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Chapter One
The Cabins in the Pines always came alive during the Christmas season—but Jack Allen, who considered Christmas his favorite holiday (with the only close second being fiscal year-end close), had never truly experienced the season in the splendor of the rural resort. And it was an oversight that he fully intended to remedy this very year. From his current, lofty position, standing on a ladder some twenty feet in the air, Jack shivered despite his heavy blue puffer coat and watched as the first gentle flakes of snow fell softly from the high-country twilight sky, kissing the ground.
From here, he could see almost all of the campground side of Cabins in the Pines—the guest bungalows, with their warm wooden facades, were decorated with twinkling fairy lights that brightened the winter landscape, transforming the nearby frosted trees from scraggly sentinels into a view that rivaled any Christmas card. Each cabin door was even festooned with a pine wreath. The staff had hung bright ball ornaments on several pine trees that flanked the entrance to the nearby walking trails—the only greenery that remained in a forest whose other trees had given up their finery to the winter—and garlands of popcorn, which were cheerfully devoured by the local fauna every at dusk. Cinnamon wafted through the crisp winter air from the veritable mountains of seasonal baking that were being cranked out by Maisie, the petite, sassy restaurant manager who was always cooking up some comfort up the hill at the Bean Pot diner.
It was holiday heaven—and Jack Allen hadn’t been able to wipe the grin from his face since he’d arrived from Phoenix three weeks ago. He was more than excited for the coming holiday’s magic—but the snow was now falling faster, a reminder that the whole crew at The Cabins in the Pines needed to step up their preparations for the Winter Wonderland Festival if they wanted to outwit the weather and be ready in time.
“Hand me that box of ornaments, will you, Ursula?” Jack called out as he climbed higher on the ladder, stretching to string more lights across the pergola in front of the main office.
“Here you go, boss!” Ursula replied as she passed him the box. A petite, elderly woman with a wild, curly halo of red hair—accented with a few grey streaks—her smile was contagious, and her cheeks were flushed with the cold. He didn’t miss the teasing inflection she put on the word boss, nor the glint in her eyes behind her glasses, which were bright green today to coordinate with her dangly mistletoe earrings.
“Thanks,” Jack said, mock-glowering as he reached down to take it from her. “And how many times have I asked you to stop it with the boss business? Too stuffy. What’s wrong with Jack?”
“What is wrong with Jack? I mean, I would question judgment first, based on how overextended that ladder is,” a nearby voice called, and Jack cut his eyes at Slater, the woodsy outdoorsman of a man who served as the Cabins’s general manager. Slater was busy assembling a pair of eight-foot-tall twig reindeer near the far end of the office, at the entrance, his breath visible in the cold air—the cold obviously not so pressing that he couldn’t join in on the ribbing.
“Okay, jokers,” Jack said, pointing his screwdriver at the pair. “Don’t make me pull rank here. According to the real boss, we still have to decorate the inside lobby, build the vendor stalls in the firepit arena, and put together the stage in the side field for the sing-off.”
“Oh, yeah,” Slater said, looking thoughtful. “Did Delaney decide what she wanted to call that?”
“The Jingle Bell Battle.” As if on cue, Delaney Andrews eased out of the front door of the Cabins’s office, her hand on her lower back to balance out her very pregnant belly. “Executive decision.”
“And I think your vote counts for two,” Jack observed. There was an extra dose of Christmas excitement this year—not only was the annual Winter Wonderland Festival soon, but an upcoming addition to the Pines’s family. The news of Wyatt and Delaney’s bundle of joy had brought their close-knit group even closer, and the date of the baby’s arrival was neck and neck with Christmas itself. Jack was pretty good with numbers, and he had toyed with the idea of a betting pool among the staff to guess if Santa or baby Andrews would arrive first.
Ursula pursed her lips. “We’re not calling the contest MistleTunes? I voted for that one.”
“Sleigh the Stage should have been the winner, honestly.” Wyatt Andrews came out of the office on the heels of his wife, arms full of silver garland. “But try telling this mama that. She’s stubborn enough for two now.” He winked at Delaney, who raised an eyebrow at him and frowned.
“Sleigh the Stage sounds like a horror movie,” Delaney groused. “You want people to be scared away from this place—at Christmas? I have so much planned. I even hired our first ever official festival photographer!”
Wyatt shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. “Who wouldn’t want to spend their Christmas here? Even if there’s a forest slasher?”
“Especially now that we have the temporary ice-skating rink,” Ursula said. “And those adorable reindeer costumes we got for the ponies in the petting zoo? They’re going to be a hit!”
Jack smiled fondly at the banter between the people gathered below him. If you’d have asked him last summer, when he had first visited The Cabins in the Pines, he’d certainly never have imagined that, come the next December, he’d be stringing Christmas lights instead of sitting at the head of a conference table. Wyatt handed up a handful of tinsel, and Jack began wrapping it around a rafter.
“If there’s this much contention around naming the signing contest, how will the two of you decide what to name that baby?” Jack leaned down again toward Wyatt as his business partner passed up the rest of the tinsel.
It was Delaney’s turn to grin. “Good question.” She patted her belly. “Chances are, this kiddo is going to pop into the world as a ‘hey, you,’ if we can’t settle that debate.”
“It’s only unsettled because you won’t let me name her Vivien Leigh Andrews.” Wyatt planted a kiss on top of his wife’s head as she rolled her eyes. Her husband’s love for—obsession with—classic film was practically part of his DNA.
