of the challenge!” He winks at us. “Once they complete the trail and find all the points on the map, our judges will determine who is passing to the final round.”
A scavenger hunt? Yes! A thrilling sense of anticipation rises. I have this one in the bag, no doubt. I’m totally back in the game to win this.
“Tune in next time for round two, our semi-finalist challenge!” With that, the broadcast ends and Cornelius gives the three of us a nod to leave the stage.
Once I’m moving again, it’s hard to ignore the sogginess in each frigid, squishy step. Are my toes numb? They might be. I can’t tell anymore. I grimace, hopping off the last step.
“Ew,” I mumble, lifting one wet foot.
I’m pretty sure this time my UGGs are ruined beyond repair. They’re muddy and gross, the color of the suede indistinguishable.
“What’s wrong, Princess?” Finn’s voice carries a heavy dose of sarcastic bite. “The woods not what you expected?”
I turn to find him behind me, smirking. The smug bastard is proud of his win.
“Nothing. I’m perfectly fine.” Folding my arms, I tip my face up. A crinkled, dead leaf falls from somewhere on my once-fluffy faux fur coat, but I hold Finn’s stare with a challenge in my eyes. “I made the top three, didn’t I? So I’m great.”
“Peachy fuckin’ keen, I’d bet,” Finn says, the corner of his mouth lifting higher. “You cold?”
“No,” I answer stubbornly.
“No?”
Ugh, that knowing, arrogant lilt in his voice! It makes my mind jump back to straddling him in on the snowy ground, wrapped in his arms against his hard body. His warm, muscular arms. I have had it up to here with you, brain. You’re in time out. I take a step closer to him with narrowed eyes.
“No.” I glance around after my voice rises with more sharpness than I intended.
Finn brings this side out of me. The one that makes me want to fight tooth and nail to be seen and heard.
He snorts. “Sure. That’s real believable when your fuzzy slippers are soaked through from the snow.”
Without asking, he reaches forward and picks a twig out of my tangled hair. A shiver runs down my spine, but I’m not sure if it’s from the chill in the air or from the way he’s looking at me. I lift my chin a fraction higher. Twigs are rustic chic right? That’s me.
Amusement lights up Finn’s eyes for a few moments before fading back to dismissal. His brows furrow. “Why the hell are you even doing this? It doesn’t seem like you need the money.”
There’s something about that making him angrier, driving away any shred of humor, as if he’s remembered why we hate each other. Well, screw him. I can’t contro
l that I have money, but it’s not like I haven’t worked my ass off for everything I’ve earned.
I’d argue he’s luckier—he’s the one with a loving family, after all. Money doesn’t give cozy hugs when you need to be reminded someone cares for you.
Finn might be in this competition for the prize, but I’m the one who needs this edge to impress Dad.
Rolling my eyes, I move to shove past him. “It doesn’t matter. Why do you care?”
Before I get far, Finn has an arm hooked around me, stopping me in my tracks. I struggle with a grunt, but he easily herds me back two steps so my back is pressed against the cool wooden frame of the gazebo, his big hands planted on either side of my head. A pine garland wrapped with silver tinsel blocks us from view.
My chest rises and falls with each breath as we stare each other down, and my heart skips a beat.
“What are you doing? Let me out of here. I want to go take a long hot bath and get out of these dirty clothes.”
Finn’s deep brown eyes flare with heat. He holds my gaze, then drops it in favor of dragging his attention down to my body to my skintight leggings. I almost feel his eyes like a sensual caress as his gaze moves back up to meet mine again. He lifts a hand and plucks more sticks and leaves from my hair.
The bustling town square disappears around us, the world narrowing down to Finn, me, and a tether cinching tighter between us.
“I told you,” he rumbles, the rough sound of his voice piercing me. My clit throbs in response. He sighs. “You should stop now. Save yourself the trouble of having your pride bruised. I don’t want to see your pouting face when you lose to me.”
Peering up at him through my lashes, I pull my mouth to the side in a crooked grin. “Oh, caveman. The only one of us who’ll be bruised is you.”
We’re close enough I can see his pupils dilate, feel the shift in his breathing when his head inclines another inch to erase what little distance is left between us. To prove my point, I reach up to cup his neck, thumbs grazing his jaw. It’s warm beneath my icicle fingers. His focus drops to my mouth and my grin stretches.
Without warning, I dig my nails in, just enough to be uncomfortable, not break the skin. “I’m a fighter, Finn Mayberry. I have no problem fighting you to the end.”
“We’ll see about that, Traitor,” Finn rasps, a hint of arousal clear in his tone.
I lick my lips and he releases a near-silent groan. I’m only aware of it because I feel the rumbling vibration beneath my hands. The invisible cinch pulls tighter, his chest brushing against mine. He drops the stick he fished from my messy hair and traces my jaw with his thumb, angling my face up. My lashes flutter and my chest caves.
He’s going to—
“Don’t you two look cozy.”
The friendly voice laced with laughter has us flying apart. I smack the back of my head against the gazebo.
“Ow.” I wince, holding the back of my skull.
Finn reaches for me on instinct, then drops his arm like a stone in water. A bewildered, guilty look settles on his face. “Grams, I—No—It wasn’t—”
He takes two big steps away from me, putting ample space between us, then rubs his forehead. My eyes bounce between him and the woman who interrupted before he kissed me. He said Grams, so that would make her Mrs. Mayberry. She’s a beautiful older woman with laugh lines and her eyes crinkle at the corners with her smile.
Everything about her immediately makes me want to hug her.
