One Tough Christmas Cookie (The Reindeer Wrangler Ranch Christmas Romance Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  “I think we’ve established that.” She smiled. Unfortunately, he did have a point about her dad. The old man loved Christmas with every fiber of his soul, and if he came home to this cheerless house, he’d probably regress in his treatment. Taking a step back, to where she couldn’t smell Caleb’s deep, manly scent that got the butterflies in her stomach drunk, she said, “Fine. If you want to break your back, I won’t stop you.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Caleb said with way too much enthusiasm to not be completely sarcastic.

  “Good luck.” She twittered her fingers at him.

  He yanked down on the pull and a ladder spilled to the floor. Faith jumped back to avoid getting hit. Caleb climbed up without another word. Dust shook off the wood and landed on the carpet. She grumbled and went to the linen closet for the vacuum. A mess. That’s what holiday decorations were—a mess you left out for a couple weeks before finally having to clean it all up again.

  And would Caleb be here to clean it up? No.

  Dad wouldn’t be able to climb that ladder by January. It would be on her to put everything away—and she didn’t want it out in the first place. She vacuumed up the mess but decided to leave the vacuum out because he’d probably bring a bunch more dust bunnies down with him.

  Ugh! That was it. She didn’t need to spend her day cleaning up after this wrangler. She’d go right on up there and put her foot down. No Christmas!

  Chapter 16

  Caleb

  The attic was surprisingly organized. At least, it was compared to Caleb’s parents’ attic. They had more Christmas decorations than most New York department stores. Which was fantastic, because each year the house looked different and yet familiar. Mom was a wiz with all this stuff, but Caleb wasn’t a slouch. Twenty-some-odd years of putting up decorations and hanging out with Kringles had rubbed off on him.

  He grabbed a strand of outdoor lights and hung them around his neck. Hanging them along the roof without a reindeer to help would be dangerous, so he’d have to settle for wrapping the front porch railing.

  The rubber totes were clearly labeled, so it didn’t take him long to figure out what was for the tree and what was decoration. He tried to remember Doc’s place being decorated—the memories were fuzzy. Truth was, they didn’t come to Doc’s that often, as he spent most of his time at the ranch.

  He opened a box labeled fireplace decorations and lifted out a stocking with Faith’s name on it. This he remembered. Doc hung it every year.

  The ladder rattled and Faith’s head appeared. She looked around as if expecting a mouse to jump at her. When nothing happened, she climbed the rest of the way. Her short breaths and flaring—and still adorable—nostrils told him he was in for a fight.

  Hoping to stave off the attack, he held up her stocking. “I found proof that you believed in Santa.”

  She stopped short, staring at the stocking as if it were a ghost. “I remember that.” Closing the distance between them, she reached over to brush her fingers across the fur. “I haven’t seen this since before the divorce.” She took it from him carefully, like she was afraid it would disintegrate if she held it too tight.

  Caleb turned away, sensing she wouldn’t want him to see the emotions painting across her features. “That must have been difficult. How old were you when they split?”

  She swallowed. “Five.” Her eyes glazed over, and she disappeared into a memory. “That first Christmas was hard. I woke up to nothing under the tree, and I cried and cried. My mom held me and said—” Her voice cracked, and she folded in on herself.

  Caleb moved without thinking. He pulled Faith into his arms. Hot tears hit his flannel shirt. “What did she say?”

  Fighting the emotions inside of her, Faith whispered, “She said that we would have had presents if my no-good father had sent us money.”

  Caleb wanted to strangle the woman who was so full of bitterness it had overflowed into her daughter’s heart. “I’m sorry.” He brushed his hand down her back. The lights around his neck creaked.

  Faith sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “I wonder how many of my memories are colored by my mother’s broken heart.”

  “I don’t know. But you should ask your dad about that Christmas. There are two sides. And even if he was heartless and didn’t take care of you—at least you’ll know. The truth has a way of bringing peace.”

  She nodded, looking numb.

  “Hey,” He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face. Her gray eyes were drowning in unshed tears that tore his heart out. “Whatever happens, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re an amazing person who can do incredible things.”

  She shook her head.

  “Faith—I watched you during surgery. You care about Rudy. You care about Dunder and the rest of the herd.”

  Her cheeks twitched with the beginnings of a smile.

  He took courage. “I don’t think you wanted to—but you do care.”

  Her lips spread, but the smile didn’t touch her eyes—yet. He was still working at it. “I didn’t want to.” She choked out a laugh. “Stinking reindeer made me go soft.” She tugged her sleeve over her wrist and used it to wipe at her eyes.

  Caleb pulled her closer. “You are a good-hearted person—it’s one of your better attributes.”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  Caleb reached for that smile. “Your backside isn’t bad either.”

  She laughed even as she shoved away from him. “You are such a cowboy.”

  He held up both hands. “What? I figure that’s one of my better attributes.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’d walk away, but I’m afraid you’d enjoy it too much.”

  “Oh!” His chest puffed up in victory. She was laughing. She was smiling. She was flirting. Three points.

  The faint sound of the doorbell floated up to them. He thought fast. “Tell you what: you finish going through this box, and I’ll answer the door. It’s probably my mom anyway.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was smaller than it had been a moment ago.

