Snowed in for the Holidays

Chapter 1 A Groot Christmas

A GROOT CHRISTMAS

I killed Bambi.

Okay, maybe ‘killed’ is dramatic, but tell that to Rudolph, whose nose is now covered in bright red blood. I was only going seventy miles per hour in a sixty-five zone. With a five-mile difference, it is not my fault the deer decided to audition for roadkill tonight.

All I wanted was a cozy night of reality TV while I packed for my big move.

But no. I had to drive thirty minutes out of the city after getting an email from .

The best house-sitting gig site in the entire world in my opinion.

The only reason I have been able to pay my bills for the last five years.

Two weeks ago, I applied for a couple of jobs and finally got a call back. Two days before Christmas. Five thousand dollars for two nights. All I have to do is sit in a house. Yes please. I already received half of the payment for completing the interview process and accepting the job.

I guess I got too excited on the way here. Now I am stuck with a big dent in my bumper. I can’t blame anyone but myself.

On the way here, my neighbor Jaelin texted me pictures from our apartment complex’s annual Christmas party. My head was down for only two seconds.

Boom. My car sent that deer straight to heaven’s gates.

Now I might be late. I’m supposed to be there in five minutes. The email was very clear that I needed to arrive at 10:10. Weird, but I assumed they were into angel numbers or whatever.

I glance at my dashboard and check the GPS.

I am only three minutes from the house I am supposed to be sitting.

A block and a half away. It would not be too bad if it were not forty-seven degrees outside.

I have lived in Louisiana my whole life.

Anything below sixty-five means we shut down the whole city and stay inside.

I have two options:

1) Wait for the tow truck and risk losing this money

2) Walk in the freezing cold for a few minutes.

Grabbing my coat and hat, I step out of my car. I will call the tow truck once I am settled. Locking the doors behind me, I start my icy journey and pray I do not slip on the way.

“Okay, that’s all of it. Any questions?” Ms. Greta says with an annoyed expression.

I uncross my arms, taking in what would be my new home for the next two days. After trudging through two feet of snow, all I want is to collapse on something soft and expensive.

Ms. Greta has been side-eyeing me since I walked in. I was two minutes late. She should be glad I even showed up. My legs were half-frozen by the time I got here.

When I applied for this house-sitting job, I didn’t even read the description. The pay range was “disclosed,” which usually means it’s either insultingly low or unbelievably high. I prayed for the latter.

And somehow, it worked.

This is a literal Christmas miracle. I expected a nice townhouse. Instead, I’m standing inside a castle decked out in Christmas décor, twinkling lights, and Black Santas in every corner. I feel instantly at home.

“The only question I have,” I say, a little out of breath, “is why Mr. and Mrs. Oakley aren’t here?”

“It doesn’t matter why they are not here.”

“Just making conversation,” I mumble.

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “They’re celebrating their second wedding anniversary in Cancún. Somewhere I would be if I didn’t have to babysit house sitters. Any more questions?”

Her bitterness could freeze the snow outside.

“No other questions,” I say quickly. “Thanks for the tour. I promise to keep everything exactly the same. You won’t even know I was here.”

“You’d better,” she says, turning toward me. “We don’t want any thugs ruining the Christmas spirit—or robbing us.”

Did she just call me a thug? I’m wearing a red Christmas sweater with a reindeer on it and black leggings. If that’s threatening, that’s her problem.

“Mhm.” I bite my tongue so hard I taste regret.

Ms. Greta—or as I like to call her, Ms. Grinch—has been a nightmare since day one.

I’m pretty sure she’s the reason they ran my background check twice.

She was probably annoyed I got the job. Maybe I was the only one who was available.

I don’t care about the reasoning. I am glad I am here and I hope she chokes on coal.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax.

For the next two days, I’ll be living luxuriously in a six-bedroom house with a hot tub and unlimited Wi-Fi.

Christmas heaven. I’ve always loved the holiday…

..the carols, the baking, the sparkle of lights.

If there was a place where it was Christmas every day, I’d move there in a heartbeat.

Growing up in the Snow household, Christmas was just another “shitty day covered in sparkles,” according to my dad. Last year, they didn’t even bother putting up a tree. I never understood how I came from people so allergic to joy.

But this year is different. This is my last Christmas in Louisiana. I’m going out big. By January 1st, I’ll be in Italy, studying art at John Cabot University. I can already smell the arancini.

All I have to do is not screw this up. The Oakleys already paid me two grand upfront and will send another three after Christmas Day. Five thousand dollars for two days of luxury. If that’s not divine favor, I don’t know what is.

People like Ms. Grinch just need a little holiday cheer—or maybe a nice candy cane sized dick.

“Are you doing anything for the holidays?” I ask her.

She sighs. “No. I’ll be in the office. Here.” She hands me a folder. “House rules, my number, the alarm code, and a credit card for food and emergencies.”

An Amex. My eyes widen. I’ve never seen one in person. How rich are these people?

“Don’t get too happy,” she says sharply. “I’ll be monitoring everything—including the outdoor cameras.”

“There aren’t any inside, right?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Oakley value privacy. They don’t like to feel watched in their own home.”

