Page 11 of Quiver

This was her town. Her home. Her friends. She’d never once turned up her nose at this place or turned her back on anyone who lived here. Letting Kylie keep her holed up or away from the people she cared about on Christmas would be giving her entirely too much power. Her natural defiance rose, and she patted her leg impatiently.

Bear glanced up, and she smiled at him. “You’re not torn at all, are you? You’d love to go see Ava and Gram.”

Those were two words he knew, and his tail wagged excitedly.

“Yeah, ’cause they spoil you and give you pets and treats.”

The t-word registered, and he began to dance from side to side.

She grinned. “It is Christmas. I guess treats aren’t totally out of line today. Come on.”

She snagged her lambswool-lined denim jacket off a peg and threw it on over her black Henley. Thankfully, few people in rural Vermont stood on formality, and none of those who did hung out at Ava’s parents’ house.

Bear hopped in the truck beside her and watched eagerly as they drove into town. He began to whine as he recognized the route and the anticipation got the better of him.

She laughed. “You’re too smart for your own good. You’d be better off if you were a little dumb. Then you could be pleasantly surprised instead of guessing what’s coming.”

She scrunched up her face a bit at the irony of the statement, but he didn’t call out her hypocrisy.

As soon as she opened the door he bolted across three snowy lawns right up the front porch. When she didn’t join him quickly enough, he ran back to get her, his thick, dark fur rustling in the breeze he created.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming.” Grabbing his collar, she realized she was about to show up empty-handed, but she didn’t get the chance to worry for long because the door flung open and Ava’s cousin Howie said, “Merry Christmas, Fletcher.”

“Same to you.”

“Ava, Fletcher’s here,” he called over his shoulder, and stepped aside to let her in. “Can I take your coat?”

“Sure.” She slipped out of the jacket, switching hands to keep Bear under control until Ava appeared to take him.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she cooed as she crouched down.

“I assume you’re talking to him,” Fletcher said with a hint of cheek.

“You had your chance,” she said, then smiled up at her, “but I’m still glad you’re here.”

“Sorry I didn’t bring anything for the potluck.”

“You brought the best thing. My parents will be thrilled to have some time with their granddog.”

“And my great-granddog.” Ava’s grandmother came to greet them both, but unlike most people, she turned to Fletcher first, patting her cheek softly. “Happy holidays, you good-looking hunk of horsewoman.”

She laughed. “It’s good to see you, too, Gram. Have you missed me?”

“You know it. My granddaughter brings home the most handsome women I’ve ever seen, but you haven’t brought over your beautiful horse to take me for a ride yet this year.”

“Ha, I should’ve known you were sweet-talking me to get to Winston.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not a bit.” She made a mental note to drive him over to her farmhouse next time they got a sunny day after a fresh snow. “We’ll stop by soon if you promise to bake a pie.”

“Cherry for you. Apple for him.”

She grinned, already certain she’d made the right decision in coming over even though she hadn’t moved past the entryway. The deeper she got into the house, the more the love and warmth saturated her senses. Ava’s mom piled a plate high with food, her husband pressed a whiskey on the rocks into her hand, neighbors and extended family all shared holiday wishes and bits of local gossip.

She had a drink, a dog, and good people who seemed genuinely happy to see her. She may have caught a bit of the holiday spirit after all.

“Honey”—Kylie’s mom turned around as they all got out of the car—“does your father have the meatballs?”