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“Or he just didn’t want to spend his Christmas in Reindeer Falls alone,” Lexi says. “Which makes sense.”
“He’s not alone,” I say. “His brothers are here. And the dog.”
“The dog belongs to Carter now,” Lexi says, sounding miffed. She pounds back a cookie, mumbling other things that I can’t make out around the mouthful of crumbs.
“If he left, he’d have to be driving,” Sutton offers. “All flights out of Detroit were cancelled.”
Huh. Driving from Reindeer Falls to Chicago? In this weather? It seems ridiculous.
Ridiculous and unsafe.
And it’s not that I care about the Grinch. I don’t. But I’m not sure I can deal with the guilt if something were to happen to him. And it would definitely put a damper on the holiday, which goes against my code as a holiday enforcement officer.
I glance at my watch. It’s been a few hours since Ryan left my office in a huff. Plenty of time for him to have packed up and headed out.
“I’ve gotta go,” I announce. “My vote is for the Christmas tree farmer, okay? And I promise we can read whatever boring memoir you two want in March. I swear on Santa Claus.”
“Should you really be doing that so close to Christmas?” Lexi gasps, looking genuinely shocked.
I flip her off, grab my jacket and rush out of there. I don’t even bother to put it on as I race to my car, which means the snow threatens to bury me in the cold.
An elf should know better.
But I’m not thinking straight.
I’m thinking a guy like Ryan doesn’t own snow tires. And he definitely does not drive a Jeep. Probably a fancy sedan that drives itself—straight into a snowbank.
There’s only one thing for an elf to do.
I flip my car’s ignition on and turn Mariah Carey up to full blast as I drive off into the snowstorm.
Chapter Seven
The sight of a snowbank is actually very pretty, if you really look at it. The snow shimmering in the dying sunlight of another lovely Reindeer Falls day, a great big mound of white that catches the light and tosses it around. The power of nature. It tells you to stop whatever you’re doing and pay attention because this kind of magic doesn’t come around all the time.
Just like Christmas, really.
Of course, the effect of said snowbank is a bit less magical if you’re the one in the flashy BMW poking out of the side of it.
What was he thinking, driving that kind of car through the snow? One look at his tires and there clearly aren’t any chains on them. This arrogant prick really thought that he could turn his middle finger up to Mother Nature and Father Christmas and get the hell out of Dodge—or, in this case, Reindeer Falls—without any consequences.
Clearly, the spirit of Christmas is on my side once again. It saw an opportunity to convert Ryan and seized it. It used a snowstorm to trap him, so he can give the holidays and his hometown another chance.
This is why I love Reindeer Falls. It’s like every holiday movie you’ve ever seen comes to life here. But with the possibility of sex.
I mean, maybe. But since Ryan’s stuck here now, it’s definitely possible.
Unfortunately, Ryan doesn’t appear grateful for this intervention. Poor clueless sap. He’s standing outside his BMW in shoes not meant for winter, staring at his phone like he can’t believe he can’t get a signal on a deserted two-lane highway. And something tells me he isn’t trying to get a hold of the North Pole.
“Looks like you could use some help,” I say, pulling up beside him and calling out through my open window.
He sees me and shakes his head. “Let me guess,” he says, with a rueful grin. Or perhaps it’s a resigned grin. Either way. “You’re also the town Uber driver?”
I laugh. I don’t know why I’m so delighted by this jerk, but delighted I am. “You’re an idiot. Most of us just know better than to drive a luxury sports car around in a snowstorm. Need a ride? I have snow tires.”
He eyes my Jeep. “Can you get me to Chicago with your snow tires?”
I step out of my car to look over the mess he’s gotten himself into. Mariah is still blaring from my radio. I might have All I Want For Christmas Is You on repeat. What can I say? It’s catchy.
I gesture for Ryan to get in. “No Chicago anytime soon, Cityslick.”
Ryan runs a frustrated hand through his tousled hair. It’s damp, on account of the snowflakes still falling. He should look like a wet sea otter right now, but of course he doesn’t. Nope. Still hot, even stranded by the side of the road and growing wetter by the minute.
I mean him, not me.
Okay, fine, me too.
There’s just something very enticing about this guy. He’s not what I’d have put on my Christmas list, but you know how sometimes Santa sneaks a little something into your stocking that you didn’t even know you wanted and it ends up being your favorite?
