Mistletoe and Mr. Right

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  “Or premeditation.” Rick jerked his chin toward the pile of nearly unrecognizable crushed plastic, a red nose still blinking its final death blinks. “Rudolph never stood a chance, did he?”

  The destruction was disturbingly familiar. One Christmas display trampled, the sleigh battered and overturned, Santa’s bag of toys launched to the rooftop of the singlewide trailer they stood in front of.

  Babbling Brook was a nice name for an empty lot of land down the road from Rick’s place. Highly sought-after rental trailers sat at regular intervals, backed up to the small creek giving the RV park its name. Generally, the trailers housed seasonal workers, but there were a handful of familiar faces who made Babbling Brook their permanent home.

  Babbling Brook was just one of the places that now had a new owner.

  Rick passed by every day, twice a day, so he was used to the cars regularly parked in front of the trailers. The squad car was an irregular visitor, so Rick had pulled over to see if Jonah needed any help. Sadly, they’d all been too late to help the poor decorations in the RV park’s front yards. The Santa Moose had struck again.

  “You think we should call Lana?” Rick asked Jonah, glancing up at the curious faces peering at them through RV windows. The police officer had already taken everyone’s statements, then asked for them to stay in their homes as he surveyed the moose’s crime scene.

  “You think she knows this place is hers?” Jonah asked, scratching beneath his chin. “Not sure she’ll care about a few acts of vandalism.”

  Vandalism. Such a mild term for the destruction of an entire community’s Christmas displays. Lights ripped off porches. Elves trampled in the middle of present building. One poor inflatable snowman dragged nearly a hundred feet and torn to pieces.

  But the real damage…

  “Seems the reindeer were the moose’s primary targets.” Jonah pulled a pad of paper from his inside jacket pocket, then made a few notes. “Can you think of any reason why?”

  If someone hadn’t known any better, they would think Jonah took these kinds of reports every day. As for Rick, getting called to help out with an animal relocation was one thing. But identifying the inner psyche of a psychotic moose was beyond his scope of expertise.

  “This is out of my wheelhouse. I’m not an animal behavioral expert, Jonah. You’d be better to call Fish and Game on that one.”

  “No, but you and yours have been around these parts for a long time. Your daddy was so smart about these animals, he was half moose himself.”

  “With the bullheadedness to prove it,” Rick joked. “Drove my momma nuts. Guess that was something we had in common.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “Florida is working out better for Dad than the cold up here.”

  “Yeah, that sounds better and better these days.”

  Rick had been an unplanned child, and his parents had been well past the point of thinking they’d have kids when he’d come along. With a father in his late seventies and a mother not far behind, the move to a warmer state had been the right call. Still, Rick wished he had a chance to visit them more or at least help them out a little beyond sending what spare money he could.

  “All right, I’ll make up a report and add it to the file.” Jonah scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think there’s any chance the moose will come back to this location? Or will it move on to another target?”

  “I’ve never heard of him hitting the same place twice. This guy’s MO is pretty clear. He gets in, does his thing, and gets out without anyone the wiser. You may want to tell everyone to put a curfew on their reindeer until the season is over.”

  Jonah raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to cancel Christmas?”

  “I’m saying that one of these days, some kid is going to be playing in the yard when this animal comes in looking to do some damage. Better to be safe than sorry.” Rick picked up a plastic cartoon duck dressed as Tiny Tim, which somehow managed to escape the slaughter by hiding beneath Ebenezer Scrooge. “All joking aside, this has been going on too long. We need to catch the Santa Moose and be done with it.”

  A spark of humor reached Jonah’s eyes. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to wait on Ms. Montgomery to catch it, won’t we?”

  Rick liked Jonah, but he didn’t love the way the cop’s lazy drawl turned toward amusement.

  “You think she won’t?”

  “I think there’s a whole lot of us that have tried and failed. If Easton can’t track him, what’s she going to be able to do?”

  “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t count her out just yet.”

