Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
He glances over his shoulder at me as I try to understand his schtick. “So…is this Christmas thing a part of your identity or something? Do you work for Santa?”
He chuckles with amusement. “Do you hate the holidays?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“You’re joking,” he deadpans like I’m the psychopath here when he has mistletoe hanging in his doorway with no one to kiss.
“No. I don’t celebrate it at all.”
And his smile I’m admittedly getting used to fades.
“You do realize that you are visiting the place that’s fabled to have been the original North Pole?”
“Please.” I roll my eyes as I sit at the breakfast bar and wait. “I’m aware, and from what I saw when I drove through, I’m not that impressed. I’ve seen movie sets built in California parking lots that were more believable.”
“Now that’s just offensive. Just wait until you witness it in its full glory during the winter festival,” he tells me while fixing our plates.
Guilt nearly slaps me in the face because it’s not my intention to shit all over his town. However, the last thing I need is a new friend who’s holiday obsessed when I’m actively trying to avoid it.
“Levi.” I grab his attention as he sets our plates down on the breakfast bar. “I want to apologize for how I reacted last night and for macing you. Not that it’s an excuse, but I had a horrible day getting here, and had to drive over two hours in this weather.”
“You drove that far?”
“Yeah, my flight got canceled, and I didn’t want to wait in the airport overnight.”
“Wow, that sucks. I’m shocked you made it here in one piece.”
“Me too,” I say honestly. “But anyway, who leaves their door unlocked?”
“I was outside chopping wood,” he explains. “Didn’t realize I had to dead bolt it to stop Goldilocks from getting comfy in my bed.”
His smirk has me glaring at him. “Very funny. You act like I purposely snuck in.”
“I’m not the only one to blame here, babe. You didn’t see how lived in the house was and think maybe I’m in the wrong place?”
Before I can argue, the lights flicker. I pick up my phone, and Levi does the same.
“We just lost Wi-Fi. The router will restart, but there might be an area-wide outage,” he tells me.
I try to text my sister, but it shows not delivered. “My text won’t go through.”
Levi looks at his screen. “We just lost cell service. A tower might’ve went out. That sometimes happens with high winds.”
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing I’m in a worse position than I was when I arrived. Not only don’t I know this man, now I have no way of calling or texting anyone for help if he turns out to be a total psycho. While he seems like a genuinely nice guy, some people are great at faking it. And considering what his house looks like, I wouldn’t put him being a psycho off the table just yet.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do, just gotta make the best of it,” he tells me as his dog lies at my feet. I look down and meet his big brown eyes, then throw him a piece of bacon when Levi isn’t looking. Dasher wags his tail as I sneak him another.
“Don’t worry about yesterday. Everyone deserves a second chance, but what matters is what you do with it.”
“Philosophical, too,” I hum. “As soon as I find somewhere else to go, I’ll be out of your hair. I have a lot of work to do and need zero distractions. I don’t like being interrupted when I’m in the zone.”
“Are you setting ground rules?” he teases. “Either way, I won’t bother you.”
“I have to get this article just right.”
“Article or exposé piece?” he challenges.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I retort.
“You said you already hate it here. Just wondering if you came with good or bad intentions. An article written in a bad light could ruin our town’s businesses and tourist attractions.”
“Are you trying to intimidate me to write a puff piece?”
He grins slyly. “I don’t think anyone could intimidate you. Especially with you carrying around deadly weapons.”
I roll my eyes at his dramatics. “As of now, my only priority is to be truthful. I want to visit the local farms and meet the people who run them, along with interviewing the mayor, business owners, and tourists. I’ve done some research and read a few blogs. As of now, I don’t believe it’s all that it’s cut out to be.”
“I can’t believe they sent a Christmas-hating journalist to one of the jolliest places on the planet who also happens to have the last name Joy. Do you find the humor in that at all? Or is your heart really made of coal?” He laughs, taking a bite of eggs.
“That’s so funny coming from a guy with the last name of White…whose family owns a Christmas tree farm and is obsessed with reindeer and Santa.”