The Grump Who Stole Christmas: Kringle Family Christmas Book One

by S Doyle

  The Grump Who Stole Christmas

  Kringle Family Christmas Book One

  S. Doyle

  Copyright © 2021 by S. Doyle

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Very Merry Married

  Also by S. Doyle

  1

  A Few Weeks before Christmas

  On the Side of a Mountain

  Kristen

  I stared at the flat tire and considered my options.

  “Can’t call Dad,” I said aloud, as I chewed on my thumbnail. “He and his broken leg are the reason I’m here in the first place. Can’t call Ethan because he’s got that city council meeting, which is why he couldn’t pick me up from the airport and I had to rent this stupid car in the first place. Of course, I could attempt to change the tire myself. Dad taught me when I got my license. But I’d been sixteen the last time I did this. Good bet I’m probably pretty rusty. Can I look up a YouTube video?”

  “Uh, excuse me.”

  I screamed and jumped at the sound of the deep voice behind me. I whirled and could see a set of headlights through the dark and falling snow.

  “Sorry,” the voice, coming from the direction of the car, said again. “I tried to let you know I was here, but you were…talking to yourself pretty aggressively there.”

  I’d had my back turned, and with my headlights still on I hadn’t seen the approach of the other car’s headlights behind me.

  “Why didn’t I hear your car?” I snapped.

  “It’s electric,” explained the deep voice. “Uh. Sorry?”

  “Stay where you are,” I shouted at him, even as I saw him pull away from the car to approach me.

  He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, but that meant nothing. He’d taken two steps toward me, and as dark as it was, I could still see he was huge. Like, over six foot, two hundred pounds huge.

  “I have a gun!” I screeched.

  “Whoa! Okay, sorry, lady. I’m backing away right now. Just going to get back in my car and go. Good luck…with everything. Whatever.”

  Shit. I wanted to scare him, not frighten him away. The truth was I had no chance of changing a tire on the side of this mountain and the snow was starting to fall really, really hard, so the odds of more traffic coming by here, seemed pretty long.

  “I mean…I have pepper spray. Just pepper spray.”

  I could see his head tilt to the side like he was trying to make sense of me.

  “Okay, fine. I’m a woman alone at night, on the side of a mountain and you just crept up behind me in your car…”

  “It’s electric. It doesn’t make sounds.”

  “And I freaked out a little,” I finished. “That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  “Sure. I saw you pulled over, your hazard lights were on, and I thought I could help. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose. Can you change a tire?”

  “Yes. But I need to approach the car.”

  “My name is Kristen,” I told him. “I’m telling you that not to introduce myself, but to make you understand I’m a person. I’m humanizing myself in case you’re a psycho killer.”

  “Lady, I’m pretty sure of the two of us, I’m more afraid of you right now. But if you want to back up a few steps so you feel comfortable, I’ll change the tire and let you get on your way.”

  I did back up. The trunk was open because I’d checked first to see if there was a spare before I went through the list of people I could call before attempting to change the tire myself.

  I stood by the front of the car while he inspected the trunk. I could see him better now, illuminated by the headlights of his car now. Large. Broad. Jeans, flannel shirt. Thick beard.

  He screamed Colorado. Almost predictably so.

  He lifted the tire out of the well it was sitting in, then removed the jack.

  “I was going to try and do it myself,” I said. “I don’t want you to think I’m some princess waiting on the side of the road for some knight to come by and rescue me.”

  “Got it,” he grunted.

  “I just didn’t think I could manage…”

  “It’d be pretty hard in those shoes.”

  I glanced down at my stilettos. My now snow-soaked, ruined Jimmy Choos. I folded my winter coat around me and tried not to think about how cold my feet were.

  He got out the tire iron and instinctively I took another step back, but all he did was bring it to the side of the car. He fitted the jack in place and used the tire iron to lift the car up. Then he cursed and reversed the jack until the car was once again settled on the ground.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Forgot to loosen the lug nuts first. Been a while since I changed a tire, truth be told.”

  “Swell,” I muttered. I couldn’t be rescued by a professional tire-changing knight?

  “Run flats,” he explained, pointing back to his car.

  “Smart,” I nodded. “I didn’t have much choice at the airport, as late as it is. Speaking of late…what brings you out here on a snowy night after…” I checked my Apple watch, “…ten?”

  “Oh, just out looking for defenseless woman stranded on the side of the road. You see any of those in your travels?”

  I made a face he couldn’t see. “You’re a riot. Look, I’m not crazy, okay? I’m cautious.”

  “Sorry. You must not be from around here. We don’t get a lot of serial killers in Salt Springs.”

  I laughed at that. “Oh, I’m from around here. It’s just been a while. Where I come from strangers don’t just help people out of the goodness of their heart.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Who did you say you were?”

  “I didn’t. Name’s Paul. That’s just me introducing myself to you. I’m not trying to humanize myself or anything.”

  “Can you just…” I said, pointing to the tire.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I watched as he put the tire iron on the lug nut and shoved. Then pushed. Then pulled. Then pushed again. He made a noise and stepped back. He removed the round part of the tire iron and secured it over a different nut.

  “Mother!” he exclaimed after more grunting.

  “What?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “These fuckers…sorry, nuts…are on tight.”

  Cautiously, I got a little closer in case this was a trap, but even from a few feet away I could see he couldn’t get any leverage in the snow. So it was all arm muscle. From here his biceps looked sufficiently impressive, but clearly they couldn’t get the job done.

  He backed off, looked at the tire like he was now engaged in mortal combat, and tried again. More grunting. More cursing.

  No result.

  “Are you putting me on?” I asked him. “Is this like some kind of humble country boy routine? Because I promise you, I’m not impressed. You know what
would impress me? Changing the tire.”

  He glared at me then. “It’s late. It’s snowing. You’ve been as nice as a fucking porcupine while I’m trying to do this. Do you seriously think I’m faking?”

  “Maybe?” I said.

  I walked over to where the tire iron was still connected to the nut and pulled on it. I might have been trying to move the Earth, that’s how little it gave.

  “Watch out,” he said, and went back to work.

  This time he tried to stomp on it, but again the snow underneath his foot was too slippery. He would have fallen on his ass if he hadn’t caught himself on the car.

  “Sonofabitch! Damn machines screwed them on too tight! I swear I’m going to tear my gut up if I keep trying.”

  “I know what you need to do,” I announced.

  “You do?” he asked, sounding highly skeptical.

  “I