Better Not Pout (Mistletoe Falls)

by Maren Moore

“But here I am, the hopeless romantic per usual, believing that somewhere out there, there’s a fairy-tale love story waiting for me,”

It’s not that I think love isn’t real, but maybe it’s just not as whimsical as it seems between the pages of a book about a man, written by a woman.

Rosalie’s dream man:

- Tall. Like… really tall. At least 6’1”.

- Bearded, heavy lumberse...

- Muscular, but not TOO muscular in the “I live and breathe the gym type of way.” More so just the kind of way that he could easily pick me up and toss me ar...

- Big di-… Actually, Ken just reminded me who this letter is to, so I should probably keep it PG so I don’t end up on the naughty list (unless that’s a good thing as an adult? I’ll let you de...

- He’ll have a big, close-knit family. A ridiculous number of siblings, or nieces and nep...

- He has to love weenie dogs. This is non-negotiable. I would be the worst dog mom in the wor...

- He’ll need to have an insatiable… sweet tooth. After all, I’m a sweet kind of girl. Can...

- He’s got to be a romantic. The kind of guy who’s willing to go the extra mile. Like… a carriage ride through the town while the snow falls on us, or ...

“Here’s to letting the universe hold the strings. To manifesting the men of our dreams, right here in this mailbox.”

“Here’s to no more dating apps or unsolicited nudes from guys we met at Trader Joe’s.”

Even though it’s silly and adolescent, my heart still does a weird flutter. An uneven skip in my chest, one that I wasn’t expecting. “Maybe it’ll be a Miracle on Main Street, Rosalie Sullivan,” Kennedy whispers beside me. I guess crazier things have happened in Mistletoe Falls.

When I try to imagine being as in love as my grandparents have always been, it truly seems impossible. Like the universe doesn’t make love, relationships, or people the way that it used to.

Mistletoe Falls, a town that feels like it’s stepped off the pages of a cozy, picturesque movie all year round, and I truly couldn’t imagine a more magical place to live.

I can say with a hundred percent certainty that I couldn’t be looking at the manifestation of my dream man from a stupid freaking Santa letter. Right? It is… weird. Like… really weird.

This building has been vacant for years and years, and suddenly, after writing Santa a letter… there’s now a man standing here who is checking off way more of those boxes than feels coincidental.

Tall… check. Lumbersexual… check. EVEN WEARING...

Muscles for all of the nice (and probably naughty ...

I blame that, and the fact that I’m so taken off guard by his hotness, as well as my mind’s correlation to that damn letter, for what comes out of my mouth next. “Did you steal my letter?”

“Yes, my letter. The mailbox between our buildings. Did you take any letters out of

“Not in the habit of stealing other people’s mail, darlin’.”

“And who are you again? Didn’t catch your name when you were accusing me of theft. That or the reason why you’re in my bar.”

Dream Man, She Wrote

The woman standing in the middle of the construction zone that’s soon going to be my bar looks like she’s seen a ghost.

I guess there’s a first time for everything. This being the very first time a woman’s accused me of a crime before she’s even introduced herself. But of all the shit that’s gone wrong with opening this place up, being verbally accosted by the gorgeous, curvy woman in front of me is pretty low on my list of complaints. Because fuck, is she gorgeous.

My sister Scarlett’s been lecturing me for the last year to do something that was meaningful, something that I actually gave a fuck about, and opening Well + Good was an opportunity that I wasn’t going to pass up. It had been a long time since I’d cared about anything after losing my hockey career.

“Wells McCoy. And as nice as it’s been to chat, I’ve got to get back to my delinquent activities. But you know, I’m sure I’ll see you around, neighbor. Thanks again for stopping by.”

“Neighbor, huh?” Collin appears beside me, a smirk on his face. “Think you might have bit off more than you can chew, brother. Bar reno, fixing up your house, hot new neighbor that won’t take your shit? This will be fun to watch.”

I was right about at least one thing when it came to Mistletoe Falls: I would definitely be seeing more of Rosalie Sullivan. I just didn’t realize exactly how much that would be until I ran into her three times in a single day.

Rosalie Sullivan has my full attention, whether I want it that way or not.

