Snowbound With My Grumpy Ex (Sweet Christmas Kisses)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Bella

" B eing a weather forecaster has to be the only job that you can get wrong over and over and still keep your job,” I yelled to no one in particular. This blizzard had not been on the radar.

My windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the relentless snowfall. I leaned forward, my nose nearly touching the glass as if those extra inches would magically clear my view. My little blue hatchback inched along the road, tires crunching through fresh powder.

“Oh, sugar plum fairies,” the expletive burst from my lips. “I’ve got a lodge to transform and a magazine feature to nail. At this rate, I’d get there faster by dog sled.”

The mental image of the transformed lodge—all twinkling lights and Pinterest-worthy decorations—was so vivid I could almost smell the cinnamon and pine. My fingers itched to get my hands on my sketchpad. If all goes well, this would be my big break into the world of print magazines.

A sudden “woof” from the backseat nearly sent me through the roof. I glanced in the rearview mirror to see Maple, my golden retriever, and partner-in-crime, with her tongue lolling out as she pressed her nose against the window.

The car lurched, and my stomach somersaulted. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

“We’re almost there,” I lied through gritted teeth, more to myself than to Maple. “Just a little further, and we’ll be sipping hot cocoa by a roaring fire, planning how to turn that old lodge into a Christmas miracle that’ll knock the socks off the magazine interviewer.”

I tried to focus on the road, but my mind drifted to Devon. I couldn’t help it, driving this close to the places where we’d spent so much time together. What if I ran into him? Would he still have that infuriating scowl that somehow made him more attractive? The last time we spoke, he’d been all frowns and grunts as if smiling would somehow ruin his reputation.

I leaned forward again, straining to see through the whiteout conditions. The road ahead was completely obscured. My heart raced as I realized just how dangerous this was becoming.

I chewed my lower lip, which was already raw, but I couldn’t stop. “What do you think, Maple? Should we push through or play it safe?”

Maple responded with a sneeze that fogged up the back window.

I don’t even know why I asked the question. It wasn’t like we had the option to play it safe. Nothing was around, and we would likely freeze in the car if I pulled over. I was about to have a full-on panic attack.

My phone buzzed, and I couldn’t press “answer” quickly enough. I needed something to calm me down, even if it was just the soothing sound of my blog-manager-slash-best-friend’s voice.

“Bella!” Sophie’s voice exploded through the speakers before I could even say hello. “Hold onto your color-coordinated throw pillows because I’ve got news that’ll make your tinsel tingle!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Sophie was always in high gear. “Whoa, slow down there, caffeine queen. What’s got you bouncing off the walls this time?”

“The editor confirmed the Christmas Day interview. This is it, Bella! Your one-way ticket to design stardom.”

My heart felt like it was beating a hundred miles an hour. “Sophie, please tell me you’re not kidding me. If you are, I swear I’ll replace all your coffee with decaf for a month.”

We shared a moment of high-pitched squealing that probably had dogs in the next county covering their ears. I could practically see Sophie’s wild curls bouncing as she no doubt performed her patented “good news dance.”.

“Okay, okay,” I finally managed, trying to catch my breath. “Spill it, sister. What exactly did they say? And use small words because my brain is currently doing cartwheels.”

As Sophie rattled off the details—national coverage, a monthly feature—my mind raced with possibilities. This interview could take my blog to the next level, and I’d be able to showcase my designs to a whole new audience.

“Bella? You still there?”

I blinked, realizing I’d zoned out. “Sorry, I’m just processing. This all feels like a dream.”

“Trust me, honey, if this were a dream, Ryan Reynolds would deliver the news shirtless,” Sophie laughed. “Now go make that lodge look so spectacular it’ll put the North Pole to shame. I expect a full report tomorrow, and it better include at least three ‘OM—“

The line went dead, but nothing could take me off cloud nine. I refused to let a little snow—or a lot—hinder my mood. I blasted the volume on my Christmas playlist. Maple tilted her head to the side, staring at the radio.

“Sorry, girl,” I grinned at her in the rearview mirror. “But we’ve got work to do, and I need some inspiration.”

I was so caught up in mentally rearranging furniture to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” that I almost didn’t notice the car starting to slide. The steering wheel jerked in my hands. My stomach dropped as the car spun out of control.

“No, no, no!” I wrestled with the wheel. The world spun in a dizzying blur of white as a massive tree trunk filled my vision.

CRUNCH.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. As I turned the key in the ignition, the smell of burnt rubber and burnt oil filled my nose. The engine sputtered weakly, then died.

“Great. Just great.” I slammed my palm against the steering wheel, immediately regretting it as pain shot up my arm. “Ow! Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now I’ll have a bruise to match my wounded pride.”

