Page 1 of A Very Merry Mistake

CHAPTER 1

CLAIRE

“No, please, no!” I mutter as I press the gas pedal of the gigantic truck to the floorboard, hoping it will pick up speed. Instead, it sputters before losing momentum. The steering wheel locks, and it takes all the strength I have to guide the behemoth off the country road and onto the shoulder before coming to a stop.

The engine is no longer running. I’m officially stranded.

Renting something nearly the size of a bus—that I practically need a ladder to get inside—wasn’t my idea. It was only option the rental company had, so it was more of a take-it-or-leave-it situation. Considering there’s an arctic cold front moving across the state, I took it.

Against my better judgment, I signed the agreement, and continued on my merry way to the Christmas town in middle-of-nowhere Texas.

I told myself I’d at least fit in with the Southerners, even if I’d never be able to park it. Call it determination, but I refused to allow one mishap to deter me from visiting Merryville.

But this? This shit is next level.

I push the button to see if the engine will start again, and I’m reminded why I don’t drive. Something like this always happens when I get behind the wheel. It’s why I enjoy New York and Paris, where walking is common. More proof that this secret trip is out of my comfort zone.

As I lean against the smooth leather headrest, I notice the temperature displayed on the dashboard—forty-two degrees.

I can’t say I’ve ever visited Texas in December or that I ever want to again.

When I turn on the radio, a weather warning plays and it’s on every station. Deadly, freezing temperatures. Ice on roads. Do not travel. Stay indoors.

Waiting here, hoping someone will pass me, could be dangerous. I haven’t seen another car on the road in hours. Right now, I need to take action and schedule a tow truck.

I reach for my oversized Louis Vuitton that’s on the passenger seat. I dig around in the bottom and fish out my phone. The thing dies as soon as I unlock it. And, of course, there is no built-in GPS in this stupid truck, so I’m not even sure where I am. There’s only a tiny screen that shows the radio station and time.

When the weather warnings repeat, I turn it off. I’ve never been stranded like this, but I’ve never traveled to a remote location alone, either. I hope this isn’t a sign of how the rest of this trip will go.

For the next five weeks, I must learn everything I can about Merryville, though I’ve memorized the key facts.

The famous Texas town celebrates Christmas 365 days of the year.

It’s a tourist attraction, a place the influencers visit for their Christmas-in-July photos.

Merryville also celebrates other holidays, but Santa is always in attendance.

A strong wind rocks the truck, returning me to my shitty reality.

Concentrate, Claire.

I search for my charger, dumping everything onto the seat—just a pack of gum, several pairs of designer sunglasses, and my wallet. No cord.

If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have none.

That’s been my entire year, though. Why would it be any different in December? At this point, it’s expected.

I squeeze my eyes tight. The only option I have is to walk to the inn where I have a reservation for the next five weeks. I’m hesitant, because the boots I’m wearing are fashionable but not remotely practical.

I’ve seen no one on this country road while contemplating my next move. It’s almost as if I’m heading to a ghost town with zero people going in or out.

The straight road in front of and behind me seems endless.

When a few drops of rain thump against the hood, this situation quickly becomes a living nightmare. I try to push the intruding thoughts away.

The arctic cold front is supposed to carry an awful combination of rain, sleet, ice, and potential snow. In some places, possible flooding. I did my research before I flew out this morning, but I thought I’d beat it here.

As the minutes keep ticking, I pump myself up to trek to Merryville, but I’m unsure how far away it is. The last sign I saw stated fifteen miles, but that felt like fifteen miles ago. So I have to be close. The sun is setting soon, and I need to make a decision.

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