Decidedly With Mistletoe: By the Bay, #4

By Stina Lindenblatt

Kissing-under-the-mistletoe rule #1: never kiss your ex-fiancée.

Oops.

My plans for the Christmas break include:

1. Drive to Lake Tahoe,

2. Learn to ski,

3. Enjoy hot, earth-shattering sex (and end my sex drought!),

4. Meet my Forever Love under the mistletoe.

Right—the last one was my friend's prediction, but you never know. What I don't count on is a flat tire, a major blizzard, and for Liam Quade, my ex-fiancé and the man who broke my heart ten years ago, to come to my rescue.

Oh, damn.

****

While driving back to San Francisco to spend Christmas with my family, I discover Ava stuck on the side of the road. She's the woman I was forced to walk away from ten years ago.

And now, she's the woman who would rather be coated with honey and fed to a hungry bear than to be within ten feet of me. Ouch.

I drive Ava to a nearby inn to wait out the storm…and end up kissing her under the mistletoe.

But Christmas magic is in the air and I quickly realize that I never stopped loving her. As secrets from ten years ago begin to unravel, I have to prove to her our love is worth a second chance.

I have to prove to Ava that I'm her forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stina Lindenblatt
• Release date: Oct 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781999392604

Book preview

1

Ava

The clock was ticking down the final minutes. No, not the final minutes until a bomb exploded.

But close enough.

It was December twenty-third. Two days until Christmas.

Thirty minutes before winter break began and I could leave for my week of fun-in-the-snow at Lake Tahoe.

Maybe I’d meet a hot ski instructor looking for a fling. A fling with earth-shattering sex.

When was the last time I’d had sex like that?

Good question. Unfortunately, it was one I had no answer for—other than it had been a very, very, very long time.

No, I didn’t mean that I hadn’t had sex in an extremely long time…which was technically true. I just meant…well, I think you get the picture.

Miss Versteeg, Jessica said, bouncing in her seat, her arm stretched up as though she were trying to touch the classroom ceiling. Will you read us a story?

A symphony of excited voices filled the room—twenty-one first graders agreeing with Jessica’s request.

I smiled at their grinning faces. All right. We have time for one book. What story would you like to hear?

Maybe they would like to hear the one about the princess who could do no right by her family. No matter what she did, they were never happy.

She got engaged to the prince they didn’t approve of.

She became an elementary school teacher instead of following the family tradition of becoming a lawyer.

And then because her prince—her one true love—didn’t love her in return (yes, that was a shocker to her, too)…he dumped her.

She did eventually marry another prince—one her family did approve of. This meant their kingdoms would at last be united.

At least that was the case until he ran off (translation: had an illicit affair) with a witch.

Did her royal family send its knights to bestow vengeance on such wanton disregard of the poor princess’s feelings?

Miss Versteeg, Tommy said, waving a book at me with Jolly Old Saint Nick on the cover, and interrupting my not-so-pleasant stroll down memory lane. "Can you read ’Twas the Night Before Christmas to us?"

Smiling, I took the book from him. Of course.

I indicated for everyone to sit in the reading corner. The scraping of chairs against the tiled floor and loud voices clambered over each other in the air. Normally, I’d remind my students to use their indoor voices. This time I didn’t bother; I just absorbed their happiness. Everyone deserved to be happy, especially at this time of year.

Less than thirty minutes later, the story was read, everything was tidied away in preparation for the winter holiday, and twenty-two glowing faces were waiting by the classroom door.

Does everyone have all their coats, mittens, hats, and boots? I asked, loud enough to be heard over the chatter. It never failed—each day, at least one item was forgotten in my classroom. Remember, you won’t be able to return for missing items until school starts in January.

I glanced at the clock again. Ten. Nine. Eight.

Twenty-two little engines revved, unable to hold back much longer.

Five. Four. Three.

Have a wonderful holiday break, everyone.

The buzzer hummed loudly through the classroom.

And twenty-two eager students were out the door faster than Santa could say Ho, Ho, Ho.

And I was left standing in my empty classroom, with the same sense of emptiness gnawing at my bones.

I pushed the pity party aside. Who had time for that?

In less than twenty-four hours, I would be swoosh, swoosh, swooshing down the beginner ski run. While, I might add, looking sexy in my new winter gear.

Or at least I hoped I looked sexy.

Had I ever skied before?

Nope. Not at all. My family preferred to vacation in sunny locations. My ex-husband was allergic to the snow.

Well, not literally.

Metaphorically.

I began straightening up my desk.

Are you ready for your big trip? Zoe, my best friend, asked from the classroom door. I looked up. In her hand was a long, flat box wrapped in red paper.

I just have to finish packing. Then I’m good to go.

She rolled her eyes. Right, as if you haven’t already packed. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were packed two weeks ago.

There might be a chance that she was right.

I have a few last minute things to add.

Have I told you I’m jealous? She might’ve said it a few times, but I didn’t buy it for a second. How could she be jealous of me spending a week on my own in the mountains? She had a loving husband and two adorable kids to spend the holidays with. I would gladly trade in my trip for what she had.