  He leaned in and spoke as if talking to a reindeer he was trying to harness for the first time. “It’s just a box.”

  She shoved at him. “Go, before your mom freezes on the front porch.”

  He hurried down the ladder and to the door.

  “Were ya in the back forty?” Mom teased as she handed over a large basket. “This jolly elf is almost a Popsicle.”

  “Sorry.” Caleb glanced under the towel draped over the contents. “This is great. Thank you so much.”

  “Do you want some help decorating? I have an afternoon open.”

  Caleb shook his head. Faith was just starting to open up to him, and he didn’t want to undo the closeness they’d created. Mom was a force of Christmas, and unleashing her on the holiday-skittish woman upstairs would be too much too soon. “There’s not that much to do.”

  “Hmm.” She folded her arms. “Why do I feel like a third wheel all the sudden?”

  Caleb grabbed the door handle and started shutting the door. “Maybe … because you are.” He winked.

  “You remember what I said.” Mom shook her finger at him.

  “I’ll remember.” He shut the door and looked back at the wooden ladder in the hallway. Faith had some pretty intense moments up there. He’d done good by holding her while she’d cried, and his manly pride was about bursting over it. Almost all of him wanted to dart back up the ladder and taker her into his arms again, but a part of him was cautious. She needed a moment to gather herself. He glanced into the basket and grinned. Maybe she needed a cookie.

  “Thank you, Mom,” he mumbled as he headed to the kitchen and pulled out of bag of Mom’s frozen cookie dough. She made giant batches of it, rolled it into balls, and froze them for emergency cookie situations—which happened more often than he’d care to admit in their family of rambunctious men. He clicked on the stove and set to work, hoping he was doing the right thing.

  Chapter 17

  Faith

&
nbsp; Faith got lost in the task of sorting Christmas decorations. Some held memories that were foggy and just out of reach; others smacked her in the face and had her gripping the box for support. One of the things she struggled with was that if her dad wasn’t the bad guy, did that make her mom the bad guy? Or was she somehow the villain?

  None of the answers made sense or settled into her heart, and she grew frustrated.

  She was staring at a paper wreath made from her handprints when she could have sworn she smelled fresh-baked cookies. Strange. She sniffed the wreath, but it smelled of construction paper and not much else. Sniffing the air, she followed her nose to the ladder. Looking down, she found Caleb smiling up at her, waving his hand over the top of a cookie sheet filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

  “What are you doing?” She couldn’t help the smile that filled her face. The sight of a man in an apron and wearing an oven glove was pretty amazing. She hadn’t known she had a thing for men who could cook, but by the way her heart raced, she must.

  “Fishing,” he replied.

  “Fishing?”

  He pointed at the tray. “Bait. Looks like I caught the most beautiful woman in the house.”

  She flushed. “I’m the only woman in the house.”

  He beckoned her to come down. “Doesn’t make you less beautiful. Are you ready for a break?”

  She nodded. “Let me hand you down a couple boxes.”

  He nodded and went to set the cookies down.

  She grabbed the ones that didn’t cause a typhoon of emotions, and her stocking, leaning over to allow Caleb to get a good grip on them before climbing down herself.

  He looked through what she’d selected while she went to the kitchen to wash her hands. There was a plate of cookies as well as the cooling tray. He must have been busy—though she didn’t see any baking supplies. One of the reasons she rarely made desserts was that she was the only one who ate them. Either she gorged herself and then hated the scale for three weeks, or she ended up throwing half of them away. At least with Caleb here, she wouldn’t have those problems.

  Huh. The idea of him staying a couple days with the reindeer wasn’t as scary as it had been that morning. In fact, she was settling into the situation rather quickly.

  The cookies were warm and soft and melted in her mouth, making her moan with pleasure. Caleb walked in just as she was opening her eyes from the moment of ecstasy. “If you bake like this, I’ll stop complaining about you staying over.”

  He laughed as he reached into the fridge and then poured her a glass of milk. “I have it on good authority that Santa’s favorite cookie is chocolate chip.”

  “That’s funny, because I could have sworn Nabisco said it was Oreos.” She took the milk and gave him a look of challenge.

  He leaned against the counter and crossed his ankles, more at ease in this kitchen than she was—even after living there a week. “Perhaps it was. It changes every year.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

  “Can you imagine eating the same cookie at every house you deliver presents? She must get sick of them after a while.”

  Faith paused in her chewing. “She?”

  Caleb coughed into his fist. “Yeah. Uh—let me grab one of those boxes and we can start decorating.” He hurried out and came back in, a huge smile on his face. “This is the fireplace one. It shouldn’t be too hard to set some things on the mantel.” He started unwrapping the figurines, finding carved olive wood statues of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus.

  “These are really pretty. I wonder how Dad got them.” She glanced at the bottom. “Look, they’re stamped ‘Made in Jerusalem.’ I didn’t know he traveled out of the country.”

  “He didn’t. We have the same set given to us by a mutual friend.”

  “Oh, who is that?”

