Page 63 of The Christmas Dash

Marilla isn’t about to wait for Gabe to get on with the feeding. She takes matters right into her own hands. Or her own snout, as it happens. She nudges Gabe betwixt the legs, hard enough that he doubles over with a cry, spilling the bucket onto the ground at his feet.

Gabe lets out a moan and folds himself almost in half, sucking in deep breaths to regain his composure.

The reindeer happily begin munching on their food.

“Are you okay?” I ask him as he hobbles to the gate. He looks a little pale, and he’s biting his lip as if to hold in a curse. I know it’s not something to laugh about, but I’m fighting a smile.

“Never better,” Gabe deadpans as he scoops up the now-empty bucket and limps out of the pen.

“I didn’t realize you and Marilla were on such, ah, familiar terms. We can give you two a minute, right, Felipe?”

Felipe snickers as Gabe shoots me a dirty look before cracking a good-natured grin. It falls when Felipe says, “They’ll need a fresh bale of hay out there, too, Gaber.”

If Felipe is amused by Gabe’s predicament, he doesn’t show it. Nor does he show any mercy.

Gabe looks like he wants to argue, but at Felipe’s arched brows, he presses his mouth into a firm line and hobbles back to the barn.

Just before Gabe’s out of earshot, Felipe mutters, “Doesn’t the boy know I’m giving him a chance to impress you with his manual-labor skills?”

“Oh, no.” My pulse spikes. “Gabe and I are just friends. No need for him to try to impress me.”

Felipe turns his strong stare in my direction. “If the boy brings you to the farm, he’s trying to impress you.”

My mouth opens to protest, but I slam it shut. Felipe is confident in his assessment of Gabe. Now I’m wondering who he’s brought to the farm before.

Why does this make me queasy with jealousy?

I’m being ridiculous.

First of all, the past is the past. As I’ve told myself—and Gabe—ad nauseum.

Second of all, Gabe can date whomever he’d like. See: Viola.

Third of all, I don’t want to date Gabe.

Do I?

My mental gymnastics do a belly flop when the man in question returns carrying a hay bale on his shoulder. I try not to be impressed by the way he effortlessly lifts it like it weighs nothing, but I’m fighting a losing battle. Gabe looks good doing farm chores. There’s no way around it.

Felipe might be on to something.

This time, when he enters the pen and the reindeer trot his way, he tosses the hay bale into the center of the fenced-in space away from where he’s standing, before they can get too close to him again. The reindeer change course and head for the hay. Gabe turns to leave the pen, but Marilla stops and follows Gabe. She lowers her head and butts her impressive antlers into his rearend.

Gabe jumps a foot into the air, and I can’t stop my laugh.

“Marilla!” Gabe shouts. He hurries out of the pen and swings the gate shut behind him before turning and pointing a finger at me. “And you . . . you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I bite my lip and nod. “You look right at home out here.”

“Some things never change.”

I turn to see Felipe’s gray eyes twinkling. “Marilla and Gabe have always had a special bond.”

“Yeah, she, um, seems very happy to see you.”

Gabe makes a face at me. “Get your head out of the gutter, Collins.”

“I’m not the one getting to second base with a reindeer, McKenzie.”