Page 22 of The Mistletoe Makeover

Mia bites down on her smile.

I frown, not seeing the humor. “Why are you happy about this?”

“Because that guy didn’t believe you were Jace Knight. Guess the joke’s on him.”

“Except we’re still stuck. And we can’t wait here all day.” The temperatures have already dropped ten degrees since we left Maplewood, and the snow is only getting worse.

I knew this was a bad idea. I should’ve listened to my gut and stayed home.

She opens her maps app. “There’s a motel only a half mile from here. If we walk there, we can wait in the lobby until a tow truck arrives.”

I don’t like that option, but it’s the only choice we have right now. The motel will have heat, and I can buy something from the vending machine before my stomach consumes itself.

Mia props open her door and swings her legs out.

I nod toward her useless dress boots. “Are you sure you can walk that far in those?”

“Of course I can,” she says, jutting out her chin. She climbs out and takes two steps before slipping in the snow and falling to her knees.

“I’m okay!” she squeaks, popping back up and wiping herself off.

“Those boots won’t keep your feet warm for ten minutes.”

She puts a hand on her hip. “It’s not like I expected to get stranded today.”

I hold out my hand, offering help. She stares at it like I’m holding fire.

“Why are you not accepting my help?” I know she doesn’t like me, but I didn’t think she’d be so obstinate.

“Because I don’t need it.” She attempts to take another step and slips again. This is not going well for her.

I cross my arms, stifling a laugh.

She frowns. “Stop laughing. It’snotfunny.”

“You know what’s funny? Refusing to accept my help because you want to prove you can walk in those ridiculous boots. But if that’s what you want, be my guest.”

She glances at her boots and takes another step.

I walk away, just as she slips and falls again.

She punches the snow. “Okay, fine,” she growls.

I turn back with an amused grin.

“Are you going to rub it in or help me?” she says, annoyed.

“I’m waiting for you to say please.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please.”

I step forward and put my hand out.

As she hangs on to me, her feet slip in the snow, forcing me to wrap my hand around her waist to keep her upright. The warmth of her body and the soft curve of her waist are distracting.

“Thanks,” she murmurs as soon as she reaches the road. “I think I can stay upright now.”

“So, where is this motel?” I ask. “From here, it looks like we’re in the middle of the forest.”

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