Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I changed into my pajamas and let out a long breath, looking out at the beautiful night-sky view past the windows in my hotel room. I jotted out a quick text to Chase, letting him know I was heading to bed and I’d see him tomorrow.
I really did want real love. With someone who felt like an equal. Something like Chase and Adam had. I wasn’t virginal or inexperienced—it wasn’t like I was some pure, thirty-year-old angel. But after a few soulless hookups in my early twenties, I’d all but sworn them off.
Was it so bad to hold out for more?
To hold out for something real?
Once I was in bed, I turned on a cheesy, cozy holiday movie on the TV. I was almost dozing off when I heard a knock at the door.
I swung it open to see a room service worker holding a silver platter with one drink on it.
“Sent from… Landry Lucock,” the young worker said as she read a receipt. “An Irish Creme White Russian, for you.” She handed me the drink and a little folded note along with it, and I thanked her and headed back into my room.
Chase told me which room to send this to. Apologies if I came on too strong. Enjoy this cocktail on me—my favorite winter indulgence.
And thanks for keeping me company out in the snow, Marshmallow. I needed it.
-Lucky
My heart pounded a little harder in my chest as I read the note and took a sip of the delicious drink.
I lounged in bed, enjoying the rest of it as I imagined Landry sending it over.
He said that he’d needed the company tonight. Was it possible that he was actually just as lonely and out of place as I was? It seemed impossible, but stranger things had happened.
Things as strange as me ending up in the freaking snowy mountains this December.
I pulled out my phone and fished the business card out of my jacket pocket after I’d finished my drink. A mixture of exhaustion and tipsiness had warmed my blood, and for the first time all night. I let my guard down.
I texted the cell phone number on the business card.
>>Jamie: Thank you for the drink, Lucky.
I was surprised when my phone vibrated a couple of minutes later.
>>Landry: My pleasure. And, again, apologies. For the flirting. I think I was off base.
I bit my lower lip, a little surge of adrenaline rolling through me. Even if I wasn’t going to hook up with the guy, he was intriguing. Maybe I could have a little fun.
Live a little, like everyone always urged me to do.
What did I have to lose?
>>Jamie: Maybe try it again tomorrow morning at skiing, and we’ll see.
2
LANDRY
In my dream, I was the one at the altar.
It was the first time I’d dreamed about a wedding. It wasn’t in the Rocky Mountains, but instead at the beach, with the shimmering waves as a backdrop. Excitement clamored around in my chest like a caged bird.
My husband-to-be started down the aisle, stepping through the sand to make his way toward me.
With hair the same color as the sand. And slightly tanned skin, eyes as blue as the water, and a shy smile that sent me to the moon. He even had a few tiny, light freckles beneath each of his eyes. I didn’t know who he was, but he was refreshing. Different. I was strangely drawn to him, and in the dream, I didn’t care that he was new.
From there, the dream got ridiculous in the way that dreams often do. Instead of the wedding continuing, suddenly we were shifted into the ocean, then on the beach. The man pulled me in and kissed me deeply as the waves crashed over our feet.
I woke up slowly, like a cloud was dissipating in my mind. I opened my eyes to find myself in the plush white sheets at the ski resort, with a view of the sunrise over the slopes past the big, paned windows of my room.
Gorgeous, no doubt. But something inside me just wanted to return to the dream, about the cute stranger who I barely even knew.
Freakin’ weird dream.
I groaned, turning over in bed, my limbs still heavy with sleep.
For God’s sake. I wasn’t supposed to be dreaming about weddings.
If there was one thing that everyone knew about me, it was that I hated weddings. Sure, I went to weddings. Tons of them. I had attended an average of two weddings a year for the last five years, actually, and I showed up to each and every one of them dressed to the nines and ready to celebrate with a smile on my face.
But deep inside, each one I went to made me more of a wedding grinch than the last.
The loving platitudes. The gifts. The crowds of people, half of which were just jealous onlookers anyway.