The UnLucky Recommendation
1079 Words
The next morning arrived with a crisp, diamond bright clarity. The storm had retreated, leaving behind a world that looked like it had been dipped in sugar. Elara stood on the sidewalk outside the B&B and took a deep breath of the freezing air. For the first time in days, the air didn't taste like stale coffee and disappointment.
She decided to walk toward the city mall. If she ever made it to her childhood home, she couldn't arrive empty handed. She needed gifts for her nieces and nephews, and with her schedule crumbling by the hour, she knew this might be her only chance.
The walk was like moving through a dream. The streets were alive with the kind of holiday magic she usually only saw in movies. Children in bright red snowsuits chased each other through drifts, their laughter ringing out like bells. The smell of cinnamon roasted almonds drifted from a street cart, and every shop window was a symphony of gold lights and evergreen boughs.
Near the entrance of the mall, a man in a velvet Santa suit was ringing a bell. He had a real white beard and eyes that crinkled with genuine kindness.
“Merry Christmas, miss!” he called out as she passed.
Elara stopped and reached into her pocket, dropping a few coins into his red bucket. “Merry Christmas, Santa. Do you think you could put in a good word for me? I’m having a bit of a run-in with the weather.”
The man chuckled, a deep sound that shook his belly. “The snow only falls where it’s needed, dear. Maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Elara smiled, though she didn't quite believe him. “I hope you’re right.”
She spent an hour in the mall, picking out wooden puzzles and soft, hand-knit hats. Carrying the colorful bags, she stepped back out into the cold, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. She was halfway across the plaza when a familiar shadow crossed her path.
She didn't just bump into him this time; she nearly tumbled right into his chest.
“Whoa there,” a familiar voice rumbled. Steady hands caught her shoulders, holding her until she found her balance.
Rowan Hale stood before her, looking even more imposing in the daylight. He was wearing a different coat today, a rugged leather one that looked like it had seen its share of work. He looked down at her, a playful glint in his blue eyes.
“You know,” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, teasing tone. “We really should stop meeting like this. People might start to talk.”
Elara felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she managed a small laugh. “I promise I’m not stalking you. It’s just the city. It’s smaller than I thought.”
Rowan didn't let go of her shoulders right away. He tilted his head, studying her face. “You still haven't told me your name. I can’t keep calling you the girl from the lobby.”
“Elara,” she said, her voice finally steady. “Elara Winters.”
“Elara,” he repeated. The way he said it made the name sound more elegant than it ever had before. “I’ve lived here a long time, and I know everyone in this town. I’m guessing you’re just passing through?”
“In transit,” she sighed, gesturing vaguely toward the airport. “Or trying to be. I’m heading to my childhood hometown for the holidays, but the sky has other plans.”
Rowan frowned, his gaze shifting to the bags in her hands and then back to her face. “And you’re staying at that B&B? Why?”
“A woman at the airport suggested it. She said it was affordable.”
Rowan made a quiet sound of disapproval. “It’s a tourist trap, Elara. It’s overpriced and the heating is a suggestion at best. As a local, I think I can suggest something a little better. Better price, better view, and far away from the airport noise.”
Elara looked at him, guarded. “I’m flying out tomorrow. Hopefully.”
“Then you should spend your last night somewhere that doesn't smell like mothballs,” he said. He gestured toward his truck, the same dark, powerful vehicle she had seen through the window. “It’s a cozy cottage I manage. It’s empty for the next few days. I’ll show it to you. If you don't like it, I’ll drive you right back to the old lady and her crosswords.”
Elara hesitated for a heartbeat. Every instinct told her that accepting a ride from a handsome stranger was a bad idea, but there was something about Rowan Hale that felt solid. He was an architect. He built things to last.
“Alright,” she said. “Show me.”
The drive took them away from the busy mall and into the quiet, wooded outskirts of the city. Rowan drove with a quiet confidence, pointing out landmarks as they went. When he finally pulled into a narrow, snow-dusted driveway, Elara gasped.
The cottage was beautiful. It was a small, stone building with a cedar shake roof and wide windows that overlooked a frozen pond. A thin trail of smoke curled from the chimney, and the porch was decorated with simple, elegant white lights. It looked like a sanctuary.
“This is it?” she whispered, stepping out of the truck.
“It’s quiet, it’s warm, and the water pressure actually works,” Rowan said, standing beside her.
Elara turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I can’t believe this is here. It’s perfect.”
“It’s yours if you want it,” he said, his gaze lingering on her. “At least for tonight.”
“I’ll do it,” she said, a sudden spark of excitement hitting her. “I’m going to go get my stuff from the B&B and book in here tonight. Before I fly tomorrow, I want one night where things actually feel right.”
Rowan nodded, a small, satisfied smile touching his lips. “I’ll drive you back to get your bags. Let's get you out of that lobby for good
- Writer
