3. Chapter 3
Chapter three
Bella
I stared at my phone, Sophie’s ten missed calls glaring back at me. In all the excitement, I had forgotten to call her. I tapped the screen to call back.
It barely rang once before Sophie’s voice burst through, high-pitched with worry. “Bella! Finally! Are you okay? How’s the car? I saw the blizzard on the news and–”
“Whoa, slow down!” I laughed, settling onto the worn couch. “I’m fine. Really. The car, though...” I trailed off, picturing my poor sedan buried in a snowbank. “Let’s just say it’s seen better days.”
“Oh no,” Sophie groaned. “Where are you? Were you able to make it to the Lodge? I’ve been so worried.”
I hesitated, then blurted out, “I’m stuck at Devon’s guesthouse.”
The silence lasted approximately half a second before Sophie’s shriek nearly shattered my eardrum. “Devon?! As in, Devon Montgomery, the heartthrob skier? The same guy you used to date?”
“The very same,” I confirmed, rolling my eyes. “And it’s a disaster. We’re stuck here until this storm passes. The tow company said it could be a few days.”
“Bella, this could be fate!” Sophie’s voice took on that dreamy quality I knew all too well. “Snowbound with your high school crush—“
“Ex-crush,” I corrected firmly, ignoring the little flip my stomach did at the thought of Devon. “And trust me, there’s nothing romantic about this situation. It’s awkward, and he was not thrilled to see me here.”
Sophie, undeterred, launched into full manager mode. “Didn’t you say the guesthouse used to be a bed and breakfast? You can decorate it for your magazine interview. Do a whole ‘Snowed-In Survival Guide’ thing for your blog. It’s perfect.”
I glanced around the room, taking in the cobwebbed corners and faded wallpaper. “Soph, I’m not sure this place is ready for a camera crew. It’s... a bit of a wreck.”
“That’s even better!” Sophie insisted. “Show the transformation. You can film DIY crafts, recipes, and home decor tips. Trust me, people love that kind of cozy, real-life content. It’ll be gold!”
As Sophie rattled off ideas, my mind started whirring. She had a point. This could be the perfect opportunity to showcase my skills and save the interview.
“Okay, okay,” I conceded. “But there’s one tiny problem. Devon. He’s not exactly Mr. Christmas Spirit. He… politely requested me to leave as soon as it’s safe, and I think he’s planning a singing telegram in case he didn’t get the message across.”
Sophie scoffed. “Please. If anyone can melt that ice king, it’s you. Now go work your magic!”
I couldn’t help but smile at her unwavering faith in me. “Okay, okay. I’ll try.”
As I hung up, I stared at the bare walls of the guesthouse, my fingers itching to spruce things up. Maybe a pine wreath on that wall, some lights on the mantle. I could do this… I just had to convince Devon.
My phone buzzed again, this time with a message from my sister, Olivia. “Lunch at the lodge tomorrow? Can’t wait to catch up!”
I groaned, remembering I hadn’t told her about my little detour. As I hit the call button, I braced myself for the inevitable sisterly inquisition.
“Hey, sis!” Olivia’s cheerful voice rang out. “Ready for some sister time tomorrow?”
“About that... I might be a little delayed. Or a lot delayed.”
“What? Why?” Olivia’s voice sharpened with concern.
“Well,” I started, picking at a loose thread on the couch. “I’m kind of stuck at Devon Montgomery’s guesthouse.”
The silence stretched so long that I checked to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. Finally, Olivia spoke. “Devon? Your boyfriend from high school? The one who—“
“Yes, that Devon,” I cut her off, not wanting to rehash ancient history. “My car skidded off the road in the storm, and this was the closest shelter.”
“Oh. My. Gosh.” I could practically hear the gears turning in Olivia’s head. “This is like something out of one of those Hallmark movies you always watch!”
I rolled my eyes. “It is so not like that.”
Olivia laughed. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. Remember how you two used to be? The way he’d look at you like you hung the moon?”
“That was a long time ago, Liv,” I sighed, ignoring the little pang in my chest at the memory. “Things are different now. He’s different. If he auditioned for the role of The Grinch, he would be the top contender.”
“Maybe,” Olivia conceded. “Or maybe he just needs a reminder of the Bella he used to know. The one who could light up a room with her smile and turn any disaster into an adventure.”
I snorted. “I think you’re confusing me with a Disney princess.”
“I’m serious,” Olivia insisted. “This could be a great opportunity. Not just for your career but for you. Maybe being stuck there is exactly what you both need.”
I sighed. Arguing with my sister was pointless. “We’ll see. For now, I’m focused on not freezing to death and salvaging my magazine interview.”
“Fine, fine,” Olivia sighed dramatically. “But promise me you’ll keep an open mind. And call me the second anything juicy happens!”
