Mountain Man’s Mistletoe Miracle (Mountain Man Christmas Romance #11)

Chapter 1

Nicolette

The snow crunches under my winter boots as I walk towards the grand wooden porch of Lustre Lodge. A shiver runs down my spine—not from the cold, but from the excitement of what’s coming. I glance at Wanda, who has the same smile plastered on her face.

“You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself. This is it—the endless phone calls, months of planning, meetings, emails, creating spreadsheets, and late nights—my biggest matchmaking event yet, happening just as I dreamed in the most picturesque winter wonderland, Lustre Lake.

Before Greg, Wanda’s husband, can knock on the heavy front door, which is adorned with shining Christmas decor, the door swings open, revealing a middle-aged woman who looks like the perfect children’s storybook grandmother.

The sweet scent of cinnamon and pine wafts out of the lodge behind her, instantly transporting me into happy holiday memories.

“I knew I heard a car pull up! Welcome!” She beams at us, her cheeks rosy, and motions with her hands for us to step in. “Come in quickly, everyone. It’s freezing out there.”

“Oh, we’re used to the cold. But trust me, I won’t say no to getting warmed up by the fire.

Something smells amazing in here.” Wanda stomps the snow off her boots, and her husband follows suit.

We all enter the beautifully appointed space.

It’s cheerful and homey, with just enough luxury to stand out.

The heat from the crackling fireplace forces me to pull down my scarf and proceed to take off my coat. The lodge manager, Mrs. Larson, chuckles. “Oh, that’s just my hot cocoa brewing. I didn’t want to make food, but now that you’re here…”

“Oh no, Ma’am,” I cut in. “Just the hot cocoa would be nice.” Mrs. Larson reminds me so much of my mom, and there is no way I’d let her stress herself out trying to serve us. Fortunately, I have plenty of staff ready for the matchmaking events.

When I finally look around, my breath catches.

The lodge is more magical than I thought it’d be.

A towering fresh Christmas tree covered in gold and crimson stands gloriously in one corner of the massive lobby, twinkling and casting a warm glow over the Christmas stockings underneath it and the music box giving off soft instrumental holiday music.

The stone fireplace shines its light from opposite it and disperses the warmth all over the cream-painted room. “This is beyond perfect,” I whisper, just loud enough that Wanda could hear, a sense of pride swelling in my head.

“It really is.” She nudges me to look at the other end of the hall, where a stunning grand piano sits next to a mini library, tucked neatly under a grand staircase. “You outdid yourself, Nic, again.”

Greg swirls around, letting out a low whistle. “Man, I’m glad to be here. It’s like a place out of a Christmas movie.”

That compliment earns him a wink from Mrs. Larson. “That’s the plan, dear. Everyone deserves to feel the warmth of the holidays, not just characters in a movie.”

“Yeah, right.” Wanda turns round and round, falling in love with the space.

“Now, let me show you to your rooms so you can settle in, and then we’ll go over a few details.” She leads us down the hallway towards the piano and up the stairs.

We take an hour to soak in the room’s beauty.

Two bedrooms sharing a living room seemed to be just sufficient for our stay here.

Plus, it’ll be wonderful having Wanda close by in case I have an Eureka moment at an odd hour.

This event needs to be seamless and perfect, so the close proximity will help.

But there’s enough privacy to maintain our own space.

Wanda and I plop onto the large couch by the massive stone fireplace, staring at the event binder on the makeshift table in front of us. Greg has gone off to explore the rest of the lodge, leaving us to tie up the loose ends for the event.

As promised, Mrs. Larson has one of her staff bring us her infamous cocoa.

The sweet chocolatey perfection is incredible, and I relish the flavor while flipping through the guest list to double-check the pairings one last time.

Everything seems in order, but just as I’m about to close the binders, my eyes fall upon a name without a pairing.

Two guests. No, this can’t be possible. I made sure.

“Wait,” I throw my hands in the air, pausing Wanda dramatically. “There are two guests without matches here. Two extra names, Wanda. How did that happen?” My brows furrow into a frown, which disappears as soon as her lips quirk up with a smirk.

Oh, no.

“Oh. That…” She runs her hand through her hair and clears her throat. “That would be my fault.”

“Wanda!” I raise my voice. “What did you do this time?”

“This time?” She throws me her lame attempt at puppy-dog eyes and scoots closer. My stomach churns, already knowing where this is going. “Okay, don’t be mad. I just took the liberty of adding two men to the list.”