“He will be named Benjamin Zane, thank you very much.”
Wyatt pulled a face. There was a good-natured, collective chuckle.
Ursula drew Delaney in for a soft side hug. “How are you feeling, dear? Should you even be out here helping?”
Delaney waved away the concerns of Wyatt’s aunt. “Yesterday was false contractions. Dr. Lewis thinks it could be anytime now, but I can’t stand to just sit and do nothing. The festival is coming up, Alex is hosting dinner tonight at The Bean Pot—oh! Her sister is supposed to be arriving tonight.”
“Come on, let’s finish up so we can get some rest for tonight,” Wyatt urged, his voice filled with exhaustion. Jack had to admit, he was pretty tired too. But it was a good tired. An “honest day’s work” kind of tired.
“Good idea. We’ve got a big evening ahead of us.” Delaney’s eyes shined with anticipation. “Celebrating Jack Allen—the newest C-suite member at The Cabins!”
Jack climbed down from the ladder, wiping his hands on his jeans to rid his palms of the clinging snow from the ladder rungs. “We have a C-suite? I haven’t seen it. Is it across the lake?”
“Nah. It’s the counter at The Bean Pot,” Slater said. “All meetings catered with pie and coffee.”
“Now, that sounds great,” Jack said. “And Alex’s sister is coming? I hadn’t heard.” He wondered if this sibling was anything like Alexandra Brent-Collingsworth, the feisty reality-tv-host-turned-savior of the once-dilapidated Pines.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be around for the dinner at the Bean Pot tonight,” Delaney informed. “You’ll get your chance to meet her.”
“Why so interested, Jack? Want me to ask Alex if she’s single?” Ursula teased, waggling her eyebrows.
Jack pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose at Ursula. “Madam, I can get dates on my own, thank you. I understand the propensity of this crowd to matchmake, but I’m fine, thank you.”
Ursula shrugged and waved away Jack’s supposition. “You say that, Mr. Suit and Tie, but I haven’t seen you out with any eligible young Fairwood lady in the whole time since you bought in. And I would know. I play bridge in Fairwood every Saturday night, which is the exact evening every week when the town gossip is collated and dispensed.”
“Well, maybe I’m just not on the market,” he countered easily.
“You flirted with my fiancée last summer,” Slater pointed out. Jack was grateful that he was smiling when he said it.
“Well, her father was my business associate—what could I do? Ignore her? Plus, she’s awfully pretty.” Jack crossed his arms and schooled his face into a serious expression. “But, you know, Ursula’s right. I’m so lonely. And Hope is really pretty. I think I’ll take the sage advice of my elder. Where is Hope right now? In her office on the executive side?”
Jack faked like he was turning toward the parking lot, only to be pelted in the back of the head with a small—and very wet—snowball. He turned back to find Slater gathering another, and Jack avoided its trajectory by darting behind Ursula.
Slater wielded a third mush-ball. “Unfair to use the receptionist as a shield! Coward!”
“Okay! Okay!” Jack said, laughing and throwing up his hands in surrender. “I relinquish all interest in your fiancée!”
In a showy gesture, Jack kneeled in the snow and lowered his head.
Slater nodded solemnly. “Accepted.”
Still chuckling, Jack clambered up as Ursula spun to look at him. “Now, back to the subject at hand. Handsome guy like you? Not on the market? Pish tosh. I think some floozy broke your heart.” She planted her hands on her hips, the fringe on the scarf tied around her waist swaying as she did so. “I just have a sixth sense about these things.”
Jack felt his face heat, despite the cold. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on him now.
Actually, someone did, he thought sadly. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dating because of the epic falling out that had been his last relationship. No, it really was that he was just…
“I’m busy, that’s all there is to it,” Jack said, impressing even himself with how easily the little white lie slipped out.
“Hmph,” Ursula grumped in response. “Fine, then. After Christmas, I’m finding you a girl. You can’t be the only one at The Pines without a match.”
“You aren’t married,” Jack observed evenly. Then, he took a step closer to Ursula and smoldered down at her as convincingly as he could. “I’m financially stable, if that recommends me.”
Instead of being flustered, as he’d expected her to be, Ursula simply patted Jack on the front of his puffer jacket and sighed. “It’s the emotional stability I’m concerned about,” she deadpanned.
“He doesn’t set up a stable ladder, either,” Slater added wryly.
“I quit,” Jack said.
“Alright, everyone!” Wyatt called out, clapping his hands together. “Let’s take a break and grab some hot drinks and holiday treats at the Bean Pot.”
Delaney nodded. “Yes. Mama needs cookies!”
“We can stay friends,” Ursula said, and she patted Jack on the cheek before sashaying over to gather up the extra string lights and other decorative debris scattered around the edge of the asphalt.
Jack wiped his palms on his jeans and took a step back to admire the now extra-festive entrance to the office. The sun had now disappeared fully behind the frost-dusted pines, and they’d run out the clock on today’s work hours, according to Mother Nature. It had been a long day, but there was satisfaction in their hard work. Jack warmed inside—this was why he’d jumped at the chance to invest in The Cabins in the Pines when Alex had asked him. Not just this place, but these people.
And he was sure that this new arrival—he’d not even asked what this mysterious sister’s name was—was bound to love it here as much as the rest of them. There was a certain magic about the place that went right for the heart.
And even if she wasn’t the outdoorsy type—who could resist Christmas?
End of Excerpt