“Goodbye, Olivia,” I said firmly, hanging up before she could start planning my wedding. I tossed my phone aside, shaking my head at my sister’s overactive imagination.
My stomach growled, reminding me that inspiration wouldn’t fill my belly. I rummaged through the cupboards, finding a can of beef ravioli and some corn. I found a can opener and a bowl and popped the ravioli in the microwave. They say food is a way straight to a man’s heart. Well, I think they do, anyway.
My stomach twisted in knots as I heard the front door open. Showtime.
Devon’s tall frame filled the doorway, bringing a gust of cold air and the scent of pine. I plastered on my best smile. “Hey! I hope you like ravioli and corn. It’s gourmet ‘stuck in a storm’ cuisine.”
He grunted, shrugging off his coat. I grabbed our plates and walked over to set them on the table.
Well, here goes nothing. Breathe. Smile. Sound cheery. You’ve got this. “So, I was thinking. What if we decorated the guesthouse for my magazine feature? I could do a whole ‘Snowbound Survival Guide’ series for my blog. You could help me.”
I had this in the bag. Who could resist my charm?? I even threw in my best puppy dog eyes.
Devon sat down in his chair, his broad shoulders hunched as he reached for a fork. “No,” he said flatly.
I blinked, my mouth hanging open. “Just... no?” My hands twisted the dishtowel I held, wringing it like I wished I could wring some enthusiasm out of Devon.
“I came here to escape cameras and noise, Bella,” he said, focusing intently on his ravioli. “You can do whatever you want with your blog but leave me out of it.”
I took a deep breath, willing my voice to stay positive. “I understand you’re upset about the situation, but the magazine feature was my big break for my career. I could use…”
Devon shook his head, cutting me off before I could continue. “I said I’m not helping. This isn’t my thing.”
Frustration bubbled up, but I forced it down. Fine. If Mr. Frosty wanted to play it that way, I’d manage on my own.
“Okay, thanks for hearing me out,” I said, my voice sickly sweet. Two could play at this game.
As we ate in silence, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the boy who used to sneak me into the school gym so that we could dance under the disco ball. Now, he was as welcoming as a grizzly bear with a picnic basket.
“I’m going to check out the attic,” I announced, pushing back from the table and grabbing the flashlight off the counter.
Devon’s head snapped up. “Bella, wait—“
I ignored his warning glance, snatching a flashlight from the kitchen drawer. My boots echoed on the wooden stairs as I made my way up. Cobwebs clung to the rafters, and the musty scent of old memories filled my nose. I sneezed, waving away a cloud of dust.
“Hello, blog content,” I whispered, a grin spreading across my face as I spotted a box labeled ‘Christmas.’
Inside, I found a collection of vintage ornaments. As I lifted out a delicate glass snowflake, I noticed a tiny engraved initial. “M?”
My mind raced with possibilities. Who was M? What stories did these baubles hold? I could already envision the blog posts, weaving tales of holidays past with DIY decoration ideas.
A sudden movement caught my eye. Something small and furry darted across the floor.
I let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, stumbling backward. My elbow knocked the box, and the snowflake slipped from my fingers.
CRASH!
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Devon burst into the attic, eyes wide. “Bella! What happened?”
“A mouse,” I admitted, pointing at the shattered remains. “It startled me, and I... well...”
Devon’s lips twitched. “All this over a mouse? I thought you were hurt.”
My cheeks burned. I wanted to crawl into one of these dusty boxes and hide. “Well, excuse me for not being used to furry roommates,” I shot back.
Devon’s “I’m annoyed, and you aren’t making my life any better” face returned. “Just try not to break anything else.”
He turned to leave, and I felt a childish urge to stick out my tongue at his back. Instead, I took a deep breath. He thinks he’s so cool and collected.
“Okay, Bella,” I muttered to myself, kneeling to gather the shards of the broken ornament. “Time to put on your big girl pants and make this work.”
As I gathered the pieces, my hand brushed something solid. I pulled out a hand-painted wooden nutcracker, its paint chipped but charming.
“Well, hello there,” I murmured, turning it over in my hands. Despite its worn appearance, it was beautifully crafted. For a moment, I wondered about the hands that had made it, the Christmases it had seen.
Shaking off the nostalgia, I dove back into the boxes with renewed determination. Each vintage bead and tarnished ornament I uncovered felt like a small victory. Take that, Devon. I don’t need your help to make this place magical.
But even as I thought it, a small part of me wished he’d stayed. Wished he’d looked at me the way he used to, like I was the most fascinating person in the room. Stop it, Bella. That ship has sailed, hit an iceberg, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
I held up a slightly lopsided star, its silver coating dulled with age. “We’re about to make this place shine so bright it will put Rudolph to shame.”
Humming “Jingle Bells” under my breath, I gathered my treasures and headed downstairs. Devon might not believe in Christmas magic, but I was about to unleash a blizzard of holiday cheer he couldn’t ignore.