Page 30 of The Mistletoe Makeover

“Are you ready for lights out?” he asks, dressed in the same jeans and shirt he wore earlier since he has no other clothes. I’m letting my outfit air dry overnight, which is convenient since that means I get to wear Jace’s shirt longer. The cotton is so luxuriously soft, it’s like I’m swaddled with a herd of alpacas. I can only imagine the exorbitant cost and how many women would sacrifice their firstborn children to be in my place.

“Ready when you are!” I say as he settles on the carpet.

I peer over the edge of the mattress. “I wouldn’t sleep on... that.” I point at the duct tape and the mysterious brown stain nearby.

“Uh, maybe I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“You mean the chair that’s about to fall apart next to the frosty window? I can’t let you do that.” I peel off a thin, white blanket from the bed. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.

“Don’t you need it?” he asks, taking it.

“I still have this.” I point to a dubious-looking comforter.

Jace shakes his head. “You keep the blanket. I’ll use my jacket. Does it seem cold in here?”

“Yes,” I say, relieved. “I didn’t mention it because I thought you liked to sleep in an igloo.”

Jace pushes a few buttons on the heating unit and nothing happens. Then he bangs his fist against the side. Still nothing.

“No wonder it’s cold. The heater is broken.”

“I’ll call Edith.” I pick up the ancient-looking landline. There’s no tone, so I punch a few buttons to see if I can magically revive it. “It’s dead. This reallyislike a horror film,” I groan, slamming the receiver down. “Haven’t you noticed that in every horror movie, the phones never work? And with no way to contact the police, we’re dead.”

Jace’s eyes fall to my cell phone. “Except we have modern technology, as well as one other key difference.”

“What’s that?”

“We aren’t stupid. Haven’t you noticed how movie characters always do the exactoppositeof what they should? Like,Let’s go into this creepy old shed where all these saws and sharp tools are...and bam! They get axed.Stupid people do stupid things. But we are not that stupid.”

“So maybe Edith is trying a different approach and freezing us to death?”

“This isn’t exactly the Ritz.” Jace glances out the window. “Looks like the front desk is closed. The chance of someone repairing this tonight in a snowstorm is probably zero. Maybe it will come back on during the night.”

“And if it doesn’t?” I ask, wondering how cold this room will get and whether this is the last time I’ll feel my toes before they’re amputated from frostbite.

Jace shrugs. “We hunker down until morning.”

This has gone from bad to worse. Not only am I stranded at a creepy motel, I’m now going to freeze. “This reminds me of the time I camped out with my brothers in the backyard and the temperature dipped below freezing. We were determined to stay outside. So we climbed into one sleeping bag.”

Jace frowns. “How did you do that?”

“My brothers were six and I was eight, so we all fit inside like a burrito grande. And boys are like little ovens, so we survived.”

“We’re not going to die tonight, either. Promise.”

“Well, you’re a lot bigger than me,” I say. “I’ll be an icicle by morning.”

Jace pauses, then looks through his bag, pulling out two rectangular packages. “Try this.” He tosses them on the bed.

“What are these?”

“Heat warmer packs. I bought them when I had an outdoor concert this fall so I could warm my fingers before playing guitar. But I forgot to use them.”

I shake my head. “I can’t take both. You don’t have any covers.”

He pulls the thin blanket up to his shoulders, but it’s too short to cover his feet at the same time. “I’m bigger than you. Like a little oven.”

“Or not so little,” I say, unwrapping one of the heat packs. I nod toward his exposed socks. “Your toes are going to freeze.”

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