by Terry Spear
She began making herself a thermos of lavender tea. “You know you could do this at the shop and at least be in the shop panicking,” she told herself. Being a creature of habit, she’d already started heating the water, and she was still brushing out her unruly red hair.
Her store was full to bursting with boxes in the spare bedrooms of the Victorian house-turned-antique-shop. She wished she had said no to taking anything at Gulliver’s estate, but she just couldn’t have said no to Mr. Lee. He’d been too nice, though a little mysterious.
Finding treasure had been in Brooke’s family’s blood; her mother, father, great-aunt, and great-uncle were all treasure hunters. Which meant she was used to her family’s obsession with finding valuable items discarded by those who couldn’t discern the value of the collections. She was more interested in emptying the boxes stored in the rooms, properly sorting through the stuff, and cataloging it for sale. She envisioned emptying all the rooms and getting the place ready to sell—in three years.
Christmas was her favorite holiday, so she always served hot chocolate in addition to cranberry, cinnamon, and plain scones in the morning in the shop and wassail, Christmas tree–decorated chocolates, and caramel apple-cider cookies in the afternoon.
With her hot tea in a thermos in hand, Brooke set the house’s security alarm, then headed for the back door. The courtyard garden connecting the two buildings was now decorated in Christmas ornaments for sale, the beautiful bronze wolf statues, and a fir tree covered in twinkling colored lights.
“Shoot.” She needed to get the boxes out for recycling. And put on gloves and a hat. It was so much colder here at Christmastime than it was in Phoenix. Brrr.
She grabbed a red-plaid scarf and wrapped it around her neck, pulled on a soft, red knit hat, and slipped on some black kid-leather gloves, then opened the back door and stopped dead in her tracks. A young reindeer was standing under the eaves on her porch, head twisting around from where he’d been eating berries off Brooke’s holly hedge, wide, warm-brown eyes staring back at Brooke. A thin leather strap of jingle bells jingled when the reindeer turned and walked over to join her.
“Ohmigod, where did you come from?” Brooke guessed the reindeer was about eight months old since he didn’t have antlers yet, and reindeer calves were usually born in May or June. She’d learned all about them at the Grand Canyon Deer Farm in Williams, Arizona.
She saw that one of the gates to the four-foot-tall, wrought-iron decorative fence was standing open although she was sure she’d locked it last night. The problem was that the latch needed to be replaced, like a lot of things in the old Victorian houses. It had a habit of not staying shut. Even when she locked the gate, if the latch hadn’t caught hold, a little wind could push it open.
Not wanting to scare the calf off but wanting to secure him so she could call someone to come get him, Brooke set her thermos of tea on the wrought-iron café table next to her and calmly talked to the young calf. “Hey, little guy. I’m going to take you into the shop, okay?” Not that Brooke had ever planned to have an animal in her shop, which made her think of a bull in a china shop if the poor little reindeer got scared. But Brooke had to open her shop, and her courtyard wasn’t secure enough, even if she could reach the gate and close it before the reindeer ran off. What if the calf could jump over the short fence? White-tailed deer could bound over an eight-foot fence. Maybe a reindeer calf couldn’t leap that high though.
Still, Brooke didn’t want to chance losing him. She had to learn where the calf belonged and return him to his owner.
She continued to talk softly and reassuringly to the calf. The reindeer didn’t bolt, thankfully. In fact, he seemed interested in meeting Brooke, who held out her hand, wishing she had some sort of treat. The reindeer sniffed her hand and seemed gentle and unafraid. She suspected he might be from a reindeer ranch and used to people petting him.
Taking hold of the reindeer’s jingle-bell collar, Brooke walked him toward the shop. Once she and the reindeer were inside, she rushed to turn off her security alarm and turn on all the Christmas lights and the Christmas music, starting with the “Carol of the Bells,” soothing her frazzled nerves. Already a few people were peering in her windows and beveled-glass door, probably wondering if she was ever going to open the shop. She knew what it was like to be standing outside in the cold, waiting for a shop to open on time.
As soon as Brooke opened the front door, the sleigh bells over the top jingled their merry tune, and she smiled brightly at her customers. “Welcome, come in.”
Seven people had been waiting, more than usual, but it was her open house. Brooke supposed she should be grateful there weren’t more customers so she could get things set up before a bigger crowd arrived.
“So sorry for the delay in opening.” At least Brooke had a good excuse for opening fifteen minutes late. She still needed to warm up the scones and make the hot cocoa. She realized her thermos of tea was still sitting on the table on the porch.
She smiled and presented the reindeer. “I had an unexpected guest this morning.”
“Oh my,” the three ladies at the front of the gathered shoppers said when they saw the reindeer calf.
If anyone had been annoyed with Brooke for letting them into the shop late, that melted away the irritation.
“Oh, isn’t he adorable,” one of the women said, pulling out her phone and immediately taking pictures.
“Come in. Shop.” The women were petting the reindeer when Brooke said, “I’ll be right back with the food. In the meantime, if you don’t mind helping, make sure he doesn’t get outside.”
“We’ll watch him,” one of the women said, her voice reassuring and cheerful.
