The Mountain Man’s Naughty List (Grumpy Mountain Man Christmas #18)
Chapter 1
Chapter one
Outside my bedroom window, the fading daylight drapes our little town of Passion Pines in violet. Snow dusts the rugged mountains in the distance like sugar, but the beautiful scenery does nothing to stop my stomach from flipping.
“I don’t know why I was even included in this thing,” I grumble, plunking down on my bed. My laptop hums beside me on my nightstand. Looks like the firmware update for the latest version of my Summit Sentinel Pager project hasn’t finished yet.
I yank my left boot on, fumbling in frustration. “When was the last time you were invited to anything by mail?” I glance at the cream-colored envelope on my dresser, and it feels like the damn Mistletoe Gala invitation is laughing at me.
Lauren Brooks, my roommate, stands in the doorway, already dressed for the event in a dark red sweater dress that hugs her slim figure. Her hair is pinned up in a messy bun and a few auburn curls frame her freckled face. She avoids my gaze, letting out a dramatic sigh.
“I hate to tell you.” She starts biting her lower lip. “Never mind, I’m not even sure if it’s true.” She spins on her heels and heads out my door, obviously chickening out.
“Hold up!” I wrestle my other boot on and scramble to my feet, nearly tripping over a USB cable coiled on the rug. I dart into the narrow hallway, and take hold of her wrist as she reaches the living room where the air still smells like fresh balsam and sap from our Christmas tree.
“What are you hiding?” I beg, spinning her to face me.
“I really don’t enjoy being put on the spot like this, Winter,” she whispers as if the neighbors could hear her. “But …” She trails off, fidgeting with her scarf.
“But what?” I plead, stepping closer. “Tell me. What?”
Lauren swallows hard, and stares up at the exposed beams of the ceiling, as if the answer’s carved up there. “There’s a rumor going around that you’re on the naughty list.”
It takes a second to process the words. “Me?” I squeal, jabbing a finger at my chest. “I’m on the naughty list? That’s what you’re telling me?” In this tiny town of nosy knitters and pie-baking gossips? My free hand flies to my hip, and I can feel my cheeks flushing.
Lauren’s mouth flattens into a rigid line, with no hint of a smile. My heart sinks as she slowly nods. “Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p’ nervously, and pushes her glasses higher up her nose.
“Those old biddies picked me?” I sputter, picturing our community’s self-appointed committee of all that is festive, especially Mrs. Helmsley with her pearl earrings and clipboard, whispering over tea at the Grizzly Grind.
My hands flail, knocking a stray pen off the hallway table.
“What did I even do? Code a virus? Hack the town’s Christmas lights? ” I’m half-laughing and half-panicking.
Lauren shrugs, trying to keep a straight face.
“Look at the bright side; there are four other people on the list with you, so at least you won’t be alone up there on stage.
” I wait for more, but she only folds her arms and gawks at me in silence.
I groan, rubbing my temples. “Maybe it has something to do with your dating habits,” she offers meekly.
“It’s not like I was sleeping with all of them. And even if I did, it’s a free world. Seriously?” I pace the room, thinking back to my last string of dates. Sure, some of the guys weren’t too thrilled about not seeing me again, but I never lied, or led anyone on.
I turn back to Lauren and blow out a long breath.
I want to find my one and only, have a big family, and my biological clock is counting down.
At thirty-three, I’m not in a panic, but I need to get moving.
“Am I expected to keep dating someone I know won’t work out long term?
That only makes breaking up worse. There is absolutely no reason for me to wind up on that ridiculous list.”
“Maybe you’re right and I’m wrong.” She forces a cheery smile. “There’s only one way to find out. The gala’s starting in twenty minutes. Go grab that fancy envelope and let’s go.” She pivots toward the front door and grabs her parka off the peg.
I hesitate, glancing behind me and then at Lauren, who’s now tugging on her mittens.
“Fine. Okay, fine.” I march down the hall to my bedroom and snatch the dang invitation. Let’s get this over with.
***
Tanner
The aroma of Mom’s rosemary-roasted chicken mixes with the pine from a wreath swaying above the dining room’s archway. The table is loaded with half-empty serving dishes and a stack of mismatched plates. Everyone is here: Mom, my five brothers, Zephyr’s fiancé and Slade’s new wife.
The Mistletoe Gala at City Hall starts at seven, and the news I’ve been dreading is tough to swallow. “Told you,” Creed, who’s four years older than me, murmurs softly, his calloused fingers trace the rim of his coffee mug. “Sorry, brother.”
“We tried to warn you,” Slade chimes in, leaning back in his creaking chair, with one arm slung casually around Eva’s shoulders. She nods solemnly, twirling her fork.
I grip my napkin and meet Mom’s stare over the bowl of peas. “You’re positive I made the list?” She frowns without flinching. “Are you sure?”
“That’s why I wanted us all here for dinner, sweetie.” She reaches, brushes a crumb off the tablecloth and rests her hand on mine. “I thought a family meal might make things easier for you. But it’ll be fine, honey. Nobody’s going to make a big scene.”
“Well thanks, but it doesn’t feel fine,” I sigh, trying not to think about standing on stage at City Hall with everyone in town staring at me.
I know Mom means well. I’m positive she asked all of us to dinner because she’s worried I’ll have a break down or something.
I’ve been battling PTSD since I got back from Afghanistan.
I haven’t seen my therapist in a while, but I’ve been managing on my own.
“Being on the town’s naughty list is all in good fun, just like the other events.
” Mom insists with a big grin. She’s still thrilled about finally taking first place in the pumpkin pie baking contest last month.
“If you’re called up, it only means they’ll give you something to do to help Passion Pines, that’s all. ”
“Yeah,” Zephyr adds. A pitying smile breaks through his scruffy beard as he rests an elbow on the table. “We’ll all be there to back you up.”
“So, you’ll accept the award with grace,” Sierra, Zephyr’s fiancé, waves her hand as if swatting a fly. “Just shrug it off like it’s no big deal, wave to the crowd, and slip out. The ceremony will be over in an hour, and you can forget it ever happened.”
“Unless they make you pave a road or fix the Mountain Mercantile’s freezer,” Creed deadpans. “That thing’s been glitching all month.”
“Now, let’s not stress over what-ifs,” Mom cuts in, sliding out of her chair with a soft scrape against the hardwood. She takes her apron off and hangs it on the back of her chair. “Come on, we’d better get moving if we want to find a table.”
My brothers, Sierra and Eva, rise from their chairs.
I take a quick look at the gala invitation next to my coaster and grab it. I guess it’s time to face the music.