  “The, uh, Kringle family.” Caleb hyper focused on arranging the manger scene. Every line in his body said he didn’t want to talk about the Kringles.

  She’d shook her head. “I’ve never met them.”

  Caleb set his hand over hers, and warmth spread up her arm and filled her chest. “If you stick around long enough, you just might.”

  “We’ll see about that. What’s that thing?” She pointed inside the box. He pulled out a pair of candlesticks. “Those are pretty.” Reaching for them, she allowed her fingers to brush his, anticipating but still enjoying the jolt of attraction from the contact. “He should have them up all year long.”

  “They must be special to the holiday.” Caleb walked the empty box to the bottom of the ladder.

  Faith stared at the candlesticks. They went well with the other décor in the room, and they gave the place a sense of class it was missing. It seemed silly to hide them away for 10 months of the year. She cornered Caleb as he came back into the room. “I don’t get it. What’s the big deal for you all with Christmas?”

  Caleb studied her eyes and forehead and glanced at her lips, making her wonder what it would be like to kiss him. He had wonderful lips. The kind that were full enough to capture her mouth and take control of it if he so desired. Would he desire that? She’d kissed enough men to know that some were wimpy kissers with flappy lips who only wanted to get their tongue down her throat. Ugh! Why was she thinking about kissing and tongues right now?

  Caleb swallowed deeply. When he finally answered her question, his voice was soft and thoughtful, the kind of voice that read the Christmas story by the fireplace on Christmas Eve. “Christmas asks me to think outside of myself. It’s not about what I get, but what I give. I know that sounds hokey.” He rubbed his forehead. “It’s not, though. Christmas really brings out the best in all of us as we try to do more for others. Haven’t you noticed that there’s a special spirit about the season?”

  “Yeah, but mostly I see stores having sales trying to make a buck and people elbowing their way to the front of lines and credit card debt climbing.”

  He stared intently into her eyes, making her feel like she was being looked at. Not in a way that judged her or made her uncomfortable, but like Caleb wanted to understand where she was coming from. Perhaps her view of the world was a lot different from his, but that didn’t make it wrong in his eyes—just interesting.

  She thought back to the Christmas before. “But that’s not all of it, I guess. Many of my regular patients brought in or sent holiday cards and gifts. I was surprised that they remembered me.” She dropped her gaze. Realizing she was still holding half a cookie, she broke off a piece and ate it, embarrassed that she’d said so much.

  “You’re an important part of their lives. Why wouldn’t they remember you?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I’m just the vet.”

  A small line appeared between his eyebrows. “But you care for someone they love—that means something to people.”

  She suddenly remembered Allie, who owned Bella, a borderdoodle. She’d brought Bella into the clinic at closing time, afraid her best friend was at the end of her life. With some medication for arthritis, Bella improved and had a quality of life she hadn’t before. Allie had hugged Faith and cried with relief. She’d felt like she made a difference that day. “I guess,” she admitted.

  She finished off the cookie and dusted the crumbs off her fingers. “What about reindeer? What do they have to do with this whole Christmas thing—besides the commercialism of Santa Claus?”

  Caleb grinned like that was the easiest question in the world. “Reindeer—flying reindeer—are symbols that all things are possible with God. And because they help deliver presents to every child in the world, they remind us that we are all God’s children. Every child should get a gift to remind them that they are loved.”

  She paused. “It’s so easy to forget that.”

  “It can be.” He placed his hand over hers. “It helps if you have people around you who remind you of it.”

  She stared at their hands. Was he telling her he loved her? He’d mentioned that she had worth, that the work she did was important i
n this world. That didn’t translate to love, but it felt very much like she was valued, and she wanted to wrap up in that feeling.

  But she couldn’t allow that to happen. Caleb lived in a fairy-tale world where reindeer and Christmas lasted all year long. She came from a background that was the opposite of his. Heck, she didn’t even put up a Christmas tree. What was the point when she was the only one to see it? Caleb would probably tell her that was the point—that she was worth the effort.

  She grew uncomfortable in that thought. Like maybe she didn’t give herself enough credit, but why should she give more? Why should she believe she was anything special when neither of her parents had believed that about her?

  “Thanks.” She pulled her hand out from under his. “We should check on Rudy and then get some sleep. The pain meds will keep him sedated, but I don’t want to drug him longer than we have to, and that means an early bedtime.”

  He glanced around as if just realizing that outside, the sky had grown dark. “I guess that means we had cookies for dinner.”

  She swiped one off the plate and took a big bite. “I’m okay with that.”

  He laughed. “Somehow, that makes me like you all the more.”

  She laughed. “Who wouldn’t like a woman who eats sugar for dinner?” Especially a man who probably believed in elves and talking snowmen. “Come on. I’ll bet your reindeer could use a visit from you about now.”

  Caleb followed her out to the clinic, eating three stacked cookies at a time. Which made her wonder if this was his first time having cookies for dinner, or if that was another thing that happened regularly in his life that hadn’t happened in hers.

  The problem she had being around him wasn’t that he wasn’t great. He was. He listened without judgment, was easy on the eyes, and made her crave contact like some sort of addict who couldn’t get close enough to him. No, the problem wasn’t Caleb.