Page 117 of Snowed Inn

When Luca finally met Jesse, he took one look at the flannel and announced, “So you’re the lumberjack she fell for in the snowstorm. I owe Nonna twenty bucks.” Jesse just grinned and said, “Double or nothing says I’m not leaving.” And that was it—he was in.

I think they’re all already planning the wedding. It’s fine. I’ve given up fighting it.

As for Jesse?

Still wears his ball cap like it’s part of his head. Still calls me principessa upon occasion for old times’ sake. Still kisses me in a way that makes me want to swoon. He drives me crazy in the best way, makes me laugh when I’m in a mood, and once sent me a voice memo that just said “You’re amazing” when I was having a bad day.

Yep. Absolute boyfriend goals. And for the life of me, I can’t remember what logic I was operating under when I decided not to throw myself at him on day one.

I sigh and glance around the lobby until I spot Ellie near the coffee bar, not-so-subtly staring across the room.

I hurry over to her. “You’re being weird,” I say, stepping up beside her.

She doesn’t even blink. “Watch this.”

I follow her gaze.

Charlotte—who is still dating Miller—is laughing at something Sawyer Donovan just said. Which wouldn’t mean much, except Charlotte doesn’t just laugh with Sawyer. She tilts her head, tosses her hair, and does the thing where she pretends she’s unimpressed even though she’s definitely impressed.

I narrow my eyes. “So?”

“Just wait.”

And then—boom. It happens.

Sawyer reaches out and tugs on the end of Charlotte’s ponytail.

Charlotte freezes. Then she blushes.

Ellie lifts a brow. “See it?”

“Yep,” I murmur. “Clear as a trending hashtag. He’s definitely flirting.”

“She’s toast,” El says, sounding far too self-satisfied.

“What about Miller?”

She shrugs. “Something tells me he’s not gonna be around much longer.”

I pluck at my bottom lip. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

El just grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Across the room, Charlotte pretends she isn’t blushing.

But she totally is. Ladies and gentlemen, seems our favorite love triangle is back on. Prepare the popcorn.

As for me?

I curl up next to the fire, pull a dark-green cashmere blanket over my lap, and scratch Cece behind her ears while Jesse crosses the room to bring me a hot cider—and kiss my temple like he does a hundred times a day now.

He bought me a ball cap with the Mockingbird logo on it. I wear it once in a while . . . in bed.

The fire crackles. The music hums. It looks and sounds like something straight out of a Hallmark movie, exactly the kind where a high-powered career woman gets stranded in a small town, meets a rugged local, and rediscovers the meaning of life.

Because it is. And this time, I didn’t just stumble into the movie ending—I wrote it myself.