All Madison wants for Christmas is the same person who once wanted her. Free from the shackles of her broken heart, she's finally ready to give love another shot. But is Madi too late to win back the man of her dreams?
SEQUEL to The Heartbreak Hypot...
I'd hoped that I wouldn't have to do this. Pull a grand farewell Lost-in-Translation-style. But, still, I was sure that Skip and I were putting Bob and Charlotte to shame.
He began to mumble under my touch, and I tentatively removed my finger from his mouth. God, I really hoped that he took defeat lying down. Because if plan A didn't work, I didn't have a plan B.
But I did have one mean upper-cut.
After a second of silent contemplation, the sweet, dashing cowboy threw me a solid nod. "It's probably for the best. My marriage is hanging by a thread as it is."
I waited for the ball to drop. I waited for his trademark grin to tug at his features, for some sign that, like me, Skip's crutch in awkward situations was sarcasm—and of the incredibly inappropriate kind.
But that sign never came. And, like irony, I had a feeling that Skip was too plain a person for something as impish and immature as dry wit.
So, that was gross.
And also, very un-Hallmark like.
But who was I to judge? I had used him as a chauffeur and a bellhop in less than a five-hour-period.
I felt my cheeks burn as I turned away in a hurry, leading him out the door with plans to head back down to the foyer. I don't know why I was in such a rush; it wasn't like things could get more awkward.
At least, that's what I thought.
Because after rounding out of that solid wooden door, I crashed right into an incredibly amused James Bennet.
And if that insolent smirk on his chiseled face was any indication, James had—you guessed it—heard everything.
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
By the time we waved Skip off, the fiery sky had settled into the promise of night. Mellow lights flickered on in some of the neighboring chalets around us. My friends and I changed into something more winter-appropriate, and I found a spare five minutes to loosely curl the golden bangs around my face.
"Do you guys stay in the cabins every year?" I asked as we dashed across the snow, headed for the grand hotel that sat in the center.
"Every year," Dex confirmed, returning the wave of a maître d outside of a cozy, bustling restaurant. "Since we were—what, twelve?" James nodded behind him. "We used to stay at the hotel before that, but when Noah's family and my aunts and cousins started coming, it just made more sense to book out the cabins."
"Book them out?" I repeated incredulously. With Noah's eight brothers and sisters, I could understand why. But it was still one of the most outrageous things I thought I'd heard all day.
Dex waved a hand like it was nothing, nodding to a store owner packing up for the day. "Just the three-story ones by the Western peak."
