by Vivian Arend
Ashton just chuckled.
Great. Not only was he going to have to manoeuvre Yvette into going along with his plans, he’d have to put up with well-meaning, interfering, brothers-in-arms as well.
So be it. “You’re all a bunch of jerks.”
“Definitely.” Mack waggled his brows. “I hope you realize that no matter how hard you try, there’s one thing you and Yvette will not succeed in doing.”
Alex paused in the middle of rising from his chair. “What’s that?”
Mack folded his arms over his chest and leaned back, amusement all over his face. “The now official Annual Firefighters’ Ugly Sweater Contest. Brooke and I have got it all sewn up. Just you wait and see.”
Laughter rang. Alex glanced around at the group of men before him. Combined with all the plans he’d made for this month with Yvette, something warm and happy eased through his entire system.
Good people. Good hopes for the future. He’d said it—nothing was guaranteed, but he did feel optimistic and determined.
He was going to make this the most memorable holiday season ever for one particular, beautiful veterinarian.
Yvette had always loved Christmas morning. She’d been one of those kids who could barely be convinced to go to sleep and was always downstairs staring at the tree far too early for anyone else in her family.
She adored that sense of anticipation and the butterflies it caused in her belly. It made her feel alive. Feel as if she was trembling on the verge of fantastic new discoveries.
The key she’d found in the day-one drawer had that same Christmas morning feeling to it. Lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, Yvette timed her morning in order to prolong the giddy sensation as long as possible.
Alex had been right. Anticipation was a powerful drug.
She pulled the key ring out from under her pillow—yes, she’d been that obsessed. Leaving it somewhere by itself had seemed wrong.
Once again, the key itself held no secrets, but now that she’d had time to examine the star more closely, it was even shinier than first expected. When she clicked a small button on the back, the two halves slid apart far enough, she could clip the star onto something pointed, like the end of a pencil.
She needed to put these pretty trinkets somewhere she could appreciate them.
That idea was enough to get her legs moving, tossing back the sheets and sliding into the cool of the cabin. She took the time to get the fire going and put on the kettle before turning and assessing her options.
The one good point about how stuffed her living space was that she really could do anything she wanted. Unlike her mother and sister, whose pristine homes felt as if they’d taken the concept of minimalism to the point of monastery-like scarcity.
Might make them happy, but it was the furthest thing from comfortable and visually pleasing that Yvette could think of. She wasn’t messy—which was usually the comment they made about her decorating style that got her back up the most. Having lots of things didn’t mean there was dirt involved.
She had treasures.
“Okay. Refocus.” Yvette deliberately covered her face with her hands and blew out a long breath.
This moment was to celebrate something fun and exciting, not to deal with family demons. Yvette stared at the star cupped in her hands and thought back to the previous night. To Alex and how it felt spending time with him.
There really was nothing wrong with what they were doing. Maybe nothing would come of this escapade, but she wasn’t so overburdened with friends that she couldn’t enjoy having one more.
Inspiration struck. Yvette reached under her table and pulled out a pad of construction paper. A few minutes with the scissors and a box of craft tacks, and she’d created a new masterpiece.
When she was done, the rustic country scene she’d picked up at a yard sale that summer had been repurposed. The canvas was covered with blue paper at the top, white at the bottom, with a very amateur Christmas tree nearly filling the rest of the frame.
Thumbtacks were pushed into the canvas, and the solid wooden backing in a random pattern would allow the pretty trinkets she found to be easily displayed.
Hanging up the first key chain—the Christmas tree—got bubbles percolating in her belly.
She deliberately put the star key chain on the table and made herself breakfast, taking care to watch her time. Fifteen minutes before she had to be ready for work, she found the drawer marked with a star and unlocked it.
Another key chain plus a small, cloth bag rested in the bottom of the small drawer. Yvette tipped the contents into her palm.
“Oh, Alex.”
A silver charm bracelet lay in her hand, a tiny tree and a star already attached. A shiver stole over her skin.
She had wanted a charm bracelet forever.
Yvette hung both the star key chain and the candy-cane-shaped one for day three on her newly created Christmas tree wall hanging. She lined up the star so that it became a tree topper.
The charm bracelet she put carefully on the dresser in her bedroom.
Time sped past, with no opportunity to sit and pet the bracelet like she wanted to. Every instinct told her she should tell Alex it was too much.
She loved it, though. The bracelet was perfect. It was too much, and…
It was perfect.
She was pulling on her coat when her phone rang. Yvette answered without looking, gaze still locked on the pretty display in front of her and her thoughts still on Alex and this wild adventure he’d started them on. “Yes? What’s up?”
On the other end of the line, an exasperated sigh rang out. “How do you expect people to take you seriously when you do such things?”
The happy bubbles in her system vanished. They didn’t burst, they didn’t fizzle out. They simply were wiped away by the sound of her mother’s voice.
“Oh. Hi, Mom.”
“Well, I suppose you don’t usually answer the phone at that animal place of yours. But we taught you better than that. The first moment of a phone call sets the tone for what comes later, and in spite of your rustic career choices, you still need to be a professional if you ever want to succeed. I’m sure if you try, you can learn.”
