Mistletoe and Mr. Right

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  With a sigh, she set her tea down on the table, keeping the mug between her hands to warm her fingers and hide the light tremor. “Yes, well, that particular situation is still under consideration.”

  Lana had spent the early morning hours scouting the most popular moose sighting locations in Moose Springs, hoping to catch a glimpse of what might be her quarry. And while she’d had the pleasure of seeing lots of the massive, majestic creatures, none were looking particularly shifty.

  “You could ask Easton to help you,” Jax suggested. “He’s a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

  “To the best of my recollection, I’ve never been a damsel, no matter how much my distress.”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t Rick Harding punch someone for you last summer?”

  Lana locked eyes with Jax, knowing what he was attempting to do and almost feeling bad for the man. “That was distress, but I maintain there was very little damseling to be found.”

  Mentioning Rick was meant to throw her off her game. And it would have if Jax had asked her if she liked Rick’s broad shoulders (she did) or his pleasant voice (that too) or if she was comparing every color of green and brown to his hazel eyes (they were stunning). But Lana refused to feel bad that Rick had come to her rescue that summer.

  Jax was going to have to try harder.

  “Let’s be honest, Lana. You’re never going to win them over. You’re not catching a moose, you’re not increasing tourism, and you’re not building those condominiums. Not if we can help it.”

  In that moment, Lana understood the “we” Jax was referring to, and it wasn’t his parents. As many years as he spent in New York, Jax was a Moose Springs man through and through.

  Jax might not like Dirty Joe’s, but these were his people, not Lana’s, and they both knew it.

  One point to him.

  “I’m willing to agree to three and a half percent but not four. That’s nonnegotiable. However, I would like another chai latte. I take it with extra chai.”

  Jax stared at her. Lana gazed serenely back. And when he grunted and rolled to his feet, Lana knew she’d at least won the battle. Meeting the eyes of onlookers with a friendly nod, Lana stayed in her chair, alone and deep in enemy territory.

  It was too soon to know if she had any chance of winning this war.

  * * *

  In the winter, there were always more moose in Moose Springs. Which was why it was perfectly normal to wait at a stop sign while a cow and her two calves crossed the street.

  “You can do it. Stay on your feet,” Lana said encouragingly to the smaller of the twin calves, watching its long legs sliding on the ice. It slipped, ending up nose down in the middle of the intersection.

  “Oh no!” She tried not to giggle at the spindled legs flailing about Bambi-esque as it found its way back to its feet. With the cutest little snort, the calf trotted off after its family.

  The driver of a second car waiting patiently in the intersection turned across the four-way stop in Lana’s direction. They shared a grin of mutual appreciation of the cuteness…up until the other driver realized who she was smiling at. Concern creased her face as she passed Lana’s car.

  For a moment, Lana stayed in the four-way stop, wishing for that grin back.

  “If wishes were horses,” Lana said to herself, choosing instead to turn on some holiday music to play in the background before continuing through the town.

  Lana had been a child when they first came to Moose Springs. In fact, the very first moose she had ever seen had been in Moose Springs. Back then, the town was truly a hidden gem, known only to the locals who made the tiny town their home and the few adventurous souls trying to find taller and faster ski slopes.

  The Montgomerys had always wintered in the Swiss Alps, the French Riviera, or occasionally in Aspen. Up until that trip, Lana’s life had been a blur of metropolitan luxury, Spanish villas, and sprawling countryside estates. Too young to understand who they were, Lana had only understood what they were.

  The Montgomerys were the ones everyone looked at when they walked into an office building or construction site. They were the ones who sat at the far ends of the conference tables while others stood and talked. They were a nod, a shake of a head, a tap of a finger on a lacquered wooden surface indicating displeasure.

  It took Lana a long time to realize not every family always dined in suits and ties and carefully set tables on private jets weren’t the norm. That her earliest education—a string of accomplished tutors—was second only to the education she received at her parents’ sides, absorbing boardroom politics as she played with her toys, small quiet things that wouldn’t distract.

