My Greatest Joy (Maplewood Falls #2)

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

FALLON

DAY 2

I wake from a dreamless sleep without an alarm. I’m not a morning person by any means—I hate mornings—but I’m an early riser. I swear my internal clock syncs with the sun no matter where I am in the world.

Once I slide out of bed, I open the curtain to see everything covered with a blanket of white. If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have none.

After I go through my morning routine and get dressed, I check my phone to see if Sierra responded to the strongly worded email I sent last night.

It sends me into a tailspin of rage when I realize she hasn’t. I’m tired of her making mistakes like this, especially ones that put me in a dangerous situation. Because of her, I’m now in an uncomfortable position with a strange man.

With my phone tightly in my grip, I go downstairs and call Sierra. I don’t care about the time difference. Not when she’s responsible for my predicament.

“Sierra,” I bark out when she picks up.

“You realize it’s four in the morning, right?”

“Did you read my email?”

“Um…no.” I hear scrambling as if she’s reaching for her computer.

Groaning, I explain what happened. She makes a few excuses and tries to get out of this being her fault, but I interrupt her.

“I went to the website myself. It was obvious that it was a phishing site. Half the page was filled with ads and pop-ups. And now, I’m stuck staying at a strange man’s house in the middle of a snowstorm. Not to mention, my card has to be canceled. When I checked the statement last night, it showed several charges I didn’t make.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says. I know she’s being genuine, but this was a dumb mistake, even for her. “I looked everywhere, and that was the only rental available within a fifty-mile radius.”

I let out a long sigh, my heart racing over how worked up I am. “ Take. Care. Of. It. ”

Once the words leave my mouth, I end the call. As I set my phone down on the counter, I groan.

A chuckle rings out behind me, and I glare at Levi. His dog trots toward me, but I ignore him.

“Where do you keep the coffee?” I ask around a yawn.

“I don’t have any.”

“Seriously? Who doesn’t drink coffee? Or at least have some stocked for guests?”

He lifts his finger and points at himself, then gives me a smile, one I don’t return. “I didn’t realize I’d have an uninvited guest.” Before I can ask about getting some, he adds, “But I have hot cocoa and apple cider. That’s about it. Oh, wait. I might have…”

He moves past me and opens the pantry, then digs around. A few seconds later, he sets a rusted can on the counter. “This.”

I pick it up and read the label.

“This is instant, and it expired five years ago.” I blink hard, hoping I’ll wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“You do what you can with whatcha got. Enjoy.” He smirks and then puts a kettle on the stove.

I suck in a deep breath, then snatch up my phone because I won’t function properly without some caffeine. “Fine. I’ll get some delivered.”

A roar of a laugh escapes him. “Sweetheart, there aren’t services like that out here. You’d be lucky to get a package from the post office on time. That’s small-town living and how it’s always been.”

“Yep. It’s official. I hate it here,” I tell him with my whole chest. “Can’t wait to go back to civilization.”

When his kettle whistles, he opens a package of hot cocoa and mixes it in a mug. “I plan to make some calls to see if there is any lodging in Maplewood Falls for you.”

“Great.”

“But…”

The way he lingers is unsettling.

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s the holiday tourist season, and a lot of skiers are waiting to hit the slopes after the blizzard. Plus, with Christmas coming up, people come in for the festival and to visit their families. It’d be a miracle to find something right now.”

Considering what Sierra told me, I know he’s telling the truth. Just lovely.

Just as I open my mouth, our phones blare with an alert that nearly has me jumping out of my skin.

“Looks like all the roads in and out of here are closed,” he says as I read the message from the National Weather Association about dangerous winds, snow, and ice.

“Of course they are,” I mutter dryly. “Do you have Wi-Fi?” I ask when a notification pops up to connect.

“Yeah, the password is Jolly1225 with a capital J. No spaces.”

“You’re joking.” I raise a brow, and he shakes his head. I glance at the Christmas tree, the town scene on his mantel, and then at him again. “Is there a reason it looks like Christmas threw up in your house? I lost count of how many decorated trees and ridiculous amounts of decor you have everywhere.”

He arches a brow.

“Wait. Do you have kids or something?” I blurt out.

This makes him chuckle. “No. But maybe one day.”

“A girlfriend or wife going to barge in on us and think something’s going on?” I ask. There’s no way he did all this for himself. It’d take months.

He shakes his head. “Nope. It’s only Dasher and me.”

“Oh.” Not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

“Did you touch my reindeer?” he asks.

“Huh?”

He points at the mantel. “I noticed he had been moved.”

“I was looking around and wanted to see its face. I was in disbelief that I wasn’t in a Christmas store with the amount of decor.”

He shakes his head. “I should’ve known something was off when I saw that.”

“You’re telling me you missed my coat hanging on the rack, my boots by the door, and not to mention my whole-ass minivan in the driveway, but you noticed a small figurine not in the right spot?”

“I came in through the back door. Never saw your car or items. Besides, I like Christmas.” He shrugs unapologetically.

“You’re a little too old to be nerding out for Santa,” I taunt, finding it quite refreshing, but I’d never admit that to him.

“Never too old for holiday spirit.” He winks and makes his way into the kitchen.

I follow and take a seat at the breakfast bar.

“You hungry?” He flashes a boyish grin, showing off his perfect white teeth.

“I could eat.”

He places a cast iron pan on the stove and turns on the burner. Then he pulls bacon and eggs from the fridge. Not that I’m purposely gawking, but it’s hard not to as this lumberjack of a man cooks for me.

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?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m aware, and from what I saw when I drove through, I’m not that impressed. I’ve seen more believable movie sets built in California parking lots.”

“Now that’s offensive. Wait until you witness it in its full glory during the winter festival,” he tells me while fixing our plates.

Guilt 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 you were in the wrong place?”

Before I can argue, the lights flicker. I pick up my phone, and Levi does the same.

“We 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. “A tower might’ve gone 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 but 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.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do. 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.”

“This article has to be perfect.”

“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 Maplewood Falls’ 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, as well as interview 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 it’s cracked up 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 of 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.”

He taps his temple. “It’s called smart marketing, baby.” He shoots me a wink, and I hate how heat rushes through my body when he looks at me like that.

I finish eating, then place my plate in the sink. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome. I’m making it my personal mission to get you to like this holiday before you leave. You’ll be singing Christmas songs in no time.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. Christmas has been dead to me for years,” I say without thinking as I make my way to the stairs.

“Wait, what?” he calls out, but I go to my room and ignore his question.

I wish I could call Taryn and tell her what’s going on and how memories of our childhood flood my mind every time I stare at one of these trees. But since I can’t do that, I open my laptop and pull up a blank document.

At least we still have electricity… for now .

First impressions are everything, and based on what’s happened since I arrived, this place seems more like a winter hell than a wonderland.

So I place my fingers on the keys and resort to what I always do when I get overwhelmed—I write.