Maybe a hint of bubbles remained in Yvette’s system, because the next thing out of her mouth was totally unexpected. “Did you have a reason to call, other than to lecture me?”
An instant snort of disapproval. “Yvette Elouise Wright. That was rude.”
So was getting a lecture after simply answering the phone. Still, Yvette leveled out her tone. “I need to head to the clinic. Was there something you needed?” Sometimes redirecting her mother worked.
Sometimes.
“Your sister won another award. Top realtor of the month for November. Isn’t that amazing? Carrie is far too modest to have told you, but we’re all going out to dinner on Saturday to celebrate. You should join us. It would be wonderful to have the entire family together. You just don’t come join us nearly often enough.”
A twelve-hour drive, two directions, on winter roads, to have dinner with her family? “I can’t get the time off right now, Mom.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, her mother continued, “Come Friday. You can see little Cassandra star in her school Christmas pageant. She is doing amazing, as usual. I’m so proud of those grandbabies of mine. I have to treasure every moment because they’re growing up so fast, and I’ll never have ones this little again to spoil.”
Because at twenty-nine, Yvette could no longer have children? Blah. She debated accidentally hanging up but couldn’t bring herself to make the final chop. “Like I said, I can’t take time off right now. How are you and Dad?”
“Your father—he’s amazing as usual, juggling all the volunteer tasks that he does. Simply unstoppable. He’s probably involved with more things than you are, but then he’s never been lazy. They asked him to oversee another event. Plus, he and I are co-chairs for the community fall fair.”
Yvette ignored the passi
ve aggressive criticisms and glanced at her watch, gauging how long she had before she could cut things short. “Sounds exciting.”
“We’ve never done it before, but I told your father I was sure you’d be willing to help. You should know something about small towns these days. We would want that quaint, old-fashioned feeling. Right up your alley.”
Gee, Mom, way to compliment and insult a girl all at one time. Which seemed to be a family specialty. Yvette nabbed the cinnamon bun she’d intended to save for later.
After most familial conversations, she needed a big dose of sugar and carbs to level out.
“We’ll see.” It was better to not make any promises. “Thanks for calling, but I really need to go. Bye.”
“Carrie was also—”
Guilt shot through Yvette as the line disconnected in the middle of her mother’s sentence. But the truth was, if Yvette hadn’t cut the call off, they would’ve still been on the phone.
Sighing, she headed to the main office. Family was often complicated. Hers was awkward, uncomfortable, and horrifying all at the same time.
She slipped into the office, delighted to discover the head veterinarian, Josiah, was there, loading up his medical kit. It was the first time she’d seen him since she’d found out the news from Lisa. “I hear you’ve decided to keep filling the rooms in that enormous house of yours. Congratulations.”
His ready grin was there, but his cheeks flushed. “It’s very early days, so we’re not saying anything yet.”
“Lisa told me. Plus, if you really want to keep this on the down low for a while, you need to make sure nobody comes around Ollie,” Yvette warned.
“Good point.” Josiah nodded, his proud and enthusiastic grin still in place. “Oh, by the way. One change to your schedule this afternoon. Before you head over to the colony, I need you to stop in at Reiner’s. He said he’s got a couple of animals that need checking, and it would be a good idea to go before the weather changes. His road is a mess after a storm, and we’ve got snow in the forecast.”
Yvette groaned. She really liked that her boss didn’t try and protect her and trusted her enough to deal with even the old-timers.
But Reiner?
Normally she’d have no problem, but after a dose of her mother, she wasn’t sure she had the patience to deal with a cranky old man.
“Could you take that trip?” She regretted the words the instant they were out of her mouth.
“Nothing doing. I told Finn I’d be out at Red Boot ranch two days ago.” Josiah slung the bags over his shoulder even as his feet headed toward the door. He paused, turning back and giving her an understanding nod. “You’ve got this. Really. Also, Reiner likes you.”
“Right. He hates my guts,” Yvette said with a laugh.
“Now you’re just being dramatic.”
Yvette made her best attempt at raising a single brow, but she was pretty sure her expression looked tortured instead. “I’m not saying no, but I am saying you’re delusional. Creighton Reiner would like very much if not just the female population but most of the human population on earth vanished.”
Josiah was marching out the door. “Good thing he’s not in charge, then. We’ll see you later. Stay safe.”
“You too.”
Her words echoed off the door as it closed behind her boss. She took a deep breath and allowed herself the luxury of letting it out with an audible sigh. But even as she got that admittedly dramatic bit of complaining out of the way, she packed together everything she might need for a visit to the old-timer.
Creighton was one of the clients no one really liked to deal with, which had turned him into a strange sort of challenge for Yvette. Completing a visit without losing her temper had become a personal mission. It was kind of fun to see Creighton grow grumpier and grumpier as he failed to get a rise out of her.
He was rude to Josiah, growly and belligerent to every one of their veterinary suggestions, and downright nasty to people in town when he came in on one of his infrequent shopping trips.
Every time Yvette had been called out to his place, he’d loomed over her, watching and assessing with an expression that suggested she’d recently rolled in a freshly manured field.