  Then they had taken her to Moose Springs, and Lana’s whole view on her life shifted. There was nothing luxurious in town, none of her childish understanding of common amenities. The snow was deep, blanketing this wintery world, and construction on the resort on the hill had only started, so they stayed in a tiny cabin lent to them by a friend of one of her father’s colleagues.

  As she played quietly with her things, absorbing everything from inside the cabin, she’d listened to her parents’ laughter—something so rare that it was cause to take note. In Moose Springs, there were no curt nods. No one tapped an impatient finger or left on a plane for weeks on end.

  A hundred thousand dollars in therapy later, Lana had been informed that she had idealized the town in an attempt to process the high level of emotional disconnect she’d always felt from her family. Yes, they loved one another. And yes, their loyalty to one another ran deep. But that loyalty wasn’t only to the family as people…it was to the family as a business entity.

  Throughout her life, the high pace and higher stress, Lana never forgot her winter in Moose Springs, her parents cuddling by a fire, the neighbor kids knocking on the door and asking her if she wanted to play.

  She did then. She did now too. Unfortunately, no one in Moose Springs wanted to play with a visitor. They were more likely to throw snowballs at her instead.

  Despite her many visits to Moose Springs as an adult, Lana hadn’t found the courage to ask if Graham, Easton, or Ash remembered her from back then. But she remembered them. She remembered Graham’s toothy grin as they made the best snowman ever. How Ash was already tougher than the rest of them. How Easton cried when the snowman fell down and didn’t stop crying until he’d “saved” it again. They were part of her reason for coming back here and why the Tourist Trap was her favorite place to eat.

  Giving the Tourist Trap a subtle social media nudge had truly been meant as a long overdue thank you from a quiet child without many friends her own age. She hadn’t meant to turn Graham’s life into a living hell. Really. She hadn’t. Which was why she tried to go there so often to talk to him, to help him get through another evening. But Graham had Zoey now, and he didn’t need her.

  As Lana drove past the Tourist Trap, a slender brunette at the counter proved Lana’s theory.

  Zoey probably didn’t realize she’d taken Lana’s seat, the one easiest to talk to Graham from. And Graham, so completely in love with Lana’s best friend, would never notice Lana was even gone.

  A hundred thousand dollars in therapy allowed her to drive past and truly be happy for them both. Not to stop, giving the couple the space they needed.

  Maybe a hundred thousand dollars more would help her figure out how not to feel so damn lonely as she drove back to one more hotel room.

  * * *

  It had been another slow night. Not dead but close enough that Rick’s bank account wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. One of these days, no one was going to show up for an entire shift. At which point Rick was going to have to seriously reconsider what he was doing.

  Coming inside, he dropped down his wallet on the end table next to the sofa Diego was currently sprawled across.

  “I’m thinking about selling out,” he told
Diego. “At least the tourists actually show up places.”

  A grunt was all he received from the younger man. Diego must have just gotten home himself because he pulled off his blue shirt of shame—the same blue shirt all the resort employees wore—wadded it up, and lobbed it at the television.

  “I already did sell out,” Diego said.

  “Bad day at work?”

  “Is it ever a good day up there?”

  “Tell me how you really feel.” Rick shrugged. “It pays well. You can get your own place.”

  “Yeah, but who’d keep your grumpy ass company?” Diego dropped down to the couch.

  “Did you see Quinn today?” Rick asked, because like it or not, he was interested in Diego’s life. The kid would just have to deal with it.

  An instant flush of color filled Diego’s face, despite the glare he aimed at his lap.

  “You should ask her out.”

  “You should mind your own business.”

  Maybe, but since Rick was the closest to family Diego had, he could get away with it. “She’s a nice girl, Diego. It’s okay to have something nice in your life. Take a girl out, spend some of that money you’re such a scrooge about.”

