Santa’s Mistletoe Playbook

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

DANICA

T he next morning, Danica rolled over to see Bryson dressing in his scrubs for work. She tried to remember last night but blanked after they left Yukon Johnny’s.

Bryson turned around with an icy stare. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good. I think I messed up.” She put a hand to her aching forehead, too dizzy to sit up.

“Hm, you think?” he huffed in a bitter tone.

Danica’s stomach twisted, remorse eating her insides. “I’m so sorry, Bry. I got talked into those Jell-O shots.” She propped herself up on an elbow as the room spun.

“Who talked you into them?” He stood with his hands on his hips. “Let me guess. Monty, right?”

She nodded, clueless at what else to say.

Bryson threw up his arms. “I walk into a strip bar and see my girlfriend dancing at a biker table in her bra and underwear. What would you think if you saw me doing that with a bunch of women? How would you feel?” He shifted to the other foot.

“What do you mean? I danced in my underwear? No way!” Her heart thundered a mile a minute. No! That couldn’t have happened, could it? Then again, she hadn’t remembered climbing up to the top of that cell phone tower a few years ago, either.

“So, you don’t remember.” His mouth formed a straight line. “When I walked in, you were lap dancing for a bunch of bikers. Good thing you didn’t strip all the way. You would have been arrested.”

“In a stripper bar?” Heat crawled up Danica’s neck, and she closed an eye to steady her dizzying gaze at Bryson. “You’re making that up to make me feel bad for drinking.”

“Oh, yeah?” He raised his phone. “Monty texted this.”

Danica peered at the phone screen. Sure enough, there she was in a video, undulating for the bikers in nothing but her bra and skimpy thong.

“Holy mother of God!” she muttered, incredulous.

Bryson jammed his phone into his back pocket, his temple pulsating in and out. “I can’t get into this right now. We’ll talk when I get home from work.”

Her mouth was so dry, her lips glued together. “Bry, honestly, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Save it. Not sure you can this time. This one may be a deal breaker.”

Panic raced through her veins. “Seriously? You’re willing to end our relationship over this?”

Bryson held his hand up in a stop motion. “We’ll talk when I get home.”

She desperately wanted to say, “I love you,” but the words glommed in her throat.

The door slammed and the next thing she knew, Bryson backed the pickup out of the garage and drove fast down the road, clouds of snow swirling in his wake.

Tears rushed out, and she didn’t bother to stop them. Why did she drink and lose control? She knew better, yet she’d let her inner demons swallow her the same as before. She’d promised Bryson twice before she would never drink again.

I broke my promise for the third time. That’s what he meant by the deal breaker.

Remorse sucks.

“Please don’t let this be the end of us,” she sobbed, her quivering voice echoing in the vast, empty house. Christmas Eve would have been their second anniversary of being together. How could they celebrate with this thunder cloud hanging between them?

After downing coffee, Danica was desperate to make things right with the love of her life. She decided to drive down to Anchorage and get him the biggest apology bouquet she could find. She hoped there were flowers up here this time of year.

Groaning from her hangover, she tapped her phone and pulled up several flower shops. She set her GPS for the nearest one in midtown Anchorage. Danica pulled on a sweater and a clean pair of jeans when a stack of bills on the nightstand caught her eye. She thumbed through them and counted three hundred bucks in twenties and fifties.

A sticky note sat next to them in Bryson’s scrawl: Your dance tips fell out of your thong.

“No!” Danica tossed the bills onto the bed as if they had covid and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I did this!”

Nothing compared to the heartbreak of disappointing your soulmate. Regret was a two-headed monster that speared her chest. She had to at least text Bryson. She tried composing her message, but the words jumbled.

How could I have done this a third time? How does a person make up for three broken promises?

The sad truth was that she couldn’t. She gave up on the text message and tossed her phone into her purse.

Danica put on her coat and stepped into the garage. A blue Prius sat next to the space that the truck had occupied. Bryson said it had snow tires, but she couldn’t tell the difference. No matter. She had to make things right. She’d personally deliver the flowers to the hospital with a formal, written apology on a beautiful card.

