Page 103 of Mistletoe All the Way

As we work, the damn idea doesn’t vacate. It grows legs. Knocks on my brain.

Until Chris checks his watch. “I need to get to the clinic. I have a couple appointments.”

I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but the words fly out of my mouth anyway. “Can you shoot a video of me?”

32 A THIRSTY GIRL

Eloise

I check the time, making sure I can still get to the farm this afternoon. I made arrangements with Hank, but I didn’t tell Noah.

For now, I thank the minor-league team’s center for coming to visit the kids here at the local hospital, then straighten up the lounge where the guys have been hanging out and playing video and board games. As I put the last game away, there’s a rap on the door.

I turn around, and it’s Fable—my mentor and the co-owner of the hockey team.

“Great job setting this up,” the confident redhead says. “I thought it went well.”

Praise from the boss. I’ll take it. “So glad to hear.”

I gather my canvas bag and head down the corridor, my shoes clicking on the tiled floor as machines whir and beep from hospital rooms.

“How’s it going with the efforts to win over the town?” she asks as we reach the stairwell.

“The mayor is hard to read,” I admit, trotting down the steps to the main floor. “She seems pleased. But she’s sort of a pleased…”

I’m reluctant to say it, but Fable supplies, with a sly grin, “A pleased hard-ass?”

I laugh, then shrug in admission. “Your words.”

“Yes, that’s Mayor Bumblefritz. But even if it doesn’t work out with the town, I have some good news. The Christmas tree farm is interested in talking to you about work,” Fable says. “They’ve seen what you’re doing, and they’re very impressed.”

I stop in my tracks at the landing. “Really?”

“Yes. Contact Coretta and close the deal,” she says, pushing open the door. Then before she leaves for the main exit, she adds, “Oh—and I see the Cowboy Vet is blowing up this morning.”

Must be from the song-spoof pics last night. That has to be it. After she takes off, I hustle across the parking lot and slide into my red truck, ready to click over to the Cowboy Vet feed.

Only, there’s a message from my mother blinking back at me. Darling, I know you’re having a good time with this contest, but best not to bring it up at Christmas Eve dinner. Let’s focus on other things, shall we?

I’d like to ignore the message, but this tension in my gut won’t go away till I face it. I reply with Got it. Talk less. Smile more.

Seconds later, she writes back: And you have a lovely smile.

Not sure that’s the point, but I’m feeling like I’ve paid the ferryman, so I click away from her text and hop on over to the Cowboy Vet feed.

Where…

What the hell am I looking at?

Are you kidding me?

My jaw hangs open. I didn’t know he had this in him.

I was already planning on seeing him later today—I know it’s an important anniversary—but I beeline straight to the farm, feeling a little like I’m flying. I find him in the barn, hanging reins on a hook. The smell of hay swirls past me as I march across the hard-packed dirt and shove the phone at him. “Who are you?”

He smiles. “I take it you approve?”

“Just a little bit,” I say, then gaze at the eye candy on my phone once more—a collection of thirst traps he must have posted on the feed. I gave him the log-in credentials when I set it up, figuring he’d never use it but that it was only right he have them.