Stuck in Christmas (Holiday Magic #1)

Chapter 4

Four

“Shut the front door,” I swore.

How the heck was I stuck in another freaking snowbank? How did I get here? I just took a shower and changed out of these wet clothes, and yet, here I was again, right back where I started in Christmas, Mississippi.

Maybe this was one of those time slips you read about online. You’re walking down the street in 2024, and suddenly, you’re transported through a rip in the space-time continuum and stuck in 1908, where you have to deal with not being able to vote or have a credit card, but the men were manly men, and soda still had real sugar, and cocaine in it.

Or maybe I hit my head and slipped through stones, and any minute now, I’d meet a hunky virgin Scot with great legs and a backside that will forever live in my dreams when I’m forced to go back through…

I shook my head.

This was freaking ridiculous.

This was neither a fairy story nor a best-selling time-travel romance .

This was my life. Whether or not I believed in what was happening, it didn’t change the fact that I was stuck in Christmas, Mississippi, seemingly living the same day over and over.

I needed to get it together, fast, because my 35-year-old body couldn’t take more of the getting banged up part.

“Miss?” Joe’s voice brought me back to - my reality, it would seem.

I hopped up and grabbed his arms. “Joe. Something is wrong.”

“How do you know...?” Joe started, confusion etching across his brow.

“Never mind. Come on, we need Bonnie.”

I dragged him through the diner's door, those maddening jingle bells echoing throughout the dining room.

“Who might this be?” Bonnie asked Joe.

“Bonnie.” I crossed the room to grab her hand. “There’s something wrong. This is the third time I’ve woken up in your snowbank out front.”

“Eli!” Bonnie’s voice rang out.

Eli emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a flour-dusted apron. “Yes?”

“I told you to shovel that walk,” Bonnie scolded.

“Yes, ma’am. I was going to get around to it, but,” Eli began, shifting uncomfortably.

“If ifs and buts were candy and nuts,” Bonnie began.

“…it’d be Christmas every day.” I finished.

Bonnie stared at me with her mouth hanging open. Eli quirked an eyebrow. “Did you practice that? ”

“It’s a famous saying,” Bonnie replied with a hint of pride.

“I’ve never heard it before you said it to me last night,” I said, the truth settling uneasily in my stomach. “Or the night before. I am starting to lose track.”

“Maybe we should call for the doctor,” Joe suggested, eyeing me with concern.

“No. Don’t do that,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “I’m just stuck, is all. I’m stuck in Christmas, Mississippi. And this has to be a dream, right?”

Bonnie’s expression softened into one of understanding as she looked at me. “I’m afraid you’re not making sense, dear.”

Eli stepped closer, his gaze suddenly serious. “Let me take a look at your pupils.”

I stiffened as he stepped in front of me. “Why would you do that?”

“First aid. If your pupils are dilated, it could be a sign of a concussion. I think,” Eli said, his tone dropping as he searched my eyes for injury.

A concussion could be possible. How many times had I ended up in the snowbank? “You think? Are you a doctor?” I challenged.

“Chef,” Joe replied, a giant smile across his face.

My heart beat faster as Eli pressed his hand to my face and tilted my head back to look at my pupils from a different angle.

“He’s a world-famous chef from New Orleans,” Bonnie said.

“Ms. Bonnie,” Eli warned.

Bonnie held up two fingers. “Two Michelin stars.”

“That’s impressive,” I admitted. “I’m from New Orleans. Which restaurant were you at? How’d you end up there?”

He shrugged. “That’s not important.”

“Yes, it is,” Joe called from Bonnie’s side.

“No. It isn’t.” Eli gritted and studied my other eye.

“It’s a great story,” Bonnie prompted.

“For another time. We’re talking about a possible concussion here. That’s more important than whether my life story is great or not,” Eli’s voice brooked no more arguments from his family. He stepped away from me, and the loss of heat chilled me more.

I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm up. “I don’t have a concussion. I’m just stuck. And every time I try to leave, I get turned around.”

“I bet Joe’s directions are to blame,” Bonnie teased, laughter bubbling up among them.

This part of their conversation was funny, even if I’d already heard it three times. But this was also the point that I noticed Bonnie’s pin of the day. “Your pin.”

“Isn’t it beautiful? It’s three French hens. Joe got it for me on our third Christmas as a married couple. Probably ain’t worth more than a quarter, but it’s got sentimental value.” Bonnie chuckled, her affectionate gaze lingering on her husband.

More chills piled on the first. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

“I’ll show you,” Eli offered, his demeanor shifting back to that of the concerned chef.

As we walked down the narrow hallway to the restroom, I felt the ground shift beneath my feet. I stumbled slightly, catching myself against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Concern marred Eli’s handsome face.

“No. I’m not okay. I think I’m stuck in a nightmare,” I confessed shakily.

“A nightmare?” His brow furrowed as he processed my words.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“There are much worse places than Bonnie’s to be ‘stuck’ for Christmas,” he ground out, those blue eyes flashing with fire.

I held up my hands between us. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I get it.” Eli shrugged and turned, walking away with an air of finality.

“Eli. I didn’t mean it like that,” I called after him, but the echo of my words seemed to dissolve in the air.

I stepped to follow him, but my foot slid into a previously unseen puddle. Time slowed as I flailed my arms, praying to whoever would listen that I would just fall on the dang floor rather than…

…face first into the snowbank outside.