Page 32 of Mistletoe All the Way

“See? You’re a gold mine for social.”

He rolls his eyes. “Hardly. I don’t think you can get content from my life. My cabin is pretty simple. Just me, my dog, and my horses.”

Cabin. Horses. My hand flies to my mouth in excitement. My skin goes all tingly. I lower my hand and try to contain my enthusiasm. “You have a cabin and horses? This just gets better and better. I’m already picturing it. Decorations, music, a fire. But don’t worry—you’ll feel like you’re running 26.2 miles instead of offering up a vital organ. And I won’t even be there for long, since I have an early flight tomorrow. I want to be back at my hotel at a reasonable hour.”

For a flash of a second, maybe more, his expression falters, almost like he doesn’t want me to go.

But that’s a silly thought to entertain, so I barrel on. “I’ll stockpile content tonight and dole it out till you return to Evergreen Falls. It’s going to position you so well for Mr. Holiday. It’ll be so Christmassy, and your grandpa will love it. Then we can add more photos and videos while you’re competing in Mr. Holiday.” Before he can complain, I go for the pièce de résistance. “Stephen has socials, and he’s good at it.”

Noah gives me his address so fast. “I’ll see you at my place.”

He’s shaking his head as he walks away, like he can’t believe he just invited me over. Or, really, accepted my insistence on an invitation.

But he stops at the entrance to the hallway leading to his vet practice, turns around, and says, “What do you like to eat?”

It takes me a second to connect the dots. “You’re going to order something for us?”

“My mother always taught me if someone comes to your home, you should cook them a meal.”

I fight off a smile. A man who can cook. Maybe I can get pics of him in the kitchen too.

“Nothing with a face,” I say.

The corner of his lips quirks up. “Same.”

When he turns to walk off, I call out one more time. “Noah?”

“Yes?” he asks, spinning around.

“Nice hat.”

With a grimace, he yanks the hat off his head and stares icicles at me. I have a feeling I’ll pay for that later.

12 HO, HO, HUCKLEBERRY

Noah

I’ve checked on the horses in their stable at the edge of my property. Given them their feed. Left on a warmer since it’s cold tonight. Freshened up their water. Now I’m inside at the stove. An elf pulls into my driveway as the sky darkens, and the scent of eggplant, artichoke, and cashew sauce fills my mountain home. I set the spatula for the sauce down on the spoon holder on the counter, wipe my hands on a kitchen towel, then head to the sturdy oak door.

Rusty pops up from his dog bed in front of the fireplace—the only place he finds acceptable for winter, since he likes to bake all day and night—and barks at me in question.

“Yeah, we’ve got a guest, buddy. It happens every now and then.”

He wags his tail.

“Traitor.”

He wags it harder.

“Be right back,” I tell him, then shove my feet into my snow boots and head outside, where the temperature’s dropped in the last hour.

Eloise stands in my driveway wearing jeans, boots, and a puffer coat, and staring at the tree tied to the roof of her rental car. Her mittened hands are parked on her hips, and she seems deep in thought.

Talk about déjà vu.

“Let me guess—you just don’t know how to undo a knot?”

She turns to me, flashing a too innocent look. “That does sound awfully confusing.”