Page 11 of Second Chances with St. Nick

He raised his brows. “Is it?” His brisk chuckle bit into the cold air between us.

Fair enough—it was a ridiculous observation.

“Don’t worry. Betty from the inn will look after you. She’ll find you a cozy room. I daresay we’ll be on our way first thing tomorrow morning and you’ll be home in time to open your stocking.”

With a sigh, I followed the line of passengers trudging toward the front of the inn. Looking on the bright side, at least a night in the hotel would mean one less evening under Mom’s scrutiny.

I stepped into the lodge, and after some hot chocolate and cookies from a cheery, red-cheeked woman, all other passengers and I settled into our assigned rooms. Mine was small and tidy, with a cloud-like double bed. But when I turned on the old TV for company, my own personal blizzard popped on the screen. The storm must have wiped out reception.

What the hell was I going to do for entertainment now? There was no internet signal this high on the pass. I wouldn’t even get to watch cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies on Netflix.

Sighing, I rummaged through the cupboards, desperate to find anything to read besides the Bible on the nightstand. After flipping through a few empty drawers, I nearly sang the Hallelujah chorus when I found the well-stocked minibar cleverly tucked behind a paneled door.

I ran myself a hot bath, and after stripping off my clothes, slipped into the water. The collection of miniature liquors I’d lined up on the side of the tub quickly disappeared. After two bottles of whisky, two cheap vodkas, and one brandy, my head swam, and I closed my eyes as visions of Nick pressed close against me danced in my head. The memory of his fingers on my skin as he’d kissed my forehead.

The steady drip, drip, drip of the faucet matched my heartbeat as the water crept higher, warm against my chin. When it reached my bottom lip, I opened my eyes, grabbing the sides of the tub and sitting up.

What if I fell asleep and drowned in the bath? Quickly hauling myself out, I caught sight of my refection in the mirror. The heat of the water had turned me all puffy and my skin glowed a vivid pink.

I swallowed hard. What if I’d died and somebody discovered me like this? I didn’t want to be a sensational headline in thePine Springs Press. I could just imagine it now:“Local Homecoming Queen Found Drowned, Drunk, and Very Pink in Hotel Bathtub.” That would keep my old school friends gossiping for days and my mom hiding behind her net curtains.

Moving into the bedroom, I slipped into the soft, white robe I’d found in the wardrobe, curling it around my body before taking out my contacts.

I hadn’t been called Bottle-top Abbie for nothing. I had appalling eyesight. To the point where I couldn’t see much beyond the end of my nose. The optometrist declined referring me for laser surgery twice. But being blind as a bat had its upsides. Everybody looked a lot younger and prettier—like I viewed them through a Vaseline lens.

I dug into my bag and found my thick glasses, putting them in easy reach on the nightstand. Finally, I climbed onto the bed. Tugging the blankets up to my chin, I closed my eyes and sank into a boozy sleep.

7

LOST LOVES AND LAUNDRY CARTS

Iwoke with a start, my heart racing. The room was quiet and dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight on the snow outside. The eerie gleam reminded me of the plastic stars I’d stuck on my ceiling as a kid or the glow-in-the-dark slime I got stuck in my hair in fifth grade. But as I listened in the stillness, I swore I heard the distant sound of jingle bells. And a thumping noise, like someone was stomping around in heavy boots.

Craning my neck, I twisted my head to hear more. It sounded like the noise was coming from the room next door. Had Santa checked in for the night?

I chuckled to myself. How much had I drunk?

My throat burned as I swallowed. Yep, too much. I needed to rehydrate. Bleary-eyed and bleary headed, I tightened the robe at my waist, slipped off the bed, and crept out of my room in search of ice water and any news on the road conditions. I could picture Mom freaking out right about now, but despite my pounding head and wobbly legs, I made it to the door without bumping into anything sharp.

I stepped out into the dim hallway. As I glanced around, no details snapped into focus—the surrounding walls remained ablur. On instinct, I reached up to the top of my head. Nothing. Just an unruly tangle of curls. The distant memory of my glasses laying folded on the nightstand had my gut plummeting right through the carpet.

I took a step backward, but my heart sank when the clunk of the door lock punctuated the air behind me. I sucked in a thin breath. Where did I put the key? With a racing pulse, I checked my pockets, coming up empty. Crap, crap, crap! Now I was half blind and helpless in an unfamiliar corridor. I hadn’t bothered to take notice of my surroundings earlier. Only the snowdrifts and Nick consumed my thoughts.

I steadied my breath. Time to calm down, Abbie. Maybe someone at reception could let me back into my room. They’d have a master key for sure. But how the hell would I get down the stairs in one piece?

With a grimace, I reached out and groped my way along the wall, the slippery sheen of the wallpaper cool under my fingertips. Even without my optical limitations, I didn’t have a reputation for being graceful. Hell, I’d failed all my ballet exams as a kid. Predictably, I found the only obstacle in my path—a pair of shoes. They tangled with my feet, taking them out from under me.

As I stumbled backward, my outstretched hand hit something solid. Before I could grip it, it slipped away under my weight. A groan of air left my body, and I went down with an unceremonious thump, butt meeting carpet.

Within a second, a wall of white engulfed me, and a shower of softness rained down. The smell of fresh laundry tickled my nostrils until, finally, pale silence surrounded me.

What the hell just happened?

I groped outward with both hands, finding taut material, like canvas. I pushed against it, but it sprang back. Okay, this wasfreaky, like being stuck in a tent with no door. I strained my ears for sound.

Apart from my racing breath, all I heard was a faint squeak, like a spinning wheel. The creaky whine reminded me of my old roller skates before Dad gave them a lick of oil every spring.

I widened my eyes. White fabric? Tent-like? The smell of laundry and squeaky wheels? There was only one ridiculous explanation, but it fit, considering I was in a hotel corridor. I’d locked myself out of my room, glasses-free, and flipped a laundry cart on top of me. Because, of course, if anyone was going to end up in this kind of mess, it would be me, right?

---