Everyone was taking pictures of the calf. With his jingle-bell collar and the way he was standing next to a Christmas tree decorated in antique and antique-replica Christmas decorations and twinkling lights, the reindeer made for perfect Christmas-card pictures. With the Christmas music playing overhead, the scene was perfect for videos too.
Brooke hoped the reindeer didn’t go to the bathroom in the shop. She would have to take him out on breaks until someone came to get him. Was he thirsty? Maybe.
She fetched an antique-replica washbowl and filled it with water. Then she checked on her phone to see what reindeer could eat. “Carrots!” She had some of those in the shop’s kitchen. Probably a couple would be enough until someone claimed the calf. Brooke set the water next to the tree so the reindeer could drink when he was thirsty.
The calf lapped it up. Poor little thing. He was really thirsty.
Brooke gave the carrots to two of her first customers who were taking pictures of the reindeer. “If you’d like to feed him, they love carrots.”
“Oh, sure, thanks,” one of the women said, and in the spirit of Christmas, they broke the carrots into smaller pieces to offer to other customers to feed the reindeer.
The Christmas cinnamon potpourri scented the air, giving the whole shop a delightful Christmas fragrance. The hot cocoa and cinnamon, cranberry, and blueberry scones added to the festive scents. Brooke set the tray of food and drinks on the serving table in the dining room and was astonished to see the seven people now numbered about twenty, all wanting to see the reindeer calf. Before she had more of a mob scene, she hurried to call the police about him.
“Hi, I’m Brooke Cerise, and I found a reindeer calf in my courtyard this morning. I have him in my shop, Cerise’s Antiques and Gifts. Has anyone reported a reindeer calf missing?”
“This is a joke, right? Call Santa. I’m sure he’ll tell you all his reindeer are accounted for.” The police officer hung up on her.
Brooke wanted to growl! Though she suspected it did sound funny, and the officer might be used to getting crank calls about Santa and his reindeer during the holidays. Still, she was not amused!
* * *
Josh Wilding had taken a long wolf run
with his brother at the ranch that morning, the first time in a couple of weeks. They’d paused to play-fight before he had to get into work. For now, they were red wolves, snarling and growling, biting and barking and having a ball. They needed to experience the more primal side of their existence, their wolf roots, and enjoyed the bonding. Like playing games with each other, wolf style.
Then they’d howled, signaling an end to their wolf games, and raced each other back to the ranch house. Time to get on with work.
“Hey, I’ll see you tonight,” Josh said, dressing in his bedroom after taking a shower, his brother already in the kitchen getting coffee.
“Yeah, pizza tonight, right?”
“Sounds good to me.” Josh left his bedroom, grabbed a cup of coffee and a Danish roll, and headed out to work. He hadn’t even gotten there when his brother called him on the Bluetooth.
“Hey, I was just in the barn and saw that one of our reindeer calves has been stolen.”
Hearing one of the reindeer making a honking noise and their hooves moving around on the ground, Josh could tell Maverick was in the barn with them right now. “Which one?”
“Jingles. I made sure he hadn’t sneaked out of his stall, but he couldn’t have. The latch was closed.”
“None of the other ranch hands left it open by mistake?”
“No. And it was latched. I smelled an unknown male wolf. A human too maybe, but we have so many tours, it might have been someone here yesterday on a tour.”
“Hell.”
“I’ll keep you posted. I’m checking the security videos next, but I wanted to let you know right away that he’d been stolen.”
“Thanks.”
A few minutes later, Maverick called Josh again. “Jingles is at Cerise’s Antique and Gift Shop.”
“You’re kidding. The new owner has our calf?”
“Or someone else might have taken over the business. There are tons of messages going out on social media about a reindeer calf at the shop, and it is Jingles, from the pictures I saw of him.”
“I’m on my way! I’ll let you know what I discover.” Josh turned his car in the direction of the shop, ready to question the new owner about why he, or she, had their calf there. He was glad Jingles was unharmed and being taken care of, but he had to find out who had stolen him in the first place. He wanted answers now.
Chapter 2
Brooke called the first reindeer ranch she could find the number for while she hurried to leave the boxes outside for the recyclable trash. When she returned to the shop, someone from the ranch picked up the call.
“Hi, I’m Brooke Cerise, and a reindeer calf showed up—” She quit speaking when she saw a tall, dark, and handsome man walk into her shop wearing a suit, a parka, and a badge. He’d better not be the bozo at the police bureau who had hung up on her!
The man glanced at the reindeer calf and then moved through the customers taking pictures of him. He reached Brooke, his posture saying he was in charge and going to get to the bottom of this. “This deer belongs to Wilding Reindeer Ranch. Do you care to explain why he’s in your shop?” He raised a dark brow. He had an Indiana Jones-type build—muscled enough to swing across caverns and climb tall peaks, nice broad shoulders, physically fit, not like he sat around in an office eating too many doughnuts. “This is your shop, correct?”
“Yes. I’m Brooke Cerise, the owner.”