At least it was a start.

Bryson was in delivery, so Danica left a colorful bouquet with the labor and delivery nurse’s station, along with the most apologetic card she could find. She also left him a box of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies from a nearby bakery.

It began to snow as she pulled out of the parking lot and pointed the car toward the mountains. She didn’t remember how to get to the home on the upper hillside, so she typed the address into her phone’s GPS. But when she came to a fork in the road, her GPS cut out, and the street sign was covered with blowing snow. She made an educated guess, hoping for the best.

As Danica urged the small car up the road, the snow intensified, similar to their first drive up here. Humongous snowflakes pummeled the windshield, and the wipers barely kept up. The Prius didn’t have four-wheel drive like the truck, so she took it slow. The tires spun as the road steepened. Wait, this couldn’t be the road to the Cooper’s house; it didn’t seem familiar—this narrow road led higher up the mountain.

Great, all I need now is to get lost.

She picked up her phone when a tall four-legged form darted in front of her.

Oh no! A moose!

She swerved to avoid hitting it but skidded into a ditch to the left of the road.

“No!” she yelled as the left two wheels slipped down, tilting the Prius in a precarious position.

For a split second, Danica expected the car to roll over. If she opened the driver’s door, it would surely tip. She tried to restart the engine without luck. She hoisted herself over the consul to the passenger’s side and struggled to open the door, which was heavier with the tilted car. She clawed her way out, grunting like a weightlifter.

Reaching into her pocket for her phone, she brushed off the snowflakes and tapped Bryson’s number. No answer and his voicemail was full. She tapped Bryson’s work number he’d keyed into her phone.

A woman answered. “Good afternoon, Mercy Hospital.”

“Hello, this is Dr. Cooper’s—um, girlfriend. Is he available? I need to speak with him.” Girlfriend sounded lame. Saying ‘fiancée’ would have more credibility, but it might freak Bryson out.

“I’m sorry. He’s in surgery,” the woman responded in a business tone.

Danica’s stomach knotted. “Please have him call me as soon as he’s available. Thank you.” She ended the call and glanced around at the snowy, silent woods. Thank goodness she’d missed the moose, which was long gone.

Now what? It made no sense to sit here. She’d walk up the road to find a house. Danica bundled up, wishing she hadn’t worn her short jacket and boots with three-inch heels.

She set out tramping through the snowstorm. It was tough to determine whether the landscape was hilly or flat; everything looked like a flat white wall. After half a mile, she stopped. She debated whether to turn around when a muffled car engine hummed ahead of her.

Encouraged, Danica picked up her pace until a large, imposing home came into view. She squinted through the blowing snow and plodded through an open wrought-iron gate on the snow-drifted driveway leading up to it.

A man climbed out of his car as she approached.

“Excuse me, but my car slid into the ditch down the road.” She pointed.

“Oh, sorry about that. Do you need a tow?” He sounded friendly enough.

She nodded. “I swerved to avoid a moose, and I can’t get it started.”

“You must be chilled. Why don’t you come in and warm up? You can call for a tow.” He took off his stocking cap and shook out his blond hair. She noted movie star looks.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Danica welcomed the chance to thaw out and dry off, as the snow had saturated her from head to toe. The lack of warmth from her short waist jacket left her shivering.

The guy gave her a once over. “Do you live near here? I’ve not seen you before. My name’s Devin.” He held out his hand. “Devin Rasmusson.”

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She shook his hand. “I’m Danica, and I’m only visiting. Don’t know my way around.”

“Come in to warm up.” He led her inside his home with grand cathedral ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. It occurred to her this place must cost a fortune to heat.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, motioning to a lengthy sofa.

Danica wondered how many women had fallen for this guy’s deep-dimpled smile. He had an uncanny resemblance to Bryson. She reached inside her pocket for her phone.

Oh no, it’s gone!

She thought about back-tracking to find it, but it was snowing so hard, there was no use.