Page 2 of All Snowed Gin

“Such a good girl.”

“I’m just glad that she and Jack finally found each other.” Merry checks her bet and turns to Fawn.

“They wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for us,” Fawn reminds the other two.

Both other women nod in agreement.

“I thought that was never going to happen no matter how many times we kept signing Dawn up to volunteer with Jack at Parks and Wildlife.” Merry rolls her eyes.

Fawn shrugs. “They finally stopped fighting it.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” Fern says.

“I already said that.” Merry stares at Fawn.

“Who cares? It’s still true.”

“We need more weddings.” Fawn checks her bet and Fern deals the last card.

“No one is close to dating, let alone marriage.” Fern studies her cards in her hands before lifting her shrewd gaze to the five cards on the table.

“Neither were Dawn and Jack last year and look at them now. On their honeymoon.” Merry clasps her hands together and the cards in her hand crinkle.

It wouldn’t be the first deck to be lost to their lack of attention. And it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Fawn asks.

“Same thing we always do,” Fern responds. “Let’s see, there’s Pierce and Hudson. Either of whom would be a catch.”

“Don’t forget Robyn or Elle. But not for either of those boys.” Fawn taps her lip as she adds to the list.

“No, all four of them are ready for something special. Something spectacular. It’s…” Fern’s voice fades as her attention shifts back to her cards.

“It’s matchmaking time,” Merry says and gasps when Fawn pushes in all her chips.

“All in, ladies. Who’s next?”

1

ROSE

Thick, bright white snowflakes fill my windshield, my hands gripping my steering wheel so tight that my knuckles are white. Yup, that’s correct. I’m white-knuckling it.

Given these narrow, winding mountain roads, it only makes sense. The last thing I need is to go slipping and sliding. One good fishtail and that could be the last of me. No thanks. Not what I need. Especially only a few days before Christmas.

"Sorry, Dustin,” I say out loud, turning down my stereo so I can see better. Yes, so I can see better. Everyone knows that’s how it works. And as much as I love listening to Dustin Wild, hometown boy turned country mega star, croon “Mary Did You Know,” now is not the time. I need to concentrate.

It seems the slower I go, however, the harder the snow falls. That shouldn’t be how this works, right? Surely, I’m imagining it. I’m also not about to test out that theory either. My happy little lead foot has been retired for the moment. At least until we are back on a main road or it has stopped snowing.

Which can happen at any time. Really. Please.

Until then, I’m going to be thankful for my Jeep. This gal might be as old as I am, but she runs like a dream. Thanks to the world’s best mechanic, who just so happens to live in my hometown of Hickory Hills, Georgia, she’ll probably run for another ten.

The thought of Hickory Hills sends a pang through me. It’s been a month solid on the road—the last two weeks of which were spent in Nashville—wheeling and dealing on behalf of my bosses. Thanks to me, Southern Brothers Brewing will now be featured in fifteen new establishments across the southern United States, including six in Nashville alone. That’s on top of Fire Lights, the honky-tonk owned by Dustin Wild, a major attraction for those hitting up Broadway. It was a very successful trip.

One that I thought was going to be topped off by a quick little detour into the mountains. Emphasis on quick. They just looked so pretty as I was driving through Mistletoe Creek, a sleepy little town I pass every time I’m on my way to or from Nashville. That’s when the idea hit me. A promo photo of all our bottles in the snow. It was perfect.

At least until the clouds rolled in. And by rolled, I mean rushed. Those babies came out of nowhere. One second it was perfectly sunny and beautiful, a light layer of snow on this rock outcropping I found sparkling in the rays. The next it was gray and overcast, the temperature dropping by the second. Then the snow started.