Her smart mouth, sharp tongue, curves that go on for days.

“You’re hot as fuck when you’re mad. Bothering you might just be my new favorite pastime.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you here, my darling girl. Your Gramps and I are so lucky to have you.” The words cause a sting of hot tears to prick behind my eyes and emotion to swell beneath my chest. My grandparents might think they’re the lucky ones, but I’m the one who’s lucky. Lucky to be surrounded by family who have always pushed me to follow my dreams. Those dreams just have always been here, with them. At Sweet Sullivan’s. This place is our family’s legacy, and being a part of it means everything to me. I don’t work here out of obligation, but out of love. Because there’s truly nowhere else I’d rather be.

“I think that for someone who claims to dislike her new neighbor, after only meeting him a couple of times in passing, you sure do talk about him a lot.” Her blonde brows wiggle. “I think you actually want to bang him, Rosalie. All up and down that bar. And you’re just pretending that he’s sooo awful so you don’t have to admit it. That’s exactly why you’re being so harsh on him.”

“It’s my duty as your best friend to tell you exactly like it is. I’m just saying, maybe give him a chance. Everyone else seems to love him but you. Not sure I’m convinced that he’s the problem.”

“Well, good thing you don’t need to be convinced at all.” I glare at her. “Now, can we please go eat because I’m so hungry I’m going to pass out.”

“Way to deflect. You know, I bet if you ask him, he’d probably put a Santa hat on his dick too. L...

“Actually, don’t even answer that because I already know that you are, in fact, insane. What the hell were you thinking?”

“That you desperately needed saving from your asshole ex, who came into your store flaunting around his fiancée and her big-ass ring? You know, if anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you? Do you have any idea how much of a mess you just created? You literally just told my ex that we’re dating, and now the entire damn town is going to find out about it before you even walk back out of that door. Hello, Mistletoe Falls? Population four thousand? God, not to mention, now I’m somehow catering his freaking engagement party?” A groan spills out of me. “Could this get any worse?”

“The entire town is going to think we’re dating once word catches. Do you know how humiliating this is going to be for me when Bradley finds out that it was just a lie? He’ll think I’m even more pathetic for pretending to have a boyfriend. I’m sure, given the size of his ego, he’ll assume it’s because I still have feelings for him, Wells! Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Even seeing him today was horrifying, and this just makes it even worse.”

“I have an idea. Just hear me out, okay? So people will think we’re dating… Okay? Fuck it, who cares? Your ex will think you’ve found someone way hotter, with a much bigger di—” I reach up and twist his nipple, and a strangled mixture of a groan and laughter spills past his lips. “Fuck, alright, alright. Alright. Look, what if we just fool everyone for a few weeks, until his party and the holidays are over. Then he’ll be gone, back to wherever the hell he came from, and will have no clue that he got played.”

“Oh yeah? So you’d be fake dating me out of the goodness of your heart? Doubtful. The only thing in that big, ridiculously muscly chest of yours is coal, and we both know it, so why? What’s in it for you?”

“Might benefit from a fake girlfriend myself. A holi-d...

“Trust me when I say I don’t need to beg a woman for anything, Rosalie, unless she’s into that kind of thing, and then I can be a very good boy.”

“I realize it sounds a bit… bizarre, but I’m serious. Just think about it,” he says. “You need a fake boyfriend, and I need a fake girlfriend to solve our problems. The solution is easy: we fake it until after Christmas, and then you can go back to pretending you can’t stand me. Although I think we both know that’s not true.”

“You know, when you put it that way, it sounds so easy. God, why didn’t I think of this on my own? Oh, that’s right… because this is not a freakin’ Hallmark movie, Wells. Fake dating—fake holi-dating—is not a real-life thing.”

“My mom has this thing where for Christmas, all she wants is all of her kids under one roof. At my parents’ cabin up in Cedar Ridge. We’re all spread out over the country in different cities now, and this is the one time a year that we all get together. We put our phones in this present box and do nothing but whatever she has on the itinerary. Board games, family dinners, all kinds of shit. My mom is obsessed with the holiday, so she goes hard decorating, doing everything themed. She’s got a Christmas village collection that’s about as big as the actual house.”