She feigns a gasp. “I would never.”
I chuckle.
We both know that’s a lie.
Birdie’s an animal activist, determined to rescue every creature in need and convince everyone in her orbit to adopt them. She should have become a politician or a used car salesperson because when she gives you those puppy-dog eyes, it’s impossible to say no.
I was the exception until she called two months ago, begging me to save Maple, a four-month-old miniature Highland cow. She was found neglected in a backyard petting zoo a couple of hours from here. My answer was no, but when Birdie video-chatted, pleading with me on camera, my resolve crumbled.
Maple was only supposed to stay for a week while Birdie arranged transport for her to Montana, but I’ve since learned she planned for me to keep Maple all along.
“Face it, cousin. You adore Maple,” Birdie teases.
“I do not.” I yank my hand away from Maple’s shaggy coat even though Birdie isn’t here to see me petting her.
“If you say so,” she hums.
Sure, Maple is cute and even does tricks, but that doesn’t mean I want her here. I’m just doing my cousin a favor. As if to call me out on my bullshit, Maple nudges her fuzzy forehead against my arm, refusing to move until I give her a good scratch. She knows this is her forever home, even if I try to deny it.
“You could’ve at least come to Montana for the holidays. I can’t stand the thought of you spending Christmas alone,” Birdie adds.
“It’s just another day. I’ll be fine.”
She invites me every year, and every year I turn her down. She doesn’t understand why I’d choose solitude on the mountain over time with family.
When I was with my ex-fiancée Danielle, she went all out, demanding a massive tree and new decorations each year, caring more about gifts and showing off than about the sentiment behind the holiday itself. When she left, I realized that material things could never replace the joy of spending time with family and loved ones.
After that, I spent Christmas with my parents. Even though it was my mom’s favorite holiday, she viewed it as an opportunity to serve others and spread kindness. It gave me a new perspective on the kind of partner I wanted. Someone who shared a similar sentiment and valued giving and connection over extravagance and flashy displays.
I never did find that person, and once my parents passed away, Christmas lost its magic—the cheer and traditions lost their meaning without the people I cared about most to celebrate with.
“Besides, my hands are full with an unwelcome guest who showed up at my cabin earlier,” I add, not bothering to hide my irritation. “A woman thought she booked it for a week, but she was scammed. Now she’s stuck here until the storm passes.”
“Is she pretty?” Birdie blurts. “Or better yet, is she single?”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “Pretty sure Noelle’s in her twenties. I have no business being concerned about her relationship status.” That didn’t stop me from checking her out as she stood on my porch, her golden hair dancing in the wind.
“Age is just a number when you find the right person,” Birdie retorts.
“All I care about is that she leaves when the storm lets up.”
No matter how much I hope that’ll be tomorrow, realistically, there’s only a slim chance Noelle’s convertible will make it down the mountain, even if by some miracle the weather clears up by morning.
“Right,” Birdie says, her amusement vibrating through the line. “You ignored my first question, which means she must be pretty.Reallypretty.”
I shake my head. Birdie has a talent for getting under my skin, much like a certain blonde, blue-eyed vixen who’s probably taken over my bathroom with her hair and beauty products by now.
“She’s not half bad,” I answer.
I’m not about to admit that Noelle might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, or that I can’t stop thinking about the way her smile lights up her face. Still doesn’t change the fact that I want her gone.
“Careful, cousin, or you might end up keeping her like you did Maple,” Birdie teases.
“Alright. That’s enough conversation for today.” I give Maple a pat on the rump before leaving her stall. “I’ve got to finish up with the animals before the worst of the storm kicks in.”
The cabin is a half a mile away, and the ride back on the snowmobile can be brutal once the wind picks up.
“Be safe out there, and text me once the worst of it is over. And don’t go falling for your mystery woman,” she says playfully.