My phone rang on the desk. I picked it up and checked the name on the screen. A shudder rolled through me like when the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk stomped around the earth. Fee-fi-fo-fum.

Let me guess, Zoe said, an extra dose of pity in her tone, the Abominable Snow Monster herself?

I nodded and answered the phone. Experience had taught me that when it came to my grandmother, it was better to yank off the Band-Aid right away. Because if she had to phone you back…

Another shudder rolled through me.

I pressed my finger against my lips to warn Zoe to be quiet, and I upped the volume, so she could also hear my grandmother. It would save time in the long run. Then I wouldn’t have to repeat the entire conversation to Zoe once it was over.

Hello, Grandmother. I didn’t bother to fake that I was happy to hear from her. Which was just as well since I wasn’t a good actress. Just ask my high school drama teacher.

What is this nonsense that you’re not coming to the Bahamas for Chris and Gloria’s wedding?

And hi to you too, Grandmother. "Because I don’t feel comfortable attending my ex-husband’s wedding."

Why on earth would you feel uncomfortable? My grandmother’s go-to tone? Ticked off, with a side order of arrogance. She couldn’t look further down her nose at me than if she had been standing on top of the Empire State Building. Their parents have been friends of our family for decades. And your grandfather and I have known their grandparents…

Zoe mouthed, Since the dinosaurs walked the planet, distracting me from the rest of what Grandmother was saying.

A giggle bubbled deep in my belly, ready to shoot out like soda in a heavily shaken bottle. My hand shot to my mouth in a feeble attempt to contain it.

Zoe winked and mouthed, You’re welcome.

On a scale of one to ten, how successful was my scowl? Negative one to the power of some infinite number—thanks to my best friend’s ability to make me laugh.

Clearly my grandmother’s question had been rhetorical. She didn’t bother pausing her tirade long enough for me to answer.

I opened and shut my hand in a blah-blah-blah gesture. Zoe wasn’t so successful at containing her laughter. A loud giggle tore through the air.

Young lady, Grandmother said, even though I was thirty-one years old. "This is not something to laugh at."

Zoe crossed her eyes and made a face.

I snorted and turned around so I couldn’t see her anymore. My Spidey senses warned me I was in for a lecture, and I didn’t want Zoe to see the impact it had on me.

This was why I never called my grandmother.

Now if only I was equally successful when it came to hanging up on her. It was just one of those things I’d never mastered—mostly because it had been drilled into me from a young age that you had to respect your elders. Even when you didn’t necessarily agree with them.

You messed up your marriage, Grandmother said, and you dishonored our family with your behavior.

My behavior? I said it slowly as if sounding out each word. Chris was the one who cheated while we were married.

But if you had been a better wife to him, it would never have happened. You could have at least tried to look better for him. It wouldn’t have hurt you to lose some weight. That’s why he’s marrying Gloria.

He’s marrying her because she looks like a stick? A stick that would easily snap in two if accidentally stepped on. Maybe I don’t want to be a stick.

The pout in my tone? Not a good thing.

It was a sign of weakness.

And my grandmother preyed on weakness. Whereas most people fueled up on food, she regularly sacrificed virgins and devoured their weakness like it was candy.

"I will not have you talking about my best friend’s granddaughter that way. I booked you a plane ticket to join us tomorrow, and you will be on that flight. You will attend the wedding, and you will be on your best behavior."

Let me just note here that it wasn’t my fault I tripped on the hem of my wedding dress. And it was not my fault I stumbled into the table that held my wedding cake. Nor was it my fault I couldn’t save said cake and it landed not-so-gracefully on the floor.

Was that a sign that my marriage to Chris had been doomed to fail from the very beginning? Quite possibly.

Although looking back, it wouldn’t have been a big enough sign to warn me about the truth when it came to my ex-husband—which was revealed after I discovered him and Gloria in our bed. In leather.

Well, Gloria was in leather and slapping a whip against his bare ass.

What was he wearing?

A studded leather collar and a leash.

And nothing else.

You don’t want to know how much vodka I shot back to get that image out of my head.

Sorry, but I have plans. In my mind, I was swooshing down the mountain with my hot ski instructor. Don’t let her get to you.

Then you will cancel your plans.

Or what? The unspoken question hung out there like dirty laundry.

When I didn’t respond, my grandmother released a hard sigh. Ava, I do understand that it will be mildly uncomfortable for you. But the women in our family always live up to their responsibilities. And attending the wedding is part of your responsibility.

Seriously, Grandmother, what are you going to do? Threaten to take away my trust fund if I don’t show up? Too late. You already did that when I decided to go into education instead of pursuing a law degree. I turned my back on the money years ago. Or have you forgotten that? Anyway, I need to go now. My… I turned back to Zoe. The school principal just stepped into the classroom…to…to talk to me.

Zoe checked over her shoulder. At least I fooled one person.

You will be on that plane, young lady, my grandmother said.

I hung up and grinned at the phone. Don’t hold your breath.

"What will she do if