  Jonah chuckled, but Rick deliberately ignored him. He set Tiny Tim back on his feet before brushing the snow off his hands.

  “I’ll call you if I think of something.”

  * * *

  Cartoon moose always looked shiftier in Santa hats.

  “Okay. Let’s talk strategy,” Zoey said as she finished drawing arrows pointing at the moose.

  Zoey was a tiny thing, and in front of the conference room’s oversize dry erase board, she looked even smaller. But pound for pound, Lana’s best friend had more guts packed in her than any of them.

  “I feel like I’ve been talking strategy all year.” Lana leaned back against the conference table behind her as she checked her phone. “I’m sorry my morning ran long. I had to get spiffed up in the salon. I’ve ordered us breakfast.”

  Zoey wrinkled her nose. “Is it—?”

  “It’s all Zoey friendly, I promise. No trout on toast.”

  Which was silly because the resort was world-renowned for their trout on toast. The things one did for their friends.

  Lana glanced at her watch. “Okay, we have thirty-five minutes before your shift starts, and I need to go hunt down Jackson Shaw in town, then pick up the cookie decorations for my Christmas party.”

  “Isn’t the resort taking care of that?”

  “I thought it would be nice to buy the supplies locally.” Lana sat in her chair, crossing her legs at the ankles, knees tilted off to the side. Like a Montgomery.

  One day, she would sprawl. She’d walk into her family’s sitting room in a pair of crushed velvet track pants, and she would sprawl like no one had ever sprawled before. Perhaps she’d do it on New Year’s, just to see their reactions. For now, she sat at her conference table, eyeing the cartoon moose on the board.

  “Are we taking this seriously?” Lana asked. “Because between us, I have a feeling we’re being set up as the butt of the joke. If there’s no Santa Moose, we’re just two people running around in the woods.”

  “I don’t think so,” Zoey said. “I think this moose is a real thing. Graham was in a rush to get home after the meeting last night, and he was up really late Santa Moose–proofing the property. He dragged all his carvings inside the workshop and locked it up tight. He won’t let Jake out of the house without us there.”

  Lana pursed her lips. “The local newspaper this morning said to be careful around decorations. I thought the reporter was joking.”

  “Oh no. Apparently anything that blinks red and green and white sets the moose off.” Zoey set a hip to the conference table, her expression stubborn. “Lana, you’re my friend. Everyone else here, they’re nice, but they’re still Graham’s friends. You’re mine. And my friend has decided to catch this moose, which means I’m going to help her succeed. Even if we only end up as a couple weirdos running around the woods.”

  Lana stood and went to Zoey, hugging her tightly. Montgomerys rarely hugged outside the family, but Lana had been breaking that rule most of her life.

  “Thank you.”

  After hugging her in return, Zoey pulled over the mobile dry erase board, angling it toward their seats.

  “Okay.” Lana put her hands on her hips. “We’re going to need some MCE.”

  “MCE?”

 
“Moose chasing equipment.” Lana wrote the letters on the board and underlined them. “And the most important MCE is a good plan of attack.”

  As Lana and Zoey sketched out their plan, Lana considered how much was riding on this. The town depended on them, and she was going to prove herself worthy to be there…even if she had to break a couple of local holiday decoration ordinances to accomplish their goal.

  If one was going to catch a Santa Moose, one must do it right.

  * * *

  The holidays were a good time to be in Moose Springs, even if it was impossible to find parking. Maybe a truck would have been better in the snow, but Rick could appreciate being able to squeeze his car in the tiny spaces left on the side of the street where rental vehicles were parked too close to one another

  One couldn’t live in this town without being an excellent parallel parker.

  Since money was tight, Rick didn’t order one of the famous cinnamon rolls at Frankie’s, but he did get a cup of tea, nodding in greeting to a sleepy-looking Graham as he came inside. Standing outside on the staircase leading down to the parking lot, Rick let the mingling scents of bread and crisp, fresh winter air play about his nostrils.

