A Kiss of Winter: A Second Chance Christmas Romance (Dreams Fulfilled Book 3) Read online

  A Kiss of Winter

  A Second Chance Christmas Romance - Dreams Fulfilled Book 3

  Scarlett King

  Contents

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  Synopsis

  1. Andi

  2. David

  3. Andi

  4. David

  5. Andi

  6. David

  7. Andi

  8. David

  9. Andi

  10. David

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  Preview of His Hidden Love

  Chapter One - Wicked Game

  Chapter Two - I'll Be Seeing You

  Chapter Three - Let’s Get Lost

  Chapter Four - Faded

  Other Books By This Author

  ©Copyright 2020 by Scarlett King - All rights Reserved

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  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Synopsis

  Andi Carter and David Delgado are best friends and partners in a ghost hunting organization in Upstate New York. They also used to be married—but they don’t like to talk about that. It was a mistake, they were too young...and there were some issues in their sex life. Once again—they don’t talk about it. Of course, now they’re back in the land of unresolved sexual tension, Mulder and Scullying their way through cases—except that he’s the skeptic.

  * * *

  They hear about a bizarre case in picturesque Phoenicia, and head out to a bed and breakfast to investigate for themselves. Once there, the romantic setting creates hilarious levels of awkwardness as their memory of their comically terrible first try intrudes on any hope for a second chance. They try to focus on the investigation, but can’t seem to sort out where the mistletoe came from or how it manages to keep being replaced.

  * * *

  When a few of the locals start flirting with them, unexpected jealousy and rekindling of desire force the pair to work on solving their own romantic issues. Their rekindled passions end up reminding them of the love they share, and give them a second chance now that they are mature enough to form a committed relationship. In that way their hunt is a success, even if the mistletoe incident remains a mystery forever.

  Andi

  David and I don’t talk about our short-lived marriage. It gets in the way of our friendship and our partnership. We’re supposed to be trying to explain the inexplicable—of the paranormal variety, not the romantic—and bickering about our ill-fated romance isn’t the way to do it.

  * * *

  We were so young back then, and though he was never able to satisfy me when we were both inexperienced and didn’t have a clue, being cooped up with him in this romantic little town has me noticing how much David has changed—and has me wondering just how much he’s truly learned in the years since we broke up.

  * * *

  With mistletoe hanging everywhere in this town, there’s no doubt that love is in the air. But can that love be ours, or did we already waste our one chance? ’Tis the season for many things, but are we brave enough to let it be the season of second chances?

  David

  Once upon a time I was a complete idiot—too damn young and inexperienced and cocky to boot. And because of that, I messed up my chances with the woman I’ve always loved.

  * * *

  Unrequited love is never easy, but it’s a whole hell of a lot harder when it includes a successful business and a lifelong friendship. Even years after I blew my chance, I just can’t let go of the feeling that Andi is the only one for me.

  * * *

  I never want to see Andi hurt again, so when she comes down with a mysterious winter-related illness, all my protective instincts come creeping in. I’ve already lost this woman once, and I’ll be damned if it happens again.

  * * *

  Now I just need to make her see that we’re worth a second chance—and if I need to let a little Christmas magic run its course to make that happen…well then, who am I to say that miracles don’t exist?

  1

  Andi

  “Good morning, sunshine!”

  David strolls in through the connecting door between our suites and pulls the curtains aside on all the windows, sending thin winter sunlight trickling into the room. He’s got that shit-eating grin on his handsome face that used to annoy me back when we were married.

  I lob my pillow at him, eyes bleary, but my aim is still perfect after five years. It bounces off his chest, and he looks down, then snorts and scoops it up. I roll over and bury my face in my remaining pillow. “Go away! It’s freezing and before nine.”

  “Yes, and this is the Catskills. People start their days at dawn here—we’re missing chances for interviews. Besides, it was your idea for us to spend our Christmas up here.” The slight edge to his voice reminds me of how hard it had been to sell him on this investigation when I first learned of the events transpiring in this town.

  Our partnership as paranormal investigators—just like our friendship—survived our disastrous six-month marriage with little more than some awkwardness and regret. But here I’ve had to live with him again for over a week and a half, and it’s reminding me of why we broke up. “Yes, I know. Just give me…half an hour.”

  I have also always hated that he’s a morning person.

