Page 1 of Hot Mess Christmas Express

Chapter One

“The bitch wants fake snow,”Sienna Sloan hissed into her phone with gritted teeth.

“She’s not a bitch, she’s a bride,” her sister, Kellie, corrected her. “A very, very particular bride.”

“She’s a bridezilla. And a bitch.”

There wasn’t much of a difference in Sienna’s mind, and this was not the time for semantics. Right now she needed to figure out a way to make this wedding happen and keep this woman happy. You know, no biggie.

Figuring out how to make snow in Georgia was not what Sienna had in mind when she had agreed to help. No, agreed was not the right word. Acquiesced. That was a better way of putting it. Voluntold was even more accurate.

The Sloan family had owned the Seven Swans Inn on Somerset Island, just off the southern coast of Georgia, since the Somerset family had bequeathed the island to the state in the 1950s. Just forty-five minutes from Savannah, Somerset Island was home to pristine beaches, a world-class golf course, bike trails, and historical landmarks, making it an incredibly popular vacation spot—and a highly sought-after wedding locale.

Originally owned by her grandparents, and now her parents, Sienna was the only member of the family who wasn’t employed at the Seven Swans. Of course, that meant nothing to her parents, who still expected her to help whenever they needed her. Or to her sister, the inn’s wedding planner and event coordinator, who Sienna was sure had not thought twice about calling her this morning to fill in for her.

“Look, S, I know this isn’t your idea of a good time. And I know I owe you one—” Kellie said.

“More than one, Kel. You owe me, like, ten.”

“Fine, ten. But I’ve been throwing up all night. If you think this chick’s attitude is bad now, can you imagine what it would be if I had to run away and puke?”

Her sister had a point. Vomit was not what anyone wanted at their wedding. Actually, vomit wasn’t something anyone wanted ever. But that didn’t change the fact that Sienna didn’t know how she was going to pull snow out of her ass on an island, in Georgia. Even if it was two days before Christmas.

“So what do I tell her?”

“Remind her that snow, fake or otherwise, was not part of her contract. That you understand she wants a Christmas wedding and everything that goes with that, but this is the south, and snow is not our thing,” Kellie answered, letting out a yawn. At least Sienna thought it was a yawn. “Then tell her she’s pretty, and no one will notice the lack of snow because they won’t be able to take their eyes off of her. She’ll be so caught up in hearing yet another person tell her how pretty she is that she’ll forget about the snow. Then all you have to do is shoo her down the aisle, so she can become the groom’s problem.”

“Other than the reception.”

Standing under the large white tent setup, taking in all the opulent table decorations and the staggering number of place settings, Sienna could only imagine all the things that could possibly go wrong. Music from a string quartet wafted her way, the ensemble greeting guests over in the side garden where the ceremony would be held before they made their way over to the terrace for the reception.

“The reception will run itself. They hired Jolly as the DJ, so he’ll keep them entertained, and the new catering manager runs a tight ship, so she will not let anything slip when it comes to the meal.”

Sienna let out a huff, hating how easy her sister made this all sound. There was a reason she hadn’t stayed on the island and worked for the family business. She hated this. Of course, it’s not like her life in Savannah was going any better, but that was a different story altogether.

“Fine.”

“We do over a hundred weddings a year at the inn. I promise you, well-oiled machine. Just think of the bride as one of the doctors on your route—a little flattery and she’ll be eating out of your hand.”

“Is that what you think I do all day, look hot and push pills?” Sienna snarked. Not that she could deny it—on a basic level, it was kind of what she did. Pharmaceutical sales might not be her dream job, but she’d put a lot of effort into learning what she needed to know. Just because she sometimes took advantage of the five-foot-nine lean body she’d been given simply meant she knew her audience. An audience that liked when she came to visit.

Most of them, anyway.

“No, I know you work very hard and are very knowledgeable about your products. But I also know that you put that killer Sienna smile to good use to charm them into listening to you, so you can show off what you know,” Kellie replied. Sienna rolled her eyes, not wanting to credit her sister with being correct. When she didn’t reply, Kellie continued, “Thank you for doing this. I know it’s not how you wanted to spend your few days off for Christmas, but—”

“Puke, I get it,” Sienna said, cutting Kellie off. If they didn’t stop talking about it, Sienna was pretty sure she might just start throwing up herself. “Go take a nap, eat some dry toast, and I’ll call you later.”

Sienna hit the end call button on her phone, letting out another huff of annoyance. Kellie was just the queen of understatements today. Not how she wanted to spend her few days off for Christmas—you think? She got very little vacation time and had been looking forward to some time relaxing at home, seeing old friends on the island, and not talking about the latest and greatest development to cure psoriasis—or whatever the disease du jour was. A couple of days where she could be herself.

The self that still dreamed of having her own graphic design business. Of putting that very nice—and very expensive—master’s from Savannah College of Art and Design to good use. Most days her fingers itched with the urge to let her creativity out. To design and create to her heart's desire—to make the world more beautiful. Instead, she worked a corporate job where the only creative part of her left was her hair color. Hell, even that had been subdued over the years. She’d gone from having all sorts of fun, multicolored locks to a single, simple shade. At least it was a non-traditional color. Sort of.

“Arrrggg!” A strangled cry cut into Sienna’s thoughts, pulling her out of her pity party and back to the matter at hand. “That motherfucker just bit me!”

Sienna twirled around in time to see one of the resident swans sauntering away from a man in a tux. He was standing there, left hand holding the outside of his right as he stared down at it. Glancing back at the swan, she didn’t have to look very hard to know which one it was. There was only one biter among the bunch.

Fucking Kurt…

“Kurt, shoo…go away,” Sienna said, scrambling to herd the ill-tempered waterfowl back toward the pond on the side of the inn. She’d always disliked that damn bird. “Are you okay? I’m so, so sorry about that. He’s a bit temperamental.”

“I’m fine,” the tall, dark stranger answered, still rubbing his hand. Sienna assumed he was a groomsman from his get-up, and she hurried over to check out his hand. “Bastard didn’t break the skin, but it’s definitely going to leave a hell of a bruise.”

The groomsman lifted his head slowly, his eyes taking another long moment to rise to meet hers. But the second that they did, Sienna felt her heart stop. She knew those eyes. They were the same whiskey-colored ones that were seared into her memory for all of time. Right along with the way they had made her feel like the only woman on earth—shortly before making her feel like the biggest loser on earth.

Dr. Caleb Winters.

“Hi,” she managed to spit out, shocked to see him here. The six-foot-two muscular descendant of a Greek god, complete with a chiseled jaw, stared back at her, his gaze becoming more intense. He quickly pulled his hand out of hers, swallowing hard.

“Sienna.”

Yup, I’m still a leper…

"What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone accusatory. As if she had shown up just to ruin his day.

“My family owns the place. I’m the makeshift wedding coordinator since my sister is sick. What are you doing here?”

“I’m the best man.”