Page 5 of Mistletoe All the Way

I blast Michael Bublé’s Christmas hits to drown out the thoughts of that frustrating and frustratingly hot man.

Thank Santa he’ll likely be gone before the shopping season hits full swing.

3 LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED. NOT.

Noah

As I pull up outside the veterinary office my brother runs here in Evergreen Falls—when he’s not in San Francisco, that is—I can’t help but laugh.

With WTF in his eyes, Chris marches across the sidewalk, phone in hand, waving it at me like a weapon. The passenger door’s yanked open, and he hops in the truck. “Seriously? You’re already pretending to be me?” Chris shoves the picture of me at me.

“And it’s even easier now that you’ve got a beard too. It’s about time.”

He sighs, leaning back in the seat, muttering, “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re doing this already. I really shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining when you asked me to fire that guy who was stealing from you last year,” I point out, pulling away from the curb.

“That’s because you’re better at being mean than I am.”

“And I’m ahead in our game. Is that what you meant to say?” I glance at him, then back to the snowy side roads of Evergreen Falls as I steer toward our grandparents’ place.

“Never,” Chris mutters, then sits up straighter, like he has an idea. “But now that you mention it, turns out my wealth advisor charges fees way above the market average, and I need to…”

He can’t even say the words fire him.

But I can, and it’s always a good thing if Chris owes me a favor. “Name the time and place, and I’ll pull the plug.”

“You’re vicious.”

“Thank you.”

“Was it a compliment though?”

“Feel free to try to fire him yourself. A grand says you’re so nice you’ll wind up offering to pay him a bigger fee.”

Chris huffs. “Deal. I guess you have your uses,” he grumbles, then taps the pic I sent him from the gas station before he sets his phone down on the console. “But tell me—what kind of damage do I have to undo this time?”

My mind flicks to the fiery brunette with the sneaky mind. That was damn impressive, the way she played me. Still, guilt needles me. She’d seemed offended when I insulted her excessive Christmas spirit. But, in my defense, that was a lot of holiday spirit. And she dished it out as well as she took it.

Oh, shut up. You were the bigger dick.

If I see her again, maybe I’ll say I’m sorry. But odds are I won’t run into her a second time. The sooner I get through this weekend, the sooner I get out of town and back to work in Colorado, the better. Still, since I’m here with my brother, one of the few people in this town I love, I return my focus to his question of damages.

“It was a no-harm-no-foul situation with a pretty and far too cheery woman who needed some help with a flat tire,” I say, though that’s not true. She didn’t need a lick of assistance. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll get back at me soon,” I tell Chris as I turn down Wonderland Lane.

The familiar sign looms ahead: SILVER BELLS SLEIGH RIDES. A sign that reminds me not only of the seasonal sleigh rides that Gramps offers here but also of the love of four-legged creatures this very horse farm instilled in my brother and me when we were kids growing up in Evergreen Falls. A love that was shared by our mom, who spent hours grooming the horses with us, teaching us to feed them without getting our fingers chomped. Who then showed us, along with Gramps, how to drive a sleigh with just reins and words—no crop needed. “We don’t ever want to hurt the horses,” she’d said.

I blink off the memory, and the words to live by, my mind boomeranging back to the present and the brunette I met earlier.

Has she ever been here for a sleigh ride? Hard to believe a jolly like her wouldn’t have.

Best to get her out of my head though.

I steer the truck onto the gravel driveway and toward the barn, a bright red sleigh gleaming out front. The farm sprawls at the edge of town, ringed by towering evergreens dusted with snow. It’s so picturesque and exactly the kind of thing tourists love, which is why they’re here in the spring for grad photos, in the fall for hayrides, and now for sleigh rides from the day after Halloween till Christmas.

Another reason for me to get out of town quickly.

The big white farmhouse rises on the hill, and as soon as I cut the engine and unbuckle Rusty to let him out, the front door to the farmhouse swings open.