Page 46 of Santa's Girl
So I packed my overnight bag when I got back, threw on my boots, and drove down to the clubhouse.
The second I walked in, the noise hit me like a wall — music, laughter, pool balls clacking, someone shouting about needing more whiskey in the eggnog.
"Well, well, well," Gunner called from across the room. "Look what the grizzly dragged in."
Pico gave me a crooked grin. "Where’s the snow bunny? Thought she’d be glued to your hip by now."
“Ran off with Santa,” I muttered, dropping my bag by the bar and ordering a double.
The guys gave each other looks, the kind that saidwe’ll circle back to that later.
I was halfway through my drink when I felt someone slide in close. Too close.
“Jess,” I said without turning. I could smell her perfume before she even spoke.
“Hi, Bear,” she purred, already swaying slightly — mistletoe overhead, lips glossed, eyes half-lidded like she’d been waiting for this exact moment all week.
I turned to face her. She leaned in. I turned my head.
“Stop being so desperate,” I said flatly.
Her face went red — fast and furious. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Cool off in the snow before you embarrass yourself more.”
Her jaw dropped, but I was already turning back to my drink.
Harsh? Maybe. But I wasn’t in the mood to be polite to people who wanted something from me just because they were bored and I had broad shoulders.
The bar got quieter after that. Whispers. A few wide eyes.
I finished my drink, grabbed another, and let the noise rise back around me like static. Someone turned the music up. I lost track of who was winning darts. Eventually, I made my way to one of the back couches, the old one that sank too far in the middle. I dropped into it like I was made of bricks.
I was surrounded by people, warmth, noise, lights — everything I thought I needed.
But it didn’t help.
Because no matter how full the room was, none of it felt likehome.
Not without her.
Not without Becca — who had stomped into my life like Mrs. Claus in borrowed boots, kissed me under the stars, and flipped my entire world in three damn days.
I closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and let the music blur out the rest of the night.
Because the truth was simple and ugly:
The cabin used to be my retreat.
Now it just felt empty.
Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t just wantawoman in it.
I wantedthatwoman.
And she was gone.
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