AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.
The point is that Christmas is really, really, really special. And some people don’t get that. But Reindeer Falls? Reindeer Falls gets it. Christmas is magic in Reindeer Falls. It’s why I moved here. I met Lexi in college and she invited me to go home with her during Christmas break one year when I was especially desperate to avoid the bickering that awaited me back in Phoenix.
One visit is all it took.
The second I got a look at Reindeer Falls I felt like I was home. The Christmas parade, the holiday market, and the Bavarian architecture were all just icing on the cake. Or the icing on the gingerbread house, as it were.
For me, it was kismet.
Reindeer Falls was my true home. We were meant to be.
Which is why I’ll never take it for granted. A place can only stay this magical if everyone does their part to keep it that way. Rudolph might be the star, but that sleigh doesn’t fly without the other eight reindeer. Not that I believe in Santa Claus. Not really. But the idea of a magical Christmas town? Yes, I definitely believe in that.
So yes, when I found a job as a Reindeer Falls holiday enforcement officer, it was a dream come true. A match made in heaven. Like Santa and Mrs Claus. Or hot chocolate and whipped cream. The bow on a wrapped gift. The sprinkles on a sugar cookie.
Better. Together.
Thus, I take my job seriously. And I don’t miss anything. Because it only takes one bad apple to spoil the whole barrel. Not that I care about apples, but the sentiment is sound. What I care about is Christmas. Very specifically, Christmas in Reindeer Falls. And like apples, it only takes one house to ruin the entire barrel—err, street. A single undecorated house smack in the middle of Candy Cane Lane and the entire vibe is ruined.
Which is why there are rules about this sort of thing. If you don’t protect the integrity of something as important as the décor along Candy Cane Lane, the next thing you know people stop caring about the hundred little details that make Reindeer Falls so special. It all starts with one tipsy domino, one rotten apple, or one house that goes rogue and ruins it for everyone.
If you’re not careful, it can all fall apart in the blink of an eye. First the houses on Candy Cane Lane fail to adhere to the decorating ordinance. Then the only Santa you can book for the town square is a college student in a padded suit with a cheap beard. Before you know it, people begin to flock to some other town where they hear the snow is fluffier and the sugar plums are sweeter and your entire life falls apart.
I mean, Christmas. Your entire Christmas falls apart.
Not on my watch.
The worst part is the audacity, I think as I write out yet another ticket with a grunt of disapproval, my breath making little clouds in the freezing air. Home ownership comes with responsibilities. Especially at Christmas.
But most especially Christmas on Candy Cane Lane. It’s the route of the Christmas parade, for crying out loud. Christmas lights are not optional.
It’s not something that everyone can appreciate. I know Lexi and Sutton don’t quite get it, but they’ve never had to drive through a subpar light display. They’ve never had to ask their parents what snow is or why Santa forgot to come. Stuff like that never happens here, and I intend to keep it that way.
And I don’t care who the offenders are. Or how hot and popular they were in high school. If you’re in violation, I’m coming for you.
I click my pen shut and slap the ticket to the door. I haven’t met Ryan Sheppard yet, though this is my third visit to his newly inherited home. Every time I stop by, the whole house is dark, though I could swear I hear people inside. But maybe it’s better that I don’t meet him in person because I might have some decidedly not-Christmassy things to say to him.
With a final glare, I pull my pom-pom hat a little farther over my ears and turn to make my way down the steps.
Or, at least, I try to make my way down the steps.
Instead, I crash directly into a wall. A male wall. A wall made out of rock-solid abs holding up a perfect, tall body that stretches at least a foot above me. Which, yes, isn’t exactly a feat since I am small. Petite, some might say. Adorable, I’ve been called, much to my annoyance.
But this man. This man is a giant in comparison to me. And when I look up into his face, I’m sure I’ve just slammed into a Sheppard brother. Because not only does he have rock-hard abs, he’s attractive.
