His Wood Her Fire (Cherry On Top Tales #6)

Chapter One-Gloria

“ N ot another one,” I moaned.

I read the latest email invitation to yet another ugly sweater, cookie exchange, holiday caroling party bash from one of my many married friends and acquaintances.

Christ.

Shit. I didn’t mean that in a bad way.

I winced and sent that thought into the universe, hoping to appease whatever deity might be listening.

I was raised Catholic, and even though I don’t go to Church, I do believe. And I still celebrate the fun stuff.

You know, like Easter and Christmas, which was just a few weeks away.

But for some reason, I just wasn’t feeling festive this year.

Okay, fine.

It wasn’t for “whatever” reason. It was for one very simple, basic, and utterly humiliating reason.

I’d just turned forty before Thanksgiving. And I was still as single as the day I was born.

FML.

I wasn’t throwing myself a pity party or anything. But what the hell, Universe?

How could it be that the last steady and meaningful relationship I’d had with someone of the opposite sex was in grade school?

I had this cute friend who lived down the street from me and every holiday like clockwork that sweet little boy brought me presents from the time we were in preschool until fifth grade.

This kid knew his stuff, and he always had the perfect something for everything.

Balloons for my birthday. Chocolates for Valentine’s Day. A candy bunny for Easter. And my favorite thing in the whole world every December 25 th —a brand new book wrapped up in bright, festive paper.

At the time, I’d been completely obsessed with those Choose Your Own Adventure paperbacks, and little George used to get me one every stinking year.

We still talked, though not very often. George and his wife, Lee, had moved to San Diego and were doing just great. They welcomed their second child this past August, and I looked forward to his yearly newsletter and greeting card.

If George and Lee were still here, I’d go to their Christmas party.

As it was, I received twenty-seven invitations, and I’d turned them all down. I just couldn’t do it.

I would not be the third wheel, or whatever the heck it was called these days, at any of these holiday get-togethers.

All the pitying looks. The concerned expressions. The sympathetic pats on the shoulder, with the oh-so-annoying reassurances that I would find my someone soon.

No thanks.

Hard pass.

“Hey Lo, are you going to Mark’s this year?” Andy, my personal assistant, came into my office bearing gifts in the form of a hot double espresso with two packets of sugar in the raw.

Come to mama.

“Andy, I would rather get my pussy waxed without numbing cream, fuck you very much,” I snarked and gem that he was, he managed to swallow his own mouthful of iced coffee before he started LOLing.

“You have to answer these handwritten ones,” he said, handing me a brand new stack of invites.

“Fuck no. You do it.”

“You know, you never told me why you are being so Scroogey this year,” he said, sitting down across from me while we drank our coffees.

For an assistant, Andy tended to cross the line between what was an acceptable amount of concern and what was really not okay.

But that was part of his charm. He was always meddling and God, I usually loved him for it. But I didn’t want to go there with him.

Not this time.

I lifted my to-go cup to my mouth and shook my head.

“Okay, so what are you going to do?”

“What? You mean about the invitations? Ugh, with the office shutting down the next few weeks for that remodel, I was planning on just holing up in my condo,” I mumbled.

“What? No way! Lo, that is not okay. I know you don’t talk to your brother anymore, but there has to be someone you want to spend the holidays with?”

“Actually, no. There isn’t. I’m fine staying home?—”

“Nope. Not having it. Okay look, Desmond just surprised me with a trip to visit his parents in Vermont,” Andy began, and I raised my hand for him to stop.

“Wait! Did he propose?” I asked, mouth open.

Andy started to blush, but he lifted his hand to show me the gorgeous platinum band on his ring finger.

“And you didn’t tell me? Andy! CONGRATS!” I squealed and got up to hug the lucky bastard.

“Aw, thank you, Lo. I mean, I didn’t want to say something and upset you,” he mumbled, and my heart squeezed.

Wow!

Had I really been that self-absorbed that my own assistant was hiding things from me?

Probably.

And it meant I sucked more than I thought.

“Nonsense. Andy, you are a wonderful man, and knowing you finally found the happiness you deserve with Desmond is truly the best news ever,” I said.

“Thanks, Lo. I appreciate that. But it means the cabin I’d booked us for the holidays is free and I would love it if you took over the reservation,” he replied, smiling so widely I thought his face would crack.

“What are you talking about? Me? In a cabin?”

“Yes, you! Gloria, it’s so freaking beautiful. Here, let me shoot you the details. Say yes and I will have them transfer the reservation to your name.”

I sighed and rolled my head on my neck, shaking it as I focused on my screen.

“I don’t know, Andy. You know, I hate the outdoors,” I said, and I clicked on his email.

“Oh my God. You do not. Besides, this is a luxury cabin rental. Not a tent in the woods.”