“Got it.” I am barely holding in my excitement. Too bad, because if she stays a minute longer, she’ll get a show.

“Alright. I’ll leave you to it.” Her heels click across the marble as she reaches the door, giving me one last glare.

I smile sweetly and wave. “Merry Christmas!”

The moment the door shuts, I dial my best friend.

“Is the Grinch gone?” Dayana answers immediately.

“Yes. Two zoom interviews, two background checks, walking in the snow after hitting a deer and all my nails bitten off—but I got it.”

“Wait, you hit a deer?”

“Yeah. It came out of nowhere. I was planning to sell that car before I left anyway.”

“Good thing that death trap’s done for. You should be ashamed for keeping it this long,” she says, kissing her teeth.

Rolling my eyes, I flip the camera to give her a tour. “Look at this place.”

“GIRL. This is nice.” Day says in her best Tiffany Hiddard voice. “I’m proud of you—living the dream!”

“It’s not real yet, but in few years, it will be. I’ll be a famous artist—or at least teaching art classes.”

“Manifest it,” she says.

I walk into the kitchen and nearly scream. Two stoves, two ovens, two of everything. The entire space looks like it belongs in Architectural Digest. Greta only gave me a quick tour, I didn’t get a chance to look around and take it all in.

“Can you see me cooking in here?” I grab a pan and pretend to flip pancakes.

Dayana laughs. “Look at you, Martha Stewart! I wish I was there.”

“I wish you were too, but you and Aidan had to go play Snowbound Lovers.”

In the last two years, our duo turned into a trio—and honestly, I’ve never felt like a third wheel.

I can’t say the same for Aidan, though. Dayana once told him that if she could combine his dick and tongue into me, she’d leave him in a heartbeat.

He laughed, grabbed her by the neck, and whispered something in her ear.

To this day, I have no clue what he said, but I know she couldn’t walk straight for our girls’ night. Must be nice.

Having Aidan around did come with some perks, though—like free gas. His parents own a few of the gas stations near my apartment, so I honestly couldn’t tell you what gas costs right now. I smile, wave, and fill up.

“Girl, he woke me up at five a.m. to drive seven hours through the woods,” Dayana groans. “If a bear eats me, tell my mama I fought.”

“You’re so dramatic.” I laugh, imagining her out in the woods.

I don’t know what made Aidan think taking her into the forest was a bright idea. It’s cute that he wants to plan a little getaway to finally propose to her crazy butt—but while she’s out there yelling and complaining, she better still say yes.

“I’m too Black for this. Anyway, show me the bedroom where your back’s gonna get blown out!”

“Sadly, no one’s breaking my back. I’ve got rules.” I pull out the paper labeled House Rules.

No loud music.

No guests.

Keep the house clean.

Don’t move anything.

Don’t steal.

“She’s a whole villain.”

Dayana cackles. “What’s her name again? Gina?”

“Greta,” I mumble.

“Chile, that’s why she’s a Grinch. I’d be too if my mama named me after a walking tree.”

“You mean Groot from Marvel. Girl, you’re stupid,” I holler, laughing so hard I almost drop my phone.

“Same difference.” She smirks, her lip tugging to the side.

“She will not suck the Christmas out of me,” I say, clapping my hands for emphasis. “I have plans: Home Alone, Almost Christmas, The Best Man Holiday, Last Holiday—I always cry when Queen Latifah realizes she’s not dying—and I’ll finish with This Christmas while eating cookies and drinking cocoa.”

“All in two days?”

“Oh no, that’s just day one.”

“Chile… you are Santa’s little elf crazy,” she says. “But at least you’re safe. I heard a storm’s coming over there. ”

“In Baton Rouge? Girl, bye. It’s been snowing, but by tomorrow morning, everything will melt. You remember a couple years ago. We barely had three hours of snow before it was nothing but muddy grass.”

“Our meteorologist—Dawson Raine, with his fine self—said otherwise.”

“Thank God he’s engaged because I think you would actually use that hall pass if he wasn’t.”

“And I will because that man is fine.”

Dayana’s always had a weakness for men with glasses. She once told me a homeless man looked like Morris Chestnut, and I’ve never recovered.

It’s not like I can judge. I’ve been the rebound more times than I can count. My last situationship swore she wasn’t ready for commitment—then found her forever love a month later. Typical. I promised myself never again.

The sound of kissing snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Day, really?”

“What’s up, Sutton?” Aidan says, not even looking at the phone.

“Alright, love you, proud of you—” she moans mid-sentence. “Gotta go!”

“I bet. Love you too,” I say, hanging up. I got to charge my phone anyways. It’s on 5%.

My stomach growls. But first food. I haven’t eaten since last night’s PB&J.

The ‘fridge’ turns out to be a walk-in cooler. Of course. I open the next one—organic greens, chia seeds, bottled water. Rich people really are another species.

I grab my phone and open my delivery app. A few snacks, ingredients for Christmas cookies…

Total: $500.

Pulling out the folder, I smile at my new best friend—the black Amex.

“This holiday,” I say, typing in the numbers, “I’m living like a queen.”

Purchase confirmed.