I try to shoot her a stern look, but she’s sitting too close.

Her smile is mischievous as she captures me with emerald eyes, begging to be heard.

It was one reason I hired her on the spot—those eyes could make one rethink their life choices—and probably why Greg married her after just eight months of meeting her.

I mean, if you overlook her olive skin, dark brown hair, and slender legs.

“Liberty?”

“Nic, I see how hard you work, putting so much dedication into helping other people find their happy ever after, but you never give yourself a chance. These guys are amazing. I mean, they’re smart, successful, and, most importantly, single.

” She takes my hand and continues hesitantly. “I thought maybe…”

A guttural groan escapes me, and I flick my hand out of hers, slapping it over my eyes. “Wanda, I appreciate the thought. Truly, I do. It’s heartwarming. But this isn’t the right time for dating. Not when I have so much to do and need as few distractions as possible.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, all her feistiness appears.

Wanda jumps up from the couch and places her hands on her hips.

“These are not distractions. Yes, they might be hot enough to do that, but look at the bright side. You’ll be helping people find love while including yourself in the roulette and hoping it works for you, too. ”

I shake my head, muttering a silent refusal to her poorly reasoned argument; the scent of wood-smoke lingers in the air.

But she stares me down, making me question why I’m so against this.

After all, matchmakers deserve love too…

and if not love, maybe just some smoking hot sex. No heart involved. Right?

I sigh in surrender. “Tell me about them.”

Wanda squeals excitedly and flips open her notebook. “Ethan Black. Thirty-nine…”

“Thirty-nine?” I cut in. “That’s extreme, don’t you think? We don’t think someone closer to my age would be better?”

“Babes, c’mon.” Wanda snaps back at me, and for a moment, I pause to appreciate her ability to know when to break the ice and switch from assistant to good friend. “You’re turning thirty in January. It’s not that big of a gap. Age is just a number. Plus, remember the last man your age?”

“Well, who’s to blame for that? Remember James?” I fold my arms across my chest and wait for her reply.

“Oh, girl, don’t remind me. I’ll forever be guilty of that one.”

“See?” I reach out and flip her notebook closed with a snort. “Your track record alone should have me running the other way.”

“Can you at least listen to the offer?” She re-opens the book with a pointed glare, clears her throat dramatically, then continues, “Restaurateur. Owns a big and successful chain of farm-to-table restaurants in and out of Lustre Lake. Tall, dark, and average-looking. A bit of a workaholic, but for you, that’s a perk—no kids or dark secrets that I can find.

I laugh at the comment despite myself. “Okay, the other one.”

Wanda rolls her eyes before flipping the page. “James Holloway…”

“Oh no, not another James.”

“Gives you PTSD? I can relate.” Her eyes search her notes. “Umm, thirty-seven. Runs a nonprofit organization for at-risk youth. Former marine. Big on family, he mentioned his little sister twice. Also tall, dark, and this time, smoldering.”

“I’m seeing a pattern, Wanda.” I rub my temples and lean back on the couch with the file. “Quite the hero, I must say.”

“Could be your hero.”

“Wanda…” I glance down at the names. “You really think they are good matches? For me?”

She raises her nose in the air, as if proud of her work. “Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ve got to raise my standards.” We burst into laughter as Greg strolls into the lodge.

“Hey, ladies.” He walks over, plants a quick kiss on Wanda’s cheek, then hands her a glass of chilled juice. “You tell her yet?” He nods towards me.

Wanda just smirks and sips her drink. “Yeah. I just did.”

“You were in on this, too?” I gape at both of them. “Who else?”

“Of course. How do they say it? ‘Happy wife, happy life’.”

“No one else, I promise. If you don’t include the two guys.” She sits back down on the couch and leans into me. “I know it’s a good idea because my husband agrees.”

“He’d agree to any shit you say, Wanda. And he’s not that smart.”

Greg fakes chest pain while Wanda laughs at my comment. A big part of me wants to resist her offer, but seeing the connection between these two, the other side of me wants to experience something similar.

I exhale slowly and meet Wanda’s face. “Fine. But if it turns out bad, you’ll be to blame.”

She clasps her hands together excitedly. “Deal.”

Greg chuckles, downs his juice, and raises it in a toast. “That’s the spirit.”

A knock on the door interrupts my sarcastic response. “Come in.”