My hands trembled as I unbuckled my seatbelt. So much for my picture-perfect Christmas plans. Sophie was going to freak out when she heard about this.

I fumbled for my phone, praying for a signal. The “No Service” message glared back at me.

“Of course,” I huffed, tossing it onto the passenger seat with all the grace of a disgruntled toddler. “Because why would anything be easy?”

Maple’s concerned whine from the backseat made me feel even worse. I reached back to scratch her ears, feeling like the world’s worst dog mom. “Mama’s just having a bit of a meltdown. Don’t worry. I’m sure this is all part of some grand cosmic plan. Probably. Maybe. Oh man, we’re doomed.”

I stared out at the swirling snow, trying to keep myself from spiraling. Think. We couldn’t stay here. That much was clear. The lodge was still miles away and in this weather...

Then it hit me. Devon’s family guesthouse. It wasn’t far from here, maybe a mile. Two at most. My stomach clenched at the thought of seeing my ex again, but what choice did I have?

“Come on, Maple,” I said, reaching for my coat and trying to ignore the little sign in my head that was flashing “bad idea!” in neon letters. “Let’s go find some shelter.”

As I zipped up my coat, I couldn’t help but wonder what Devon would say when he saw me. Would he be angry? Indifferent? Would he be there at all? Word through the grapevine was that he rarely returned to Serenity Falls.

I shook my head, trying to focus. “One problem at a time, Bella.”

I turned to Maple, who was looking at me expectantly, her fur already dusted with snow that had blown in through the open door. “Ready for a walk, girl?”

Maple jumped out of the car and dashed ahead, her paws kicking up snow as she blazed a trail. Meanwhile, I lumbered along behind, lugging my suitcase. It thudded against my legs with every step, serving as a not-so-gentle reminder that the universe had a twisted sense of humor.

After what felt like hours of struggling through the snow, the guesthouse finally came into view. My heart skipped a beat. The two-story house stood solidly against the snowy backdrop, its red brick faded and the windows dark and uninviting.

“Oh, Devon,” I whispered, taking in the sight. The old twisted tree in the yard, bare of leaves and covered in snow, looked like it was auditioning for a Tim Burton movie. The place looked less like a “charming country getaway” and more like a “setting for a horror movie.”

I brushed the snow off my coat, trying to muster some optimism. “Well, it’s not the lodge, but it’ll have to do. Just think of it as... extreme glamping.”

Maple whined, pawing at the front door and staring at me with the saddest puppy dog eyes ever.

“I know you want to get out of the snow. Let’s see if I remember where they kept the spare key.”

I searched around the porch, lifting rocks and checking under the welcome mat. Nothing. I was about to give up when my fingers brushed against something cold and metallic under a large stone by the steps.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, holding up the key. I inserted it into the lock and wondered what I’d find inside.

The door creaked open, revealing a dark, musty interior. I stepped in, the floorboards groaning under my weight. Dust swirled around me, making me sneeze.

“Bless you,” I said to myself because someone had to. “All right, Maple, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

I fumbled for the light switch, but there was no power. Of course not. That would be far too convenient. I pulled out my phone and used its flashlight to navigate the space. The beam caught on sheet-covered furniture and walls adorned with faded photos.

"Home sweet home," I said dryly, my voice echoing in the empty room. "At least for tonight. Try to contain your excitement, Maple." Maple wagged her tail and sniffed around the room with genuine interest. At least one of us was maintaining a positive attitude.

I checked my phone again—two bars. Not great, but it would do. I fired off a quick text to Sophie: “Car crashed. I’m fine. Call you tomorrow.” As I hit send, my mind wandered to Devon. The last time we’d spoken... well, ‘spoken’ was a generous term for the terse exchange we’d had. It was more like a competitive sport of who could say the least while implying the most.

I shook my head, trying to focus on the present. "Alright, Bella," I said aloud, because talking to yourself is totally normal when you're stranded in your ex's abandoned guesthouse. “You’ve got bigger problems right now. Like not freezing to death.”

I rummaged through my suitcase and changed into a warm, cozy sweater and fuzzy socks. I felt a bit better, but the chill of the house still seeped into my bones.

The living room couch looked inviting despite its age and the layer of dust that had accumulated on it. I curled up under a musty blanket, Maple settling at my feet with a contented sigh.

As I lay there, I couldn't stop thinking about Devon—his intense focus on skiing and the countless competitions that took precedence over our relationship. I wondered what he would say if he knew I was here—or if he would even care."

“Tomorrow’s problem,” I murmured, closing my heavy eyelids. “Tonight, we sleep.”

With that, I drifted off, imagining the howling wind outside as the world’s least soothing white noise machine.