Page 3 of Mistletoe Kisses

Keaton looked startled. “Seriously?”

“But we’ve got to set a budget and parameters.” I didn’t want Keaton to go wild and blow his severance on me. Or book me a terrible place to stay.

Horrifying memories about the road trip from hell flooded my mind. “And no bed-bug-infested roach motels either. It’s gotta have at least a three-star rating.”

Keaton dropped his head back against the couch. “I said I was sorry! How many times do we have to relive that?”

Apologies didn’t erase the emotional scars of eradicating the bed bugs infesting my car. “As many times as it takes to make sure you don’t book us in a place with mattresses directly on the stained carpet. It was like a serial killer’s grab-and-go for victims.”

“I promise I’ll book you somewhere with a bedframe.”

“Andno bed bugs.” I shivered. “Deal?” I held out my hand.

Keaton shook it and grinned. There was a calculating gleam in his eye that should’ve had me backing out, but the liquid courage made me confident it would be fine. “Deal.”

The tequila helped me make quick decisions. I knew if I put it off until tomorrow, I’d get bogged down by planning and trying to make the most perfect trip possible. I wanted to take advantage of the Travel Tuesday deals and send Keaton as far from the snow as possible. He deserved a nice vacation.

As I escaped to my room and settled on my bed with my laptop and a much-needed glass of water, I began searching for reasonable flights to places with nice winters. The Arizona desert would be perfect.

While I price-checked options around the state, my mind speculated over what Keaton would book for me. Maybe somewhere with great museums and libraries. I would love a few days of wandering around quiet places. Maybe this harebrained idea would be just what we both needed.

Chapter1

Arlo

The past twoweeks had been a whirlwind. I’d worked until the last possible moment, writing up documentation for my job and the tasks I often did for others. It felt like I’d blinked, and it was time for the trip Keaton had planned for me.

My GPS announced I’d arrived at the Dollia Springs B&B in Dahlia Springs. I didn’t understand the B&B name, but the house seemed nice. The stately Victorian home stood at the center of a cul-de-sac and was significantly larger and newer than other houses on the street. Its elaborate traditional paint job wasn’t what stood out. What caught my eye and caused my mouth to fall open was the army of festive inflatables stationed across the front yard. It looked like Clark Griswold had opened a Home Depot credit card and bought every inflatable he could find.

I couldn’t imagine how much light all the decorations and strings of colorful bulbs along the house would put off or the cost of the electric bill. Hopefully, the rooms had blackout blinds.

A driveway next to the B&B curved around to the land behind the main house and opened to a concrete pad with two parked cars. I stopped in front of a sign that readElves Park Hereand turned off the ignition. I stared at the fog hovering around the treetops as I tried to wrap my head around the fact I was in Dahlia Springs, Oregon. My stomach shifted like I was on a Tilt-A-Whirl. I had one week to fulfill my dare. A week to somehow push through the dense anxiety wrapped around me.

I should’ve guessed Keaton would take advantage of my drunken state to send me to Oregon. Sending me to Portland would’ve been easiest and most likely, but no. Keaton had made sure I’d spend the week in small-town Dahlia Springs with a dare to meet the family who had no idea I existed.

He’d offered to come with me many times as moral support since I’d discovered my father’s identity and found his family last year, but I hadn’t been ready to move the family from theoretical to real. When I’d woken this morning and eagerly opened the text with the details I needed for my trip, I hadn’t been sure if I wanted to hug or shove him. Lucky for him, he’d already left for his flight, so he hadn’t been there to find out which way I would’ve landed.

If I’d been staying in Portland, I could’ve made excuses that it was too difficult to make the hour’s drive to Dahlia Springs without a car. But he’d rented me one of those too.

A tap on the driver’s window startled me, nearly making me fill my underwear with lumps of coal. A woman in a Mrs. Claus outfit stood there smiling at me in a way that was as unnerving as it was welcoming. She appeared to be in her sixties with gray hair pulled back in a low bun and blinking Christmas light earrings.

I pulled the keys from the ignition, and she backed away when I opened the door.

“Sorry to startle you, dear. I didn’t want you to get too cold out here. I’m Deborah, but my friends call me Deb. Now that you’re a guest at myDollia Springs Bed and Breakfast, you’re a friend.” The emphasis on “doll” unnerved me.

The air was chilly but not nearly as severe as the December freeze I’d left back in Minnesota this morning. I hadn’t seen a fleck of snow since I’d landed in Oregon a few hours ago, and the temperature was twenty degrees above freezing. Damn near balmy in comparison.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You must be Arlo?”

“I am.” I moved to the back of the sedan and popped the trunk to grab my suitcase and backpack.

“It’s not often I get a booking as a surprise for the guest. Special occasion?”

“Just getting out of town for a bit.” I fell in step with her and pulled my suitcase behind me as she took me through a back door into a mudroom filled with decorations. Santa and Mrs. Claus dolls stood on each side of the door like gargoyles, their boots resting on doilies. That wasn’t what doilies were for, was it? My grandma used to have them as decorations on certain furniture.

“You picked a wonderful time to visit. Our annual Festival of Lights is underway, and there are lots of great events happening all month, including a few this week.” She chatted about the festival events and promised there was a schedule in my room as she led me into the house.

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