Page 93 of Mistletoe All the Way

“It’s a deal, Mr. Anti-Christmas.”

He seals it with another kiss, one that feels hopeful, and a little poignant too. Sort of like the holidays.

27 ENDORSED BY REINDEERS

Noah

Sure, I could wait till the night of the dreaded pitch. But Gramps is a man who appreciates honesty. I spend so much time playing my cards close to the vest, but if last night with Eloise taught me anything, it’s that being up-front can pay off. I need to let him know my plan. Better than surprising him at the last minute.

A quick look at Priya’s online schedule tells me the first sleigh ride isn’t till later this morning. I drive straight to the farm, spotting Gramps on his way to the barn. Resolute, I jog to catch up.

“Oh!” He startles, then laughs. “Wasn’t expecting to see you for another hour.”

“There’s something I wanted to tell you,” I say, diving right in.

His expression sobers, maybe a knee-jerk worry I’m about to deliver bad news. “What is it?”

I don’t want to disappoint him if he thinks I’ll be living here if I inherit the farm. He deserves the truth. Telling him might hurt my chances, but I’d rather put my cards on the table now. I want Gramps to trust me to manage this place well, and the truth ought to help my case.

“If you decide I’m the man for the farm, I’m going to run it from afar,” I tell him, meeting his gaze. “I’m taking on a bigger role at my practice back home when Alonzo steps back. But if you want me to shepherd Silver Bells, just know I have a plan to hire good people here where we need them, to keep working with the stable manager and the other farmhands, and to honor what you and Mom built.” I scrub a hand across my jaw, steadying myself. “And I want to expand it into an animal sanctuary as well. Like Mom would have wanted.”

Gramps swallows, rolls his lips together, then nods. After a beat, he says, “I’ll need to hear more about that when you make your pitch. But I appreciate that you’re bringing this up now.”

That’s a relief, his reaction. Though not a surprise. He values honesty, and I have to wonder if he knows Stephen’s situation. But I’m not sure I’ll ever have the answer.

“I can picture it, Gramps,” I say, soaking in the acres of foothills, the land where I learned to ride, where taking care of all creatures great and small became part of my soul.

“Good. That’s how it should be.” He claps my shoulder. “Now, I’ve got to get to work.”

That’s another way to show him I mean what I say. I can do more than drive the sleigh. “Let me help.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

So I spend the next hour mucking stalls while he grooms the horses—just like when I was a kid and he taught me everything about this life.

“No. Just no. Absolutely not. Never.”

Eloise can’t be serious. Endorsed by reindeers was supposed to be a caption for a godforsaken social media post, not a T-shirt covered in an illustration of a reindeer.

We’re outside the barn, at a picnic table, under a heat lamp where she holds up the shirt across her jacket, jutting out a hip. “It’ll look so good when we go to the town tree decorating this afternoon,” she says, reminding me of the photo op like she’s enticing a kid to take his medicine. Like we need to offer Churu to Sal the barn cat when it’s shot time.

I’m on a short lunch break and she brought me a fake-chicken sandwich, but now I suspect it was a front to show me that wretched T-shirt she wants me to wear to the event that’s not even the next contest challenge. It’s just a chance to promote the competition with a bunch of pictures of contestants hanging ornaments.

I take a bite of the sandwich, but I’m wondering now if it’s an Eloise bribe for me to wear that thing to the tree decorating. After I chew, I try to explain nicely. “Endorsed by reindeers was just a quip. An offhand remark.”

She waggles the shirt my way, seeming undeterred. “And it was inspiring enough for a T-shirt. I even showed them to my mentor this morning. Fable is a jewelry designer and a sports team owner, but she’s also made a lot of merch and thought this might be a fun line of tees.”

“It’s barely noon. You did all that this morning? After you left my brother’s house?”

She spent the night with me, and it was the best night of sleep I’ve had in ages. Maybe ever. Her curled up next to me, her hair fanned out across the pillow and my shoulder, her scent floating past me as I dreamed.

Dreams of her.

But I can’t let that distract me.

“I did. It didn’t take long,” she says.

“Do you have more time in the day than a regular person? Do you have a secret clock that turns your days into twenty-five hours long?”