“Fine. Let me look,” I mumbled and scrolled through the images.

“You do that, and I am going to finish boxing up the junk on my desk. You are all set, right?” he asked, nodding at my own boxes all neatly lined by the door.

My boss said renovations were going to be three weeks minimum but told us to plan to work from home for the next month.

Luckily, I had just closed a major deal I’d been working on. I worked for a PR firm, handling clients who required special attention based on their fields of expertise.

Mainly, I took care of social media posts, scheduling in person events, press releases, and things of that nature. I was good at my job, and I loved that I was able to do it for select New Jersey artists and photographers.

In fact, I’d just sealed the deal for a sweet gallery showing for this mystery photographer’s work. He went by the initials B.D. only, but he never spoke to me directly and refused to answer my correspondence.

Everything went through an agent who assured me the Christmas Eve gig I’d booked for him at a prestigious gallery in historic Morristown was just what the doctor ordered.

With that done, I was pretty much freed up for the next few weeks.

Perfect for a couple of weeks' vacay.

I dismissed Andy with a nod. No longer paying attention as I found myself distracted by the incredible photos on my screen.

They were amazing,

Stunning.

Art as opposed to something hastily taken for commercial purposes. I sighed as I leaned closer to the monitor to take in the details, approving of the quality lighting and expertise it took to shoot such scenes.

Real estate photography was highly competitive, but they all tended to have the same look. Like they were selling you something.

Whoever took these pictures didn’t seem to care about that. It was as if the person had a true love for the place.

I could almost smell the piney scent of the woods, hear the crackle of the fireplace, and taste the steaming mug of coffee that was featured in one of the indoor photos.

I could go there.

Spend two weeks by myself with all that glorious landscape surrounding me.

I could forget about all the invitations plaguing me, all the couples so happy and in love, and maybe find solace in the very real possibility I will be alone for the rest of my life .

A shiver ran through me, and I bit back the sob that threatened to escape my lips.

There is no shame in being alone, Gloria.

I told myself. But one scolding wasn’t enough. It was past time I made peace with it.

I continued to peruse the images and as the seconds ticked by, I felt like the cabin itself was calling to me.

A quiet invitation I couldn’t ignore.

I found myself getting lost in each image, one after another. There were several, and being in New Jersey, I could see the photographer had taken special care to capture the landscape through the seasons.

Spring, summer, and fall were all there, each shot vibrant in its own way, but it was when I got to winter that something just clicked.

I sighed just thinking about it. Winter had always been my favorite season.

Staring at the snow-covered landscape around the cabin made me long to see it in person.

I wondered if there was snow there yet and hoped there was. Something about it seemed to soften all the sharp edges of the world.

The bare trees stood like sentinels, their branches heavy with frost. The cabin, rustic yet elegant, nestled among the dense woods in a way that made it look almost timeless—like it had always belonged there.

The warm glow of light from within the windows contrasted beautifully with the crisp blue sky above it. A stream of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, only adding to the sense of peace I found in just looking at it.

Imagine if you were there in real life? How would you feel then, Gloria?

Maybe it was the stillness of the images, or the way the wood of the cabin seemed to embrace the cold without being consumed by it—that made me feel an almost magnetic pull.

It wasn’t just the aesthetic of the place, though. It was the sense of home, of comfort , of stepping into a place where time slowed down that appealed to me.

Forty was plenty old enough to know the things I liked, and I liked the idea of this place.

It was the kind of spot where you could imagine settling in with a cup of tea or a good book, away from the world.

The more I stared at the screen, the more I could almost hear the crackle of the fire inside, the quiet hum of the world just outside those sturdy walls.

It was like the cabin was whispering to me, not in words, but in that primal way that only a place with history and soul can.

For the first time in what felt like ages, I was overwhelmed by the need to just… be somewhere.

I knew then that Andy was right. I had to experience it, to breathe in the fresh winter air and hear the crunch of snow beneath my boots.

It wasn’t just a cabin—it was a retreat, a sanctuary from everything.

And in that moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was meant for me.

“Andy?” I called, and as expected, his head popped through the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll take it!”

“Yes! You are going to love this place, Lo! I just feel it.”

I grinned and stood up, shutting my laptop down. I couldn’t explain my need to rush, but I just had to get home. I needed to pack and make plans for my neighbor to feed my fish while I was gone.

Frou-Frou, my cat, was coming with me, of course. I saw they accepted pets and was immediately relieved. My little fur baby was so much more than that to me.

Excitement filled my veins, and I grabbed the hand truck I’d brought up from the lobby and loaded my boxes onto it before heading down to the parking lot.

For the first time in weeks, I felt positively giddy.

A couple of weeks on a mountaintop was exactly what I needed.