  “Nuh-uh. You decided to spend half the night driving over to the county hospital to chase down those frostbite cases, and you straight up told me that you didn’t want us knocked off schedule because of it.” He comes over and crouches down beside the bed, so his face is level with mine. “So get your cute ass up. We have a mystery to solve.”

  He was right. And it wasn’t just any mystery, either. It was the paranormal event of a lifetime—a genuine Christmas miracle that started almost two weeks ago with thousands of witnesses. It was an event so enormous that even news and social media have noticed and have been rationalizing and celebrating it instead of denying it outright.

  Within a week of the first sighting on December 23rd, Phoenicia, New York, had already gained the nickname Mistletoe Village, becoming a destination for romantic-minded snow bunnies from all over the East Coast—and beyond. The bed and breakfasts have filled up, people are renting out spare rooms in their houses for some extra cash, and over a hundred couples have gotten engaged here so far. Tourists, reporters, bloggers, and curiosity seekers are mingling with the local population, filling up the restaurants, cafes, and bars as the early January chill drives them inside.

  I can hear the rustle and chatte
r of the crowd down on the street even through my double-glazed window. Dammit, he’s right.

  I sigh into my bedding and roll over to look at David. He’s cute, both in personality and looks, and I really like the guy. But I also find him really annoying at times, which is part of why the whole marriage thing never worked out.

  We’re still best friends though, and I wouldn’t be able to run Astraea Paranormal without him. He’s the tech half to my lore half. While I’m doing interviews, conducting research, and recording EVPs, he’s checking for magnetic fields, seeking rational explanations, and making sure that whatever we come up with can’t be easily debunked. He also handles the technical and scheduling details, making sure we can get where we need to be and do what we need to do—and do it on time.

  And that’s why I’m waking up on January the third in a bed and breakfast in the Catskills with my ex-husband in my face.

  “Dammit, Dave,” I grumble, but I know he’s right.

  David Delgado, tech genius and occasional jackass who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, flops into a bedside chair as I drag myself out of bed. He’s the classic tall, dark, and handsome type with thick, coffee-colored hair, big brown eyes, and an easy smile. To top it off, I know he’s got an amazing body under that turtleneck and jeans—but I don’t let myself think about that any more.

  When he was younger, he was almost cherubic looking. But he was also a bit of an immature pain in the butt back then, so…it was a trade-off.

  And that brings us to Reason Number Two that we should never have married: we were too damn young to know what we were doing—in and out of bed. It would have helped if David had taken instruction better, but I have my own faults, too.

  I rub my eyes, blinking several times. “Unh. Okay. My notes from last night’s interviews are on the laptop. Take a look at them while I clean up.” I push myself out of bed as he gets up to go for my laptop case.

  As I walk past him, I hear his breath catch. Still half asleep, I haven’t pulled my sleeping shirt down to cover where it’s ridden up my thighs in back. I grumble and tug the hem down over my ass, remembering how I used to love turning him on by accident like that.

  “Y-yeah. Okay,” he replies like a startled kid. I can’t help but smile a little. Okay, well, maybe I still like it some.

  My marriage to David was the biggest and most regrettable mistake I’ve made in my life. We were too young—in our early twenties—and though David is sweet and would never hurt me, he was even more in over his head than I was. He was too immature and irritating to live with, and it sometimes felt like I was helping to raise my younger brother all over again.

  As I scrub off in the shower with the door open, I hear him clicking away on my laptop. “I’m really starting to think someone is messing with our investigation,” I hear him sigh.

  “That Jack Whitman guy?” I think about Whitman as I lather up my hair. He’s a local—and a world-class skier, snow sculptor, and billionaire playboy with an eccentric father. Mischievous, creative and—I’m starting to suspect—probably the reason why we’re here.

  He also happens to be ridiculously sexy in that slim, toned, sleek way that is almost androgynous. With his pale white skin, black hair, his father’s brilliant blue eyes, and one of those smiles that light up the street, it’s a real shame that he’s even less mature than David.

  “Whitman and whoever else is conspiring with him to do this. There is absolutely no way that mistletoe could just appear hanging just about everywhere in the entire town, with new sprigs somehow popping up every night, without an awful lot of help.” I hear more typing.

  “You’re presuming that nothing paranormal is going on.” I have soap in my eyes. “Crap.” I bend into the spray to rinse it out and then rinse out my hair, enjoying the hot water on my skin. New York winters leave a chill that’s hard to get out of your bones, but a shower or a soak does the trick, even if only for a short while.

