Page 13 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas

ELEVEN

JILL

Bend was even more beautiful than she remembered.

Rugged mountains jutted up from the endless snowy plains, their peaks stretching to greet the sapphire sky.

Spindly pine trees dotted the landscape, a pop of vibrant green against a backdrop of white.

A herd of deer frolicked in the snow as their car sped along the two-lane highway.

It looked like a holiday card come to life—bright, crisp, fresh, and impossibly cheery.

With one glaring problem.

Jill felt anything but merry.

“Matt’s meeting us at the lodge,” Jill said to Owen, forcing her voice to stay casual.

Owen’s face was pressed up against the window like a little kid on a snow day.

“Apparently, Lucinda’s dad owns the lodge and resort and, from what I gather, pretty much the rest of Bend,” Jill said, feeling a new swell of nerves.

“What’s she like?” Owen asked, dragging his gaze away from the spectacular scenery.

“No idea.” Jill shrugged. That wasn’t true. She had plenty of preconceived notions about Matt’s new girlfriend. None of which were fair. Lucinda Hinton was likely a wonderful woman, but Jill felt fiercely loyal to Meg.

She needed to keep an open mind.

For Matt’s sake.

It must be serious if Lucinda was throwing him a huge three-day weekend birthday bash. Jill wondered just how serious Matt was about his new love.

Lucinda’s father, Howard Hinton, owned Blazen, the tech company Matt had been working for since they all left Portland.

For a while, it seemed like Meg and Matt were making a serious go of long-distance, but then it all blew up.

After the breakup, Lucinda’s name slowly started to creep into their text exchanges or semi-regular video chats.

Matt would casually mention a hike or ski weekend with Lucinda and her family or find a way to weave her name into the conversation.

Then pictures of them together—posing at the top of Paulina Falls and rafting on the Deschutes—appeared on his social media.

As a mystery aficionado, it didn’t take much for Jill to piece the clues together and finally come out and ask him if they were dating.

Matt had admitted it sheepishly as if he were in the wrong.

“You know, Jill, it’s been rough after everything with Megs.

I guess I never thought we’d get to a point where we weren’t even speaking.

Lucinda has been a good friend. She’s been a good cheerleader.

I never anticipated falling for her. It happened naturally.

I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’re going to love her. ”

Jill understood, and she didn’t blame Matt for moving on, but she still held tight to a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe he and Meg would find their way back together.

When Jill received an invitation to his party out of the blue a couple of months ago, her heart stopped for a minute.

It arrived in an expensive envelope with hand-drawn calligraphy and all the formality of a wedding invite.

In fact, when she pulled it from their PO box, her stomach dropped.

For a full five seconds, she was convinced it was his wedding invitation.

It was ridiculous to hold out hope for a Matt-and-Meg reunion, but she couldn’t help herself. They were perfect for each other.

Although, then again, maybe they weren’t.

It had been almost a year since the last time they’d spoken.

She shuddered at the memory of what had started as a fun pub-hopping weekend in Portland and had imploded into a blowout fight.

One moment, they were laughing and reminiscing about old times over IPAs.

The next, the two people she adored most in the world were walking away like strangers.

And she’d been stuck in the middle ever since.

Relaying messages, playing referee, dropping subtle hints.

“Matt got another promotion.”

“Did you see Meg’s latest article?”

She tried to be neutral.

Frankly, it sucked.

They were supposed to be a unit, a trio. They’d weathered so much together—heartbreaks, moves across the country and to another continent, careers that didn’t go as planned, grief.

Maybe this weekend could finally put an end to the silence, the not speaking. Maybe this could be the reset they all needed.

As for Lucinda, she was inclined to want to hate her. On principle, if nothing else.

But that wasn’t fair.

Keep an open mind, Jill.

Meg and Matt’s falling-out wasn’t Lucinda’s fault.

But Jill didn’t know if she was walking into a reunion or about to face disaster.

“What are you thinking?” Owen asked, pulling his face away from the window again and resting his hand on her thigh in an easy show of affection. Her body instantly relaxed at his touch, ripples of calm spreading down from her shoulders.

Why did it have to be this good between them?

If he were just an ass, it would make ending—well, not easy—but not this painful.

The worst part was that she understood his position.