  High up on the mountain, he could see the ever-present resort looming above their heads, a relentless reminder that this peace and quiet would only last for so long. And off to the left, the beginning outline of what would be Lana’s condominiums was starting to take—

  Wait. Was that a penis?

  “Morning, Rick.” A far more awake Graham returned, a box of cinnamon rolls tucked under his arm and two coffees juggled in his hands. He grinned up at the mountainside. “Enjoying the view?”

  Rick raised an eyebrow. “You know anything about that?”

  “Must have taken some effort.” He chuckled, continuing on down the stairs.

  Rick sipped his tea, enjoying the heated drink on his throat. With one last look at the mountainside, Rick resisted the urge to go back for something at Frankie’s and headed down the staircase instead. He knew he wouldn’t remember Diego’s milk if he waited until tonight to pick it up, so he angled across the street to the town’s tiny grocery store.

  Crossing the street downtown was dangerous business, especially with tourists unused to the snowy conditions. No amount of salt on the roads or snowplows clearing the streets could keep them from skating around and nearly running over the locals. At least it was early enough that Rick only had to dodge one shiny new rental car as it whipped out of the grocery store parking lot far too quickly.

  A familiar figure backed out of the door, her arms filled with three very full reusable grocery bags, trying to pull her keys out of her purse as she hustled across the parking lot. Rick saw it coming, being no stranger to black ice around there. Despite her boots, Lana took a wrong step, and her feet slipped right out from beneath her.

  Just because he saw it coming didn’t meant Rick was fast enough to stop Lana from skating across the asphalt, yelping as her legs went one way and her grocery bags the other. How she managed to save them from spilling was a feat of near superpower-type coordination, although she did land on her knee hard enough that Rick winced.

  Jogging over to her side—ignoring the still hot tea splashing onto his hands as he did so—Rick nearly ate it himself in his rush.

  “That looked like it hurt,” he told her gruffly, taking two of her bags with one arm and wrapping his other around her waist. “Are you okay?”

  “Nothing damaged but my pride. That could have been a lot worse.”

  “I can’t believe you kept ahold of everything without twisting your back out.”

  “Yoga is good for flexibility. I can become a pretzel if need be.”

  Which was something Rick shouldn’t have allowed himself to think about. Feeling his face heat despite the cold, Rick cleared his throat. “Well, let’s get you up off the ice.”

  In theory, Rick was more than strong enough to help a woman and her groceries off the ground. But when he planted his boot and pushed himself up, Rick only reached about a foot off the ground when he realized that foot wasn’t quite as sturdily planted as he’d thought.

  For the second time that day, Lana Montgomery ate it in a parking lot, and Rick was right there along with her. He cracked his head on the asphalt hard enough to see stars, and he was fairly certain his elbow was wedged in his landlady’s cleavage.

  Son of a bitch.

  “That didn’t go the way I expected,” he told the sky above him, feeling something round and plastic rolling off his abdomen.

  Looking down, he saw one of many containers of sprinkles making a getaway. Several more were scattered from the overturned grocery bags, along with…yep. Tampons and gummy bears.

  A feminine giggle was about as shaming as being covered in sprinkles. Mentally cursing his own lack of coordination, Rick sat up, rubbing a rough hand over the back of his head to check for blood.

  Coming up to her knees, Lana had the grace not to tease him about the gummy bears pooled on his lap. “Are you all right?”

  “My pride may have taken a hit there, but the rest of me is fine.”

  “It was my own fault,” Lana said. “I was distracted by the artwork on the mountain, and I stepped on the wrong spot.”

  “I’m sorry some idiot drew a penis on the mountain,” he told her. “If you want, I can help you get rid of it.”

  “Thank you, Rick. You’re a dear, but I’ll manage. This isn’t the first unexpected and unwelcome penis to point my way. I plowed over the rest, and I’ll scrape this one from existence too.”

  Wincing at the imagery, he said ruefully, “I keep finding myself in the oddest conversations with you.”

