Page 61 of Mistletoe All the Way

I spin around and think fast. Honey’s decked out from head to hoof, with her Christmas mane and her braided tail. If Stephen’s a copycat, we’re going to need to find a way to hide a horse—something that’s impossible with only stall doors between Stephen and the horse. I scan the barn at Mach speed. There are bales of hay with ribbons on them. Lots of driving collars and harnesses. Plenty of saddles.

But none of that will obscure a very pretty pony.

Stephen’s footsteps grow louder. He must be near the doors now.

I spot a pile of blankets for the sleigh rides. They’re a few feet away. I dart over, grab two, and toss them to Noah, whispering, “Cover her up.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Catching them easily, he tosses one over Honey’s head. The other he spreads out on her body, stretching it to her tail as I adjust the one on her head.

She’s covered now. But shoot. The evidence of her parade costume sits right there on a bale of hay.

“Hide the ribbons,” Noah mutters out of the side of his mouth as the door groans open slowly.

I grab them, and with no other options, I do what any woman would do. I stuff them into my bra in record time.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Stephen entering the barn, right as Noah says under his breath, “A ribbon is hanging out of your shirt.”

Dammit. I grab the errant ribbon, and stuff this one into my jeans. It’s out of sight and in the nick of time, since Stephen has entered and turned down the row of stalls. He’s smiling curiously at us, head tilted, considering me, considering Noah, considering… Honey.

I blink.

Noah’s draped the red blanket on Honey like a cape, with the white underside looking like a hood around her long, lovely muzzle. Honey looks like Little Red Riding Hood.

“What is up with that horse?” Stephen asks.

“The better to eat you with,” Noah says dryly.

“Huh?”

Stephen’s clearly not familiar with the source material.

“She was cold,” Noah says, answering clinically.

“Right. She’s old, isn’t she?”

Noah’s eyes turn fiery. He pats Honey’s shoulder protectively. “She’s exactly the age she’s supposed to be.”

“And she’s very, very wise,” I add, because… fuck him.

“Okaaaay.” Stephen rocks back and forth. “Anyway, speaking of eating, I stopped by for lunch, and Grams and Gramps wanted me to let you know it’s ready. So you can come join us.”

Stephen leaves, and I can breathe again, even though I feel awful. That was all my fault, since I suggested we practice here. Once he’s out of earshot, I turn to Noah. “I should have been more careful. I never thought he’d show up since I’ve always seen him in his red sports car, pulling up to St. Nick’s Hangout in the midmorning.”

Noah tilts his head, the corner of his lips curving up as he removes the blankets, tossing them to me. “You’re a little spy.”

“I’m just observant.”

“Hardly. You’re a social media strategist and a spy. Fast on your feet too. What will I uncover about you next?”

My chest flips from the unexpected praise as I fold the blankets and put them back on a shelf. “I guess we’ll see.”

“We sure will,” he says, unbraiding Honey’s mane and tail, then handing me the ribbons. I return them to the canvas bag, along with the ones from my bra.

Noah emerges from the stall, the door creaking, then looks me over. “You’ve got one more ribbon,” he says, pointing to the waistband of my jeans.

Are you kidding me? A silver ribbon hangs out of my pants. I tug it out, and once it’s free, Noah grabs it from me.

“What’s that for?”