He’d opened up on many occasions, pouring out his soul to her with stories of being in primary school and working odd jobs like walking dogs and washing cars to come up with extra cash to buy bread and milk to help feed the family when his dad would go missing for weeks on end.

He was the youngest of five brothers and had fallen in with the wrong crowd at a young age, getting into fights and scuffles.

Nothing major, but enough to get him sent to the principal’s office on more than one occasion.

It was art that saved him and carved out a new path forward.

He’d thrived in art school, quickly garnering praise and accolades from their professors and an almost cultlike following from their fellow students who were amazed by his unique ability to take a functional, everyday object and turn it into something show-worthy.

His relationship with his brothers was strained, even these days.

One of his nephews was currently serving time for minor theft and drunken and disorderly conduct, and another had been in and out of jail for drug possession.

Anytime he got a text from one of them, he would sigh and say, “See, this is why it’s just you and me, Jill. Can’t pass on these genes.”

“You’re trembling,” Owen said, scooting closer to her and wrapping a muscular arm around her shoulder. “Are you cold?”

“Yeah,” Jill lied. “Italy to this is, uh, temperature shock.”

“Don’t you worry; once we get to the cabin, we’ll cuddle up under a pile of blankets and find a way to stay warm?” His voice dropped low into that sultry tone. The one that made her heart flutter and flop like a lovesick teenager. His smile turned slow and sexy, filled with a touch of longing.

Jill smiled, but she felt far from happy. Her heart was hammering, but not for the usual reasons. She leaned into him just enough to play the part, trying to calm the spiraling thoughts assaulting her brain.

As they pulled into the long turnaround in front of the lodge, her stomach clenched.

She wasn’t ready for this.

Not for Matt.

Not for Meg.

Not to face the truth that she still hadn’t figured out how to speak out loud.

She sighed and concentrated on her surroundings.

The gorgeous old-world structure took her breath away.

The main lodge looked like something out of Disneyland, with its dark wood exterior and slanted roofline covered in mounds of snow.

It reminded her of a gingerbread house, with the wafts of smoke puffing from the massive stone chimney and elegant wreaths adorning the arched windows.

Dainty, intricate snowflake lights and garlands with whole clementines, cinnamon sticks, and ruby-red berries were draped from the eaves and wrapped around the banisters.

Two Christmas trees flanked each side of the entryway.

And a wreath nearly the size of their camper van hung from the giant wood doors.

“When you said cozy, rustic lodge, this is not what I pictured.” Owen let out a low whistle, admiring the building.

Pathways lined with more twinkle lights led to groups of cute and cozy cabins scattered around the lodge, as well as a massive, steaming outdoor hot tub, a charming fire pit complete with tents and bright red Adirondack chairs, and a ski rental shop.

“I knew Lucinda’s family had money based on the invitation, but not this much money. No wonder they call her Bend’s heiress,” Jill replied, unbuckling her seat belt and pulling away from Owen.

“Yeah, well, fingers crossed she’s not a total nightmare.” Owen exhaled slowly through his nose. “Let’s just hope she’s the rare kind of rich—not a sociopath. Money like this messes with people. Makes them think they’re above us. I’ve seen it before.”

“That’s not fair.” Jill felt her skin prickle.

She’d told Owen about her family trust, but they’d never gone deep into her parents’ wealth and property portfolio.

In part because of this exact response. He’d grown up without much, leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth about anyone who came from money.

He had strong feelings about entitlement that clouded everything, including how much she was willing to tell him about her own background.

“Come on, you know how it is with people like this.” The edge of Owen’s lip curled into a snarl. “She probably has people who wait on her hand on foot. I can only imagine how pretentious she’s going to be.”

Jill inhaled slowly as she exited the car. “I don’t know. I trust Matt. He’s a good guy with a big heart. I can’t imagine he’d be with a partner who didn’t share those values. I’m going to keep an open mind, and you should, too.”

Owen softened a little. “Yeah, okay. Well, maybe she’s fine, but if she’s not, and she acts like she owns the air we breathe, I’m stealing all the fancy catered desserts and blaming it on the deer.”

Jill laughed in spite of herself and laced her hand through Owen’s.

He always made her feel safe. He knew how to make her smile.

Moments like this made her want to believe they could make it work.

She wished things could stay this easy and simple. But nothing about this weekend was going to be simple.