I watch the way the snowflakes catch in her auburn hair as her expression grows wistful. She’s beautiful, and I’m noticing, which is a problem because she’s Brady’s sister and a world-famous pop star and completely out of my league.
Focus, Marchiano.
With kind, yet teasing laughter, I say, “The picture you painted sounds a bit like your mom—and I mean that as a compliment.”
She nods slowly as if to agree and to say she’s not joking. “I always wanted to get out of town, remember? Couldn’t wait to see the world, make something of myself.”
“And now?”
“Now I’ve seen the world, and while it’s great, it’s also not all it’s cracked up to be. At least the way I’ve experienced it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been blessed beyond measure, but sometimes I wonder if I was already blessed. Does that make sense? Sorry. I’m rambling.” She scoops up Pookie, who’s decided the snow is her mortal enemy, her little legs paddling as if she’s galloping through the air, desperate to return to the warm lodge.
I’m surprised to hear Rebecca admitting this, to me of all people. “I suppose the grass isn’t always greener, but the snow is definitely whiter.”
She laughs again. “I forgot how much I love it. True winters. Real life. Small towns where people actually know each other.”
We head back inside, stamping snow off our feet. The warmth of the inn envelops us, along with the scent of pine and cinnamon and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.
“First activity starts in thirty minutes,” Noella calls out. “Ugly sweatshirt decorating in the game room!”
Rebecca looks down at herself—still in the sparkly gown. “I need to find something else to wear.”
“Gift shop,” I suggest, pointing to the small store off the lobby. “They’ve got Timber’s Edge merchandise. Probably something to keep you warm.”
“Perfect.” She turns to leave, then pauses. “Meet you in the game room?”
“I’ll be there.”
I watch her head toward the gift shop, Pookie trotting beside her, and shake my head.
This is going to be the strangest and possibly merriest Christmas of my life.
CHAPTER 5
REBECCA
The Timber’s Edge gift shop is a treasure trove of cozy mountain charm. I grab a forest green t-shirt with the lodge’s logo, but make it Christmas—a pine tree wreathed in twinkling lights—and a pair of soft black leggings. I cannot resist the leather fleece-lined slippers either.
After a quick change in my room, if fans take photos, they’ll see that under all the glitz and glam, I’m a normal person instead of someone who perpetually looks like she just stepped off a stage … or escaped the one in Vegas.
Pookie eyes me suspiciously from her spot on the bed, as if questioning my fashion choices.
“Don’t judge me, Pooks. This is called comfort.”
She yawns.
I scoop her up and head to the game room. My stomach does a fluttery thing with every step that takes me closer to Reese. It’s just the cinnamon-scented air. Or the altitude. Definitely not because I’m about to spend the day doing Christmas activities with my brother’s best friend.
The guy I had the most intense crush on before I really knew what the warm and happy butterflies in my belly were trying to tell me. I only became aware of it when I was sixteen and he had just graduated from high school. One of my friends asked why I wasn’t interested in the prom king—Joey Gleason was so hot, our entire school had a collective case of swoon. The boys wanted to be him. The girls wanted to be with him. But then there was Reese. He was hot but also capable and kind and … completely oblivious to my existence beyond my being Brady’s little sister.
The guy who still makes my stomach hit the high notes when he smiles.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I can handle this. Probably.
The game room buzzes with activity when I arrive. There is not one, but three Christmas trees by the big bank of windows. They each have a different theme—toys and games on one, animals on the other, and the bigger one in the center has general Christmas-themed ornaments.
String lights crisscross the ceiling and drape along the outside of the pool table, more candles flicker along the windowsills, and decorative holiday throw pillows with playful designs line the various couches and lounge areas.
Families cluster around tables laden with plain sweatshirts, fabric paint, glitter, felt appliqués, sequins, and enough hot glue guns to make a fire marshal nervous. Christmas music plays softly in the background and the scent of sugar cookies drifts from somewhere nearby.