“Well, um.” I hook my thumb in a vague direction that is anywhere but here. “I’m just gonna. Yeah. I need to go.”
“Make sure you drink something warm after you get yourself cleaned up. Don’t let your bath water get too hot, or you’ll burn fresh out of the cold. You have to go slowly to warm back up,” Mrs. Mayberry says, taking in my state, lingering on my soggy UGG boots. “And after that, double up on your socks, wrap up in a blanket, and plant your bottom in front of the fireplace, you hear now?”
“I—” An unexpected lump forms in my throat. No one’s ever looked out for me like that before. This is unfamiliar and a wave of dormant emotions slam into me. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Before the tears stinging my eyes and clogging my throat are noticeable, I hurry off. As I leave, her comment to Finn reaches my ears.
“It’s nice to see you both getting along.”
“That’s not what I’d call it...” Finn mutters.
After filming the first round challenge on Sunday, it takes a few days to get my head back in the game with Finn getting deeper under my skin. He’s a distraction. One I can’t grant any power over me if I want to surpass Dad’s expectations with the Alpine.
But if he’d kissed me? I think I would’ve let him. Hell, I would’ve kissed back.
There’s no denying it. My body was all too eager to arch for him. His cedar and spice scent is so intoxicating, I probably would have climbed my lumberjack neighbor like a tree right there in the town square.
Damn Finn Mayberry. Damn his scruff, and that cocky grin when he thinks he’s right. Damn everything about that infuriating man.
On Thursday, I brace my hands on the white granite counter in the bathroom of my room at the Alpine. With the competition, I’ve given up my search for the perfect cabin to call my own. The Scandinavian Winter room is still my home. For now.
Twitter notifications flood my locked phone screen with mentions and trending hashtags about Finn and I. It was a joke when I suggested the Jingle Wars audience might ship us, but I didn’t expect it to actually happen. Since the tree challenge, my notifications have been blowing up. Who knows what vibe we gave off at the broadcast. I was too busy bouncing between living and breathing the winter spirit and shooting daggers at Finn. On live TV.
Going by some of these tweets, people have the distinct idea we’re either boning every second we get, or we’re five minutes from it.
“Yeah right,” I say with a breathy laugh.
Don’t be lyin’, girl.
My brain needs to cool its tits. “Don’t @ me, Brain Freya, it’s not happening. Quit calling me out.” I point at my reflection in the large mirror, manicured brows raised in a don’t try me expression. “No matter how many sexy as fuck almost-kisses we share, I won’t cross that line with him.”
The put together version of myself in the mirror doesn’t answer, but I still sense the judgy gaze. I’m a mess. Ever since I got to Hollyridge, it’s like I’ve lost the edge I’ve spent the last two years cultivating since graduating college in California.
“Okay, enough moping.”
And enough talking to myself.
I have to finish getting ready for today’s special Facebook Live event at the Alpine. We’re unveiling a new amenity for our guests: a virtual sleigh ride through the mountains surrounding Hollyridge filmed by a professional drone crew.
It’s an idea I got after seeing Finn and Saint Nick at the bazaar for the donkey-drawn sleigh ride.
I wasn’t going to debut it so soon. On my meticulous marketing plan the big reveal of our new attraction was supposed to tie in with Christmas Eve. But after I just scraped through in the first round of the Jingle Wars competition, I felt this was what we needed to get back on people’s radar again.
A nasty voice in my head creeps in, whispering doubts that claw at my cracked confidence. Why are you here? No matter how hard you work, it’s not good enough. Dad doesn’t care. Give up.
“No,” I hiss, squeezing the hard counter. Pushing down the inner critic, I grab a berry red matte lipstick from the makeup spread on the sink. I perfect it and pucker at my reflection. “Be bold and show ‘em all.”
I fluff my highlighted dark hair, styled in bouncy soft curls, and check the false lashes making my bright blue eyes pop. Perfectly camera-ready with a little extra makeup than I wear day to day.
Snagging my phone from the countertop, I head into the bedroom and put on knee-high black suede boots to go with my cable knit designer sweater dress. I’ve learned my le
sson, adding a pair of deep red tights with white snowflakes and a cozy forest green wool wrap for when we step outside with the live reveal of the sleigh situated on the patio behind the lobby, next to the outdoor bar.
Movement outside the window catches my eye and I freeze. There, in the tree line. An elk steps out.
My breath catches. “Wow. They are real.”
It’s a majestic sight, one I can’t look away from for several seconds. The elk lifts its head, almost as if it’s meeting my eye, then moves on. It disappears as fast as it appeared.
Is the spirit of winter sending me a sign? It sure feels like it.
Grinning wide as a giddy excitement blooms in my chest, I head downstairs with my mood soaring high.
The lobby is buzzing with energy from the guests enjoying the hot cider and gingerbread cookies set out for snacks every day at three. A sign next to the front desk advertises the Facebook Live event for the new experience at the resort.
Riley stands by the stacked stone fireplace to the side of the room with a handsome man with a dimpled smile and blonde, unruly hair. I recognize him as the same friend that helped Finn with the tree he put up in response to mine next to his inn’s sign. He leans a shoulder against the stonework and whatever he says makes her laugh hard. She leans close to respond. They must know each other well, because they seem comfortable together, standing near enough their bodies brush when they shift. When the guy looks away at an attractive woman, though, Riley’s gaze hardens and her shoulders move with the force of her huffed exhale.
As I head for the sign, Finn walks in, casting a look around the Alpine lobby decked out in rustic touches and seasonal decor. My stomach clenches in surprise.
Sweet Santa’s elves, does he always have to look so good?