Page 21 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas

EIGHTEEN

MEG

“Megs! You came!” Matt dropped Lucinda’s arm and ran to embrace Meg. He stopped short and went in for an awkward fist bump instead before standing back to appraise her like she was a stranger. “Wow, you look great. Really great. I’m so glad you came.”

As he approached, her heart felt like it might swell right out of her chest.

Oh, my God, it’s happening.

He’s here!

Shit, he’s here.

A loop of happy memories played in her mind—driving with the windows down in his old truck, blasting tunes, late-night pizza and beers at her place, cuddling up watching sci-fi flicks, tender embraces, passionate kisses.

A sudden warmth spread from her scalp to her fingertips. “Thanks, you look good, too.” She managed to gulp. She couldn’t breathe. Could everyone hear the blood rushing to her head or the way her heart was assaulting her rib cage, trying to break free?

Stop staring.

But he was even more handsome than she remembered. He had grown into himself since she’d seen him last. His shaggy blond hair was slightly longer, just enough to cover his left eye.

Have his eyes always been that blue?

They reminded her of Gam’s sapphire crystals—crisp, soul-stirring, and impossibly deep.

He chuckled effortlessly, wrapping his arm around Jill. “Hey, lady, it’s been way too long. Great to see you.”

Has he always been that muscular?

She didn’t remember his chest looking quite that firm or his shoulders being as broad.

God, stop it.

Her mouth felt dry. She tried to force the ever-growing hard lump in her throat down but couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

He seemed equally entranced as he studied her face and grinned, making his eyes sparkle even more. “Megs, I can’t believe it’s been so long and that you actually came. Jill and I had a bet that you wouldn’t show.”

“Hey, a pact is a pact. You’re an old man now,” she teased. “I had to be here to lord that over you for a while. And technically speaking, I’m here on assignment. My editor should be here shortly.” She tapped her wrist like she was keeping time.

He started to say something, but the drop-dead-gorgeous redhead came up next to him, bumping him playfully on the hip. “Mattie, who’s this?”

Mattie?

No, come on.

Not Mattie—anything but Mattie.

“Oh, hey, Lucinda.” Matt froze like a deer in headlights for a minute but then composed himself, waving his hand from one woman to the other. “Lucinda Hinton, this is Meg Reed.”

“Of course, Meg, or do you prefer Margaret?” Lucinda spoke animatedly with her hands.

“I read your NYT piece. Damn, sister. That should have come with a content warning. I wasn’t prepared to bawl my flipping eyes out and ruin my mascara when Matt shoved his laptop in my face.

He said you wrote a piece for the NYT but failed to mention that the story would pack such an emotional punch.

” Lucinda placed her hand over her heart in a show of affection.

She looked sincere, but Meg had already made up her mind not to like Lucinda.

And calling Matt “Mattie” was a serious strike against her.

“You know, we have a lot in common. We’ll have to find time to chat and get to know each other properly. ”

Yeah, right.

What could they possibly have in common? Lucinda was an heiress to one of the biggest fortunes in the entire state. Meg was still living paycheck to paycheck and struggling to pay rent. The only thing they had in common was Matt—and he was Lucinda’s now.

Meg hoped her face wasn’t betraying her. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “Thanks for hosting us and doing all this…” She motioned to the lodge.

“Oh, it’s nothing—a corporate thing.” Lucinda waved her off. “I mean, anything for this guy, of course,” she cooed, fluttering her eyes at Matt.

Okay, fine, maybe technically, it wasn’t a coo, but it was close.

“I’ve heard so much about you. Your adventures sound epic.

Mattie talks about you and Jill all the time.

I feel like I practically know you both.

” Lucinda reached for a handful of nuts, popping them in her mouth and plopping into one of the oversized chairs.

“What is everyone drinking?” She gestured to a waiter who happened to be passing by.

“I’ll take my usual, and can we get a round for my friends. ”

Jill caught Meg’s eye and mouthed, “You good?”

Meg nodded.

She wasn’t.

Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth in a tight smile. Tiny beads of sweat dripped down her neck and formed over her upper lip. She just had to hold it together for a while longer, then she could go scream into her pillow and fall apart.

Owen passed around menus. “The beer list was too long, you all decide. It was too much pressure, and Jill will tell you if they have Guinness on the menu, then it has to be Guinness. It’s like an Irish law.”

“Guinness is on tap, just for you,” Lucinda said, flickering her fingers at Owen. “Matt gave me a crash course on each of you, and I took notes!”

Owen gave her an Irish drinking salute. “Cheers to that.”

“I don’t know if Mattie has mentioned it yet,” she continued, glancing at Matt and letting her eyes linger comfortably for a minute.

“But my dad is taking care of all the arrangements for the weekend. Just put everything on my tab. We’ll take care of it.

Consider it a tiny part of your birthday present. ”

Every time she called him Mattie, Meg cringed.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Matt started to protest. “Really, Luce, you don’t have to go to any extra trouble. I just want a chill weekend with my friends. We’ll grab some beers. Go snowshoeing. Soak up the winter vibes. That’s it.”