  “Take your own advice,” Diego told him, but Rick could see Diego fiddling with his phone. “I’ll go out if you do.”

  Liquid dark eyes and the best smile he’d ever seen decided to pop into his head. She’d given him enough signs of encouragement that Rick wasn’t completely convinced he would get shot down. But finding the courage to ask out the woman of his dreams hadn’t exactly been on his to-do list tonight. He’d planned on disappointing his cat and maybe hanging out with Darla for a while. Just because he didn’t spend his nights heartsick over his ex anymore didn’t mean Rick was ready to move on to being heartsick over someone else. Lana wasn’t exactly a permanent fixture in Moose Springs, and Rick had experienced his fill of being left behind.

  Except, well…the kid really needed to do something healthier than sitting in the physical remnants of Rick’s failed happily ever after, glaring at a blue shirt of shame like it was a copperhead.

  “I’ll call someone if you call Quinn,” Rick conceded. “But it’s not my fault if I get told no.”

  “Way to think positive.” Diego snorted, but Rick could see the younger man thumbing his phone nervously.

  Rejection preferred solitude, but having a hedgehog never hurt. They rarely told a secret. Gathering up Darla to keep him company, Rick dressed her in her ugliest Christmas sweater and matching mittens, then put her inside a heated hedgie sock. Rick went to the porch, tucking Darla inside his Carhartt and zipping it up, breath misting in the air in front of his face. It was dangerous to let a domesticated hedgehog get too cold. They could start to hibernate and grow very sick, even die. But Darla loved being outside with him, so a couple of minutes in her warmer would be okay.

  Unlike some of the people in his town, Rick had never minded the long, dark Alaskan winters. With the dark came the stars. He’d spent a lot of nights for a lot of years sitting beneath this sky, and it was an old friend.

  Some nights, it felt like his best friend.

  The kid wasn’t wrong. It had been a really long time since he’d taken a woman out. Even longer since he’d called a woman for that purpose.

  “What do you think, Darla? Do people even call anymore? Or is it only texting?”

  Darla snorted her cute little snout, wiggling in the warmth inside his jacket.

  Fiddling with the phone in his hand, Rick knew he wasn’t any better than Diego.

  “Screw it,” Rick finally said, typing a message into his phone to Lana and pressing the Send button. She’d given him her number that summer, not that he’d ever called it. There. He’d texted. Except reception always kind of sucked, and the stupid little bar never finished sending the message. It had tricked him before. Did she get it? Did she not get it? What if it got stuck in the ether and kept sending his message over and over again like he was a weirdo?

  Rick had never regretted a “hey” more.

  A little text bubble popped up, briefly restoring his faith in technology and the blood flow to his twisting stomach.

  “Call me?” he read aloud.

  Rick supposed the invitation was better than a few other responses he could have gotten. Yet somehow the idea of calling Lana was far worse than accidentally repeat texting her.

  With a sigh, Rick sat on the cold wooden slats of his porch swing, unzipping his jacket a bit so Darla could look out.

  The door slammed shut behind him. Diego stomped down the steps, hands shoved in his pockets.

  “Where are you going?” he called. Diego ignored him by opening his car door. “Did Quinn say yes?”

  Diego answered that with a finger.

  “Think that means yes?” Rick asked the hedgehog in his jacket. “You lost your mitten, Darla.”

  Darla wiggled her little snout, letting Rick tug the protective mitten over her tiny foot before snugging the heated sock around her.

  “I think she said yes.” Rick rolled Darla over into the crook of his arm. He’d never had children, but he’d wanted them. A surly twenty-year-old, a grumpy cat, and a hedgehog named after a Buffy the Vampire Slayer vampire weren’t exactly the family he’d planned on, but Rick had learned a long time ago to be grateful for what he had. It could all change in a moment.

  He and Diego had that in common.

  Since his hedgehog was more important than even this evening’s starscape, Rick went back inside and tucked Darla into her heated cage, warming sock and all.