  “It’s the magic of being around me. Life is never boring.”

  She looked great as always in a snug winter dress only she could pull off, paired with a fitted jacket and sleek calf-high boots.

  “Are you going on a date?” At nine in the morning? He couldn’t imagine why else she would be dressed up so much.

  “Goodness, no. Since I’ve become the scourge of the town, my romantic prospects have taken a turn for the worse. I have an important video conference later, and I wasn’t sure I’d have time to change.”

  “Oh.” Clearly, Rick was not at his smoothest this morning, but Lana didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m also supposed to have a meeting with Jackson Shaw,” she continued. “We’re discussing the groundbreaking. Among other things. I need to get him pinned down somewhere. That man is slippery as an eel when he’s avoiding work.”

  “Yeah, he’s been like that since we were kids.” As he helped her repack her bags, Rick noticed all the shakers of brightly colored sugar sprinkles that hadn’t spilled. “You must like decorating cookies.”

  “I adore it,” she said warmly. “These are for the Christmas party. I prefer to buy local. Don’t worry. I put the order in ahead of time, so the store wasn’t bought out.”

  As he followed her to her car with the bags, Rick tried to keep his focus on her shoulders and not the subtle sway of her hips. Lusting after one’s landlady was not a good idea. Especially when she was cutting him a break. Still, she had curves for miles and shiny hair.

  So shiny…it was probably soft too.

  “Hey, Rick?”

  Pulled out of his thoughts, Rick’s knee-jerk guilt made him blurt out, “I wasn’t.”

  “You weren’t what?”

  “Umm…never mind.” Rick bent over and set the bags in the already full back seat of her car, carefully rearranging them so a quick tap of the brakes wouldn’t result in them toppling over. “Well, there you go.”

  Rick watched in detached horror as he patted the top of the bag. Yes. Because sounding like a fool in front of the gorgeous woman wasn’t enough, he had to keep looking like one too.

  Somehow, Lana seemed to have missed it
. She set a hip to the side of her car and smiled up at him.

  “I had fun the other night,” she said. “Anytime you want a rematch, let me know.”

  Was she flirting with him? Because embarrassment aside, Rick was tempted to brush the dust off his rusty skills and give it a try.

  “Are we betting again?” he asked.

  “Depends if there’s something good on the table.”

  Yep. That was definitely flirting. She waited for him to reply, and Rick opened his mouth. Nothing. He had nothing. Was it possible to be any worse at this?

  “I should probably go track down Jax,” Lana mentioned when Rick’s mouth refused to help him one bit.

  “Good luck with your meeting.” Rick jutted his head toward the brand new pickup barely visible as it headed down the mountainside, parallel to the snow art. “That’ll be Jax. If he’s being too difficult, make him meet you at Dirty Joe’s one morning. Jax usually doesn’t go there unless someone forces him.”

  Dirty Joe’s was the most popular hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in town, guaranteed to be claustrophobically busy at all times. If the drinks weren’t so good, no one would even try to step inside.

  “You’re an amazingly helpful person, Rick,” Lana told him.

  “Just trying to be a good friend.”

  Wait. No. Noooooo. He’d used the f-word. The friend word. Why? Not that he had a chance with this woman, but why would he do that?

  They stood there, the distance between them only a couple of feet apart but far too much. Rick wasn’t sure when thinking Lana was beautiful had shifted into trying and failing not to stand too close to her. The fact that she was stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, standing too close to him too, made it all the more confusing.

  He almost did it. He almost opened his mouth and told her she was amazing.

  Instead, Rick ducked his head, and he walked away.

  * * *

  Her cousin Silas Thomas was a man sigher.

  Now, in her life, Lana had met many a man sigher. The one man in a room full of others hell-bent on making his feelings perfectly clear with a loud, heavy sigh every time he shifted position. A dramatic hand over the back of his neck. Feet kicked out in front of him because the only way for a man sigher to function through his distress at his current situation was to spread and spread some more.