That was when she smelled the officer’s scent and realized he was a red wolf like her. Wild, wolfish, and an Ivory fragrance. A red-wolf pack was located outside Portland, but on her visits to see her great-aunt, she hadn’t had time to meet anyone. She hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for her to move into the area without contacting the pack leaders first. Did he belong to the pack? Not that she could ask him in front of her human customers.
She said to the man on the phone, “Uh, sorry, it looks like I just found where the calf belongs.”
“No problem. Thanks for calling and checking with us.”
“You’re welcome. Have a great day.” She ended the call. “I called it in, but the officer I spoke to thought it was a crank call. The reindeer just walked into my courtyard.”
“I’m Detective Wilding, an investigator with the Portland Police Bureau. I’ve called the ranch, and someone’s coming to pick him up.” He had a nice, manly voice, warm and sexy like one of her favorite narrators of the romance audiobooks that she enjoyed listening to. He took a deep breath of her scent too. She wondered if he’d known her great-aunt.
Brooke realized she was getting so much publicity that the police must have seen the news that the reindeer was at her open house and sent an investigator to investigate.
“I need to get your statement,” he said, all official-like.
As if she were at fault for the reindeer calf being here! Hopefully, the other local wolves were a lot more welcoming than he was. That was all she needed though. To be considered a rogue wolf who committed crimes!
“By the way, you don’t leave anything important in your trash, do you? Like credit-card or bank-account information without shredding it?”
“No, why?”
“Someone was looking at your boxes.”
“Maybe to use for packing boxes?”
“Maybe.”
More people crowded into her shop. Brooke sure hoped people were going to purchase something and not just come to see the reindeer. Though she had to admit the little fellow made for a great marketing tool with all the social network shares that were going on. It was putting her shop on the map. He was adorable, and he seemed to be enjoying all the company.
Several of the customers were still texting about the reindeer and posting about her shop, and a few people had migrated to the drinks and food and begun to enjoy them. Then a couple of customers brought items over to her checkout counter. Yes!
“Sorry, why don’t you do your police-officer duty and take care of the reindeer? I’ll give you a statement when things slow down, Officer,” she told Detective Wilding. She didn’t expect him to do anything with the reindeer, but she hoped he’d leave her alone while she was checking out her customers.
“Detective,” he corrected her. He situated himself right next to the checkout counter, waiting for her to finish ringing up her sales.
How annoying!
The ladies thanked her and smiled at the detective, who smiled back at them with a little lift to one corner of his mouth, giving him a charmingly handsome appearance. The ladies took their packages and left. Brooke glanced in the direction of the other people in her shop, wishing a whole bunch of customers would inundate her with merchandise to ring up so she could ignore the detective further, but nope. That meant she was at the detective’s mercy. Again. Darn it.
“Okay, give me your statement now.” He stood there tall and imposing, his dark hair windswept, his dark-brown eyes capturing her gaze, powerful, demanding. There was no smile for her.
“He was eating holly berries off my shrub. Someone had left the gate open.”
“Not you, of course.”
“Of course not. I always close it.” Brooke folded her arms across her chest. She knew that was a defensive posture when she had nothing to be defensive about. She had nothing to do with stealing the reindeer!
“But you didn’t lock it.”
“Usually, I do.” She let out her breath. “I must have forgotten.”
“But you didn’t forget to close the gate.”
He might be gorgeous to look at, but he was annoying her to pieces. She was a law-abiding citizen, and she wasn’t in the market for a reindeer calf. How could he make her feel like she was guilty of a crime just because she must not have locked her gate last night?
“The latch needs to be replaced.” She hated having to concede that to the detective.
“Faulty latch, hmm,” he said, writing it down.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’d think she’d committed the crime of the century!
Brooke got another two sales and thankfully could take a break from the inquisitor. Once her customers left with their packages, she figured she’d need to make more hot chocolate before manning the register again. She didn’t bother telling the detective what she was going to do. It was none of his business. He needed to figure out how the reindeer had left the ranch and ended up at her place—not hassle her.
But his focus remained on her as he followed her into the kitchen. “Why don’t you watch the customers and make sure no one takes off with anything of value? Since you’re a police detective,” she reminded him. She started making more hot chocolate. The fragrance of chocolate filled the kitchen. She added some peppermint to a mixture of coffee and hot chocolate in a mug for herself, and she was in heaven.
“I’m here about the stolen reindeer,” the detective said.
She raised a brow, taking a sip of her peppermint mocha She’d heard that peppermint could help lower blood pressure, and hers was on the rise because of his badgering. “I didn’t steal it. He was standing on my patio when I left the house.”
“You said he was in your courtyard.”
“My house is behind the shop.”
“Show me exactly where you found the calf.”
The guy was so exasperating. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your police time?” She pointed out the kitchen window. “There. See the holly bush by the back porch to my house? That’s where he was. Standing there. Eating my holly berries.”
“Hell, those wolf statues have to be worth a small fortune at the very least. You need to lock your gate.”
Brooke wanted to growl at him, and she was sure she gave him her most growly look. Mostly because she knew he was right.
Someone rang the bell on her checkout counter.
“Coming!” she called out.