  A little squeak met his actions.

  “I know, I know, but they come off when you come out of the sock. It’s the rules, Darla.” She squeaked again. “Baby, it’s the rules.”

  The squeaking hadn’t gone unnoticed. After securing her cage, Rick turned to find a pair of tawny eyes blinking at him from the top of his desk, an orange tail twitching.

  “Don’t eat my hedgehog, Roger. We’ve talked about this.” Roger glared at him balefully.

  No one ever listened to him.

  When Rick finally had the nerve to call Lana, four hedgie mittens and a bowl of cereal had been attended to, and one cat had been removed from the office, the door safely closed. He returned to the porch, figuring if anyone needed some privacy from a judgmental tabby while making an ass of themselves, it was him.

  She answered on the second ring.

  “I was starting to wonder if it was me.” Lana’s voice sounded amused on the other end of the line.

  “My hedgehog had a mitten issue. And my cat had a hedgehog issue.”

  “Your evening sounds far more interesting than mine,” Lana said. “The only issue I’ve had is whether or not to have an olive in my martini.”

  How could she do that? Jump right into a conversation like it was nothing when he’d cleared his throat twice in the last two moments, hands sweating in his gloves. Was it hot? It felt hot.

  “I’m not a big drinker,” Rick told her, going for a third throat clear because apparently, he wasn’t capable of better. “Never had a martini.”

  “So…what are you wearing?”

  Rick’s jaw loosened, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

  “I’m teasing you,” Lana said, sounding a bit embarrassed. “Ignore me. I’ve had one too many olives.”

  “I’m pretty sure I couldn’t ignore you if I tried.”

  Silence, and then a soft laugh. “Rick Harding, did you flirt with me?”

  “Flirted back,” Rick said. “You started it.”

  “Really? I remember a certain ‘hey baby’ text not that long ago.”

  “I didn’t say ‘baby.’” Rick choked on his horror. Yes, it really was hot out there. The twenty-degree weather was much too warm for his clothing choices.

  “The ‘baby’ wa
s implied,” Lana assured him.

  “Lana, what are you doing right now? Other than the martini olives?”

  “I’m trying to figure out how to catch an elusive, violently destructive Santa Moose without the benefit of experience or anything remotely resembling expertise. Why do you ask?”

  Rick took a breath, took a chance, and then did the one thing he wasn’t ready for…not by a long shot.

  “Would you like some company?”

  Apparently, Lana would.

  * * *

  It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a booty call. Frankly, neither one of them seemed to have any idea of what exactly this was.

  But whatever it was, there was a long discussion about ice cream sandwiches and what constituted a dad bod. Lana wasn’t sure how the topic had come up, but it probably was the reason Rick had spent the last ten minutes showing her pictures of his fur babies on his phone.

  “You have a hedgehog. Is that a Christmas sweater?”

  “Darla is a bit of a fashionista in the winter.”

  Lana had never been so delighted. Well, she’d once met a baby python snake that preferred top hats and a cummerbund, but Darla had edged out the snake, paws down. Teeny tiny reindeer-themed mitten-covered paws.

  She had been close to retiring for the evening, but when a man like Rick “hey baby-ed” her, it was impossible to resist. They’d sat at a little table in the corner of the bar, the trendy plush seating too deep and far too reclined to have a decent conversation in. The seating in her suite was more comfortable, but she didn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Besides, the last man who’d been in her room had been there to convince Zoey to fall in love with him.

  “Can I buy you another drink?” Rick asked, the words catching a little in his throat, as if he wasn’t used to saying them.

  She hesitated, playing with the skewer that had once held an olive in her martini. “I’ll have a water with you. I’d hate to be the only one tipsy at the end of the evening.”

  Lana had made a point a long time ago to never let someone else pay for her. She didn’t like the way it made her feel, as if she was beholden to them for at least a moment of her company. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go that many drinks in when he’d been sipping water since he’d joined her.