Mrs. Larson quietly enters carrying a heavy blue binder. Thick reading glasses perch on the bridge of her nose as she slowly makes her way over to the couch. Flipping it open she points to a page that needs my signature.

“Now I know that you’re organizing a special event here.” I smile at her and sign off, after which she flips the pages to one marked with a sprig of holly.

“You’ve got the whole lodge, so I’ve scheduled everything to match your timings for events, without interruption.”

I nod in appreciation, my loose bun coming undone and allowing tendrils of my jet-black hair to slip over my shoulders. “Thanks, Ma’am. “

She reaches out and touches my arm with a smile.

“Breakfast is free as long as you can make it from seven to nine when it’s served.

Lunch is at one, and dinner is planned for around seven; except if you’d like to have it pushed for any romantic candlelit dinner.

If that is the case, please let me know the day before.

” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Wanda grins smugly, but chimes in, “That’s great. Remind me again of the activities and their times?”

Mrs. Larson flips another page. “Umm, yes. Sleigh rides for the afternoons, ice skating in the evenings, and there is also a special Christmas tree lighting tomorrow night in town.”

Greg perks up at the sound of that. “Now, that’s where I want to be.”

Mrs. Larson chuckles heartily. “I knew you’d love that. Everyone does. It’s a memorable day around here. This lodge has been around for over thirty years, and I see magic happen every year. Especially up by that lake.”

She closes her binder and takes off her glasses as a dreamy look falls over her face. For a moment, it’s as though she’s transported elsewhere, her lips quirking up happily. But with a quick blink, she comes back to the moment. “If you need anything, be sure to let me know. Anything at all.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I nod.

She turns to go but pokes her head back as soon as she’s out of the door. “Oh, I forgot. There’s a cozy little hot cocoa bar in the lounge. Not the alcohol young people want, but we have unlimited refills.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ll come by soon. I have to stay up, anyway.” The thought of the hot cocoa brings an extra wave of warmth. “Thank you, Mrs. Larson. You’re too kind.”

She nods, then disappears, her footsteps echoing lightly down the hallway and leaving me with the duo who immediately lean in, whispering with mischief twinkling in their eyes.

“Candlelit dinners, huh?” Wanda teases me.

I walk over to the table, shutting my binder with a groan. “Not. One. Word, Wanda.”

Later that evening, I’m going through my emails and replying to prospective clients when my friend plops down beside me.

The couch protests as her legs stretch farther towards the fire while Greg walks in with two mugs of hot cocoa.

He hands one to Wanda with a flourish. “My dear wife,” he proclaims, then sits with us.

I sit up and raise an eyebrow at Wanda. “Okay, I need to ask.”

Wanda tilts her head, sensing the seriousness in my tone, and sits up. “Ask what?”

I motion to Greg, sipping cocoa comfortably like it’s just another Tuesday night at home. “Why is he here again? You know I can’t afford to hire him right?”

Greg almost chokes on his drink, spilling halfway across the couch. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, Nic,” Wanda laughs, catching on to the joke. “It’s Christmas break at the school where he teaches. He insisted this would make a good story for the kids when he asked them how their holidays went. And you know he’s my emotional support clinger.”

“Oh, fuck that!” I drop my phone beside me and straighten my pajamas. “Emotional support or bedroom support?” I tease.

“I’m just saying, every time we go on a work trip, he’s there. Remember last year’s vineyard retreat? Greg. The summer singles we had at the Hamptons? Greg. And now my matchmaking event?” I gesture at him before adding, “Greg.”

Wanda bursts into another round of laughter, slapping her husband’s thighs and snorting while Greg rolls his eyes.

“You’re acting like I don’t carry my weight or contribute. Who fixed the Wi-Fi at the vineyard? Who stopped that guest in the Hamptons from eating a peanut butter cookie, cause I heard him mention an allergy?”

“See, Greg did all that.”

He wraps his arms around Wanda and reaches to touch my shoulder. “Face it, Nicolette, I’m an asset. You just don’t know it yet.”

I grab my phone and snap a cute picture of the two. I can’t help but love them and their sweet relationship. A stirring of longing twists my gut. “You two are ridiculous.”

As if planned, they both raise their mugs and make a toast. “Ridiculously good at what we do.”

“Which is?”

Wanda quips, “Entertaining you, Nic.”

I roll my eyes at them and head to my room, but not before sending them the snap. “No sex on that couch,” I yell over my shoulder.