Sugarplummed By the Mountain Man (Log Cabin Christmas #20)

Chapter One

Anya

The snow coming down around me gives the illusion I’m inside a snow globe. The fat, fluffy white flakes drift lazily to the ground as they pile up on the road. My trusty all-wheel drive SUV with traction tires has no problem moving toward my destination.

I can’t wait to get to Blossom Grove and see my best friends, Becca and Everlee. It’s been far too long since we’ve gotten to hang out together. We’d been planning to spend Christmas together since the last time we saw each other for an impromptu girls’ weekend at the beach last summer.

Life has taken us in different directions, and though visits are few and far between, we talk and video chat often.

It’s as if no time or distance has passed since we roomed together in college when we do manage to meet up in person.

The fateful random room assignment gave me the two most important women in my life. We were inseparable during those years.

Now, a decade and a half later, life has changed drastically. We’re all older, and I would like to say wiser, but that’s most likely debatable, for me at least. I’ve recently made a major life decision, and I’m afraid of what the girls’ reactions might be when I tell them.

I don’t know why. They’ve always been supportive in the past, but the judgment and disapproval from my parents lingers.

They, on the other hand, have never been happy with or supportive of me, and I don’t know why I expected it now.

It was my own fault for sharing my plan and thinking they might be excited at what it would mean for them.

It seems purposely becoming pregnant without a partner in sight is trashy and uncouth, according to my mother, who still believes she is too young to be a grandmother anyhow.

But I’m not getting any younger, and at thirty-six, my eggs are rapidly dying off with the chances of success becoming less and less each day.

I could freeze my eggs in hopes of meeting someone eventually, but I don’t want to be an old mother who doesn’t have the energy or stamina to keep up with her child.

Thanks to a successful career in marketing, I have a nice nest egg and can easily afford to do this on my own or hire help if I need to.

The longing to carry a child and raise it with all the love it deserves, without conditions, is an ache deep inside me.

I’m positive a therapist would say I want to make up for my own childhood, and they wouldn’t be incorrect.

I want a family where love doesn’t have to be seen as a burden but is given freely just because that’s what family does.

Is that so wrong?

I’m afraid of what the answer might be, so I have been studiously avoiding sharing the news too freely.

Especially after the debacle with my parents at Thanksgiving.

I know deep down Becca and Everlee will be happy for me, though.

I need to shake off the persistent doubt Ronald and Jane so easily planted.

This is a happy occasion, and my friends will celebrate with me.

That is if I ever get there. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts I haven’t been paying as much attention to the road as I should’ve been.

The snow is now quite deep, and it’s been a long while since I’ve passed any other motorists, or even houses, as my car steadily climbs the mountain road.

Glancing at the clock on the dash, I see it’s only just past mid-afternoon but dusk is already falling.

From the directions Becca gave me, I should be getting close to her new home at Blossom Grove, the apple orchard she has taken over after her grandfather passed. When did I pass the turnoff for Coyote Creek? I don’t quite recall.

I curse myself for not paying more attention to where I was going instead of getting lost in thought, which might very well have landed me lost in reality.

My car continues to creep forward, but I’m not sure how much farther I should keep going.

The snow is only getting deeper, and I don’t want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere and freeze to death.

I’m just about ready to attempt to turn around without getting stuck when a house appears on my right. It’s tucked into the trees with a short driveway. I stop in the middle of the road, not worried about getting hit because there’s no one else crazy enough to be out in this weather.

I debate stopping to ask for directions because I don’t want to get lost more than I already am.

The little log cabin looks so cozy and inviting with smoke curling from the chimney, but it’s the Christmas lights and decorations on the front porch that clinch my decision.

Surely anyone who decorates so nicely for Christmas couldn’t be some type of criminal who would take advantage of a lost motorist in a snowstorm.

Decision made, I ease my foot on the gas and turn down the driveway toward the cabin.