Good thing he liked her. She hated to think how he’d behave if he truly had it in for her.
She snickered as she headed for her truck.
4
The trip up the steep gravel road to the old man’s property took long enough for Yvette to sing along with a half dozen renditions of Christmas carols done up country- and western-style. Singing with Dolly Parton about a “Hard Candy Christmas” kept her from daydreaming about Alex and the mixed-up, hopeful emotions he’d triggered with this thing they were doing.
Arriving at the small farm, Yvette forced herself to focus on the here and now. The place was like any of a dozen in the community. Creighton Reiner, a gentleman now in his early eighties, had been a bachelor his entire life. Whether that was part of the reason why he was cranky or if he was single because he was cranky, Yvette didn’t want to guess.
But he’d definitely done the place up in a way that made him happy. No trace of a woman’s touch anywhere.
According to Josiah, Creighton had tried his hand at raising just about everything. Over the years, he’d had cows, goats, sheep, and llamas. The first year Yvette had arrived, he’d attempted to raise ducks. It wasn’t a bad idea except that he was trying to do it with birds he caught in the wild.
She parked beside his beat-up old Ford, grabbing her kit with the intention of heading into the yard to track him down.
Something caught her eye.
She twisted back to examine Creighton’s truck a little closer. It wasn’t her imagination. The truck looked a little worse for wear. The front bumper seemed to have come into contact with something large and solid. Something immovable enough to have caused a vertical crack on the driver side. Leaning in, Yvette cursed to discover the entire bumper was being held in place with chicken wire.
“Dammit, Creighton.” she muttered.
Whether it was a lack of money or because he didn’t give a hoot, the wonky bumper wasn’t something she could let slide.
She wondered if she could get her friend Brooke to visit the farm on the sly. Hopefully the woman could use her mechanic and body repair skills to deal with the problem before the man got a fine for driving a noncompliant vehicle on the highway.
Not that he left the farm very often, but if he did and then killed himself or someone else, Yvette would feel terrible.
The old-timer wasn’t visible right off the bat, but the farm dogs were out in full force, a pair of them running eagerly to greet her from the far side of the barn. A couple more were visible in the distance, too old or tired to join the race but still with eager faces turned toward her.
She stopped to pet the two younger collies bouncing at her heels. “Hey, guys. How’s it going? Yes, you are all good boys.” Yvette slipped each of them a treat before gesturing forward with a hand. “Where’s the boss? Where’s Creighton?”
As if they understood, they turned and headed across the yard, barking enthusiastically. She followed them toward the small barn. Or oversized shed—she could never decide which it was.
Creighton met her at the door only to offer a tight scowl. “This way. Hurry up.”
Yvette moved to follow, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Still, annoyance pushed her into murmuring, in a gravelly, low tone, far too softly for him to hear, “Nice to see you, Yvette. Thanks so much for coming up my hellish driveway. Always appreciate skilled people taking time out of their day to help me.”
She snickered, amused enough that by the time she joined him to peer over the railing into a small pen, her good mood was restored and her smile real. “Who do we need to check today?”
Three pigs, two goats, and a very skinny dog later, her smile had probably faded. Only it wasn’t the animals causing her concern, it was Creighton as he hobbled painfully, leading her from place to pl
ace, his semi-ancient dog, Tex, moving at his side as if wanting to help.
Yvette snuck glances as best she could, but the old-timer seemed to be trying to stay out of her way enough that she couldn’t see much more than a very worn pair of boots, one of which was wrapped with duct tape around the arch.
She focused on the animals until she was done with the final patient.
“There’s not much else we can do for Hunter,” Yvette told Creighton as she brushed a hand over the oldest retriever’s head.
He had a well-worn but tidy dog bed tucked to one side of the front porch, and he moved slowly to curl back up in it after she’d examined him, tail thumping lazily as they continued to look in his direction.
Tex came and touched noses with the other dog before returning to Creighton’s side.
“There’s nothing specifically wrong,” Yvette continued. “He is a little underweight. You might want to try and feed him inside the house. Or somewhere separate from the rest of the dogs to make sure he’s getting his fair share.”
The old man harumphed but didn’t say anything.
Before he could move off the front porch, Yvette spoke again. Quickly, before the moment passed. “Want me to look at your foot?”
Creighton glared at her. “I’m not a dog.”
She glared right back. “You’re not a cow or horse, either, but I should probably still take a look at your foot and let you know if you need to see a physician.” Blood stained his boot above the duct tape, which said it had bled a lot more than a simple cut.
For one moment it seemed he would simply dismiss her, but the next, he gestured with his head into the cabin.
It was the first time she’d ever been in the place. After seeing the sparse, no-nonsense way he dealt with things in the barn and outbuildings, the interior was not what she’d expected. She barely kept her jaw off the floor as she followed him into the tidy and cozy space. Timber-built furniture was everywhere, the light pine wood contrasting beautifully with thick, dark-blue cushions. The main decorations were beautiful bits of stumps and interestingly shaped rocks. Like a museum of natural wonders.