  “It’s my job to presume that nothing paranormal is going on.” He taps a few keys. “Did you actually find out anything from the nurses?”

  “They wouldn’t let me record, but I got some follow-ups. The Marysville Hospital serves this entire area, and until they get an accident or a bad bug going around, they’re usually pretty quiet.” I turn the water off and stand in the steam, rubbing conditioner into my thick auburn hair.

  “So the frostbite thing stood out?”

  “Not for that in particular. They get frostbite cases every year, and there was just a big storm. But no. I was pretty much able to verify that it was the two troublemakers we’ve been tracking, though.” I massage the conditioner through my hair, keeping half an eye on the open door through the steamed-up shower glass. I’ve caught David peeking before.

  “How did you manage that? Bribery?” He sounds intrigued.

  “Not really. They didn’t violate anyone’s privacy by actually naming names. But their description of ‘that redhead diva bitch who claimed she got frostbite on her nose out of nowhere and then exploded when the surgeon said amputation might be necessary,’ sounds a lot like Andrea Case. And ‘that drunk biker who was in here twice in three days for frostbite and for getting maced by the other patient,’ sounds an awful lot like Daniel Gates.”

  “That’s a good point.” More typing. “Oh, great…you finished the write-up of your interview with them last night?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to get it down in writing while it was fresh.” I hate interviews where they won’t let me record.

  “This is eight pages. No wonder you’re worn out. What time did you finally get to sleep?” Now he sounds worried, which makes me feel a bit guilty.

  I shake it off after a moment. “I wasn’t looking at the clock.”

  “Tch. You work too hard.” I hear one of the interviews start to play: the one with Jack.

  “All right, so,” I hear my own voice, which sounds tinny and strange in recordings. I try to ignore that as I listen. “Please state your name, age, hometown, and occupation for the record.”

  Jack’s laughing voice takes over. “My name’s Jack Frost, as I told you before. I’m ageless, I live at the North Pole with my father Saint Nicholas, and my job is bringing the fall colors and the winter frosts.”

  A long, awkward pause. “I understand that you’re in character for the kids and all, but—”

  “Oh, is that what I’m doing?” His tone teases me.

  “Does this guy have to troll us each and every time that we get him on camera?” Delgado grumbles. “Hurry up. I want to go over this stuff with you before we grab some breakfast.”

  “I’m not entirely sure that he is trolling us,” I say thoughtfully as I rinse out my hair. “He does have a weird sense of humor, but so does his dad, and these are the guys who made sure the local food bank had a surplus right before the holiday.”

  “Do you think he and his dad are delusional?” he asks seriously, stopping the video.

  “I don’t know. But if they are, it’s the most benign delusion ever. As far as I can tell, pretty much everyone up here loves them, even if nobody past the age of five believes that they’re anything but ordinary people.” I finish the shower and close the door most of the way so that I can towel off and dress.

  “Okay, yeah. I admit his dad is pretty cool. But I don’t trust this guy.” He hesitates then says slowly, “He’s wasting our time. And he keeps hitting on you.”

  I stop short in the middle of pulling on my long underwear, hearing a faint alarm bell go off in the back of my head. He’s not wrong; Jack is a flirt.

  That’s not the problem. The problem is that after all this time, David should know better than to be jealous. And yet I’m hearing that tone in his voice.

  It takes everything I have to keep the awkward laugh out of my own voice as I finish dressing. “He hits on every woman who’s over the age of eighteen and isn’t wearing a ring. What’s your point?”

  Another pause. “Oh.” He sounds a little calmer suddenly, and I roll
my eyes. “Well, he just annoys me.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s a bit immature, and immaturity is annoying.” So is jealousy, especially when it’s coming from a guy who had his chance and blew it. “Give me a minute, and let’s go over the new stuff before breakfast.”

  I have to get things back on track. If David is starting to think of me as his again—if he’s getting jealous—then we have a problem. We’re on the brink of proving the paranormal origin of an ongoing town-wide phenomenon. I don’t have time for David’s romantic regrets.

  Or my own.

  2

  David

  “So according to the nurses, the biker was recovering from hypothermia and mild frostbite when he was picked up by state police.” I lean toward the laptop screen with Andi beside me, trying to ignore how nice her freshly-washed hair smells. I really don’t have time for inconvenient boners.