She scoffed. “Please. As Blazen’s newest and, might I add, youngest VP, you are getting the works for your birthday.

I don’t make the rules. Talk to my dad. My orders are clear—spare no expense.

This weekend, we’re rolling out the red carpet to celebrate you.

” She twisted her hand with a flourish as if she were actually rolling out a velvet carpet.

When Matt had decided to leave print journalism to take a high-tech writing job at a startup, Meg thought it would be a good match for his geeky tendencies.

He had covered the tech beat for The O. It seemed like a dream gig.

But he ended up frustrated with the paper’s lack of foresight about the changing media landscape.

They had met at the J-school, where they were eager to venture into the real world of journalism and leave their mark on the world.

Only a lot of their glassy-eyed visions of working for a newspaper hadn’t turned out the way either of them imagined.

Matt had been smart to make the move. Obviously, it had been a financial boon for him. And a VP at thirty was impressive, but looking at him with Lucinda made her wonder if he’d sold his reporter’s soul in the process.

“Pints up, friends.” Matt gave Meg a sheepish grin. “You’ll learn there’s no arguing with Lucinda Hinton. The Hintons are used to getting their way.”

Meg wanted to believe that his voice contained an undercurrent of irritation, but the way he sat on the chair next to Lucinda and casually threw his arm over her shoulder made her realize it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

The waiter returned with a hot buttered rum for Lucinda. “What can I get for the rest of you?”

“I’m checking out the IPAs you have on tap,” Matt said, giving the beer menu a quick once over. “It’s a good list.”

The waiter nodded with approval. “Yep, we have three in your honor; we’re calling them the Hinton holiday rotation—a winter warmer, a hazy, and a hoppy pine.”

“I’ll try the hazy,” Matt said, offering Jill the menu.

Jill pushed it away. “Can I just get a hot tea?”

Owen massaged her shoulder. “You feeling okay, love?”

“Yeah, I’m tired,” she said, rubbing her eyes. Then she shot him a murderous look. “Only one of us slept on the flight.”

“Uh-oh!” Owen winced and threw up his hand. “Guilty as charged. Maybe I should get in on this IPA action.”

“Hell, just bring the whole keg then,” Matt teased. “A round of IPAs sounds great right now.”

Lucinda bit her bottom lip, flashing everyone a conspiratorial grin as she raised her glass in a salute. “Okay, okay, now I’m really excited about this weekend. This is on my dad’s dime, so let’s live it up, you all.”

“I don’t know, though.” Matt scowled. “I don’t want to go overboard.”

“Are you kidding me? Dad thinks you’re a god.” Lucinda threw her head back and laughed. “Why do you think we’re having this party?” There was something beneath her tone that flagged Meg’s attention.

“There’s nothing better than beer, period. Good beer anyway,” Meg bantered back, trying to break the tension filling the empty space. “Cheap beer is another story.”

“You heard it from our resident NYT writer,” Matt said with a touch of pride. “What do you say, Luce, you want to jump on the beer train?”

Lucinda shook her head and raised her mug higher, intentionally holding her pinkie like a queen. “No, thank you. You peasants, stick with your beer. I much prefer something a bit more sophisticated.” She winked and giggled.

“So back to the Times, Megs, that is incredible. I can’t believe you actually did it.

I mean, I don’t mean that I didn’t think you could do it, I just—uh…

” Matt stopped, bumping the side of his face like he was upset with himself.

“What I mean is, of course, you did it. It’s just so amazing that you followed through on a dream.

You made it happen. I remember you talking about writing for the NYT basically every day in our undergrad.

Everyone else got real jobs. Not you. You pursued your passion. ”

This time, Meg was sure there was a hint of envy in his tone.

She wasn’t the only one who had lofty goals. Matt had wanted to write for Wired or win a Pulitzer. He had revered Pops’s work, maybe even more than Meg, if that was even possible.

They could have been a dynamic writing duo but instead took two very different and divergent paths.

But he wasn’t entirely right about her. She had a real job that paid the bills. There was still a huge dream she had yet to realize.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked. “You’ve reached the pinnacle. I guess you need a new dream, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Meg nodded, thankful that the waiter appeared with a tray of frothy pints.

When she and Johanna discussed the angle for the weekend, Johanna suggested the possibility that Meg could do a follow-up to her NYT piece.

Not just suggested. She’d been ecstatic about the idea.

A return to the “scene of the crime,” in Johanna’s words.

Or the scene of the climb, Meg had offered, a funny pun leftover from her early days at Northwest Extreme.

Of course, Johanna was still trying to butter Meg up since she owed her for taking on this assignment.

Meg wasn’t sure if she wanted to write a follow-up to a story that had taken almost a decade to tell. Thus far, she hadn’t told anyone, not Jill, not Gam, that there was another potential purpose for coming to Bend.

Her first NYT byline had been a saga with Pops, but if she decided to take a sophomore spin at a new writing project, she knew that it had to be something entirely new. Something just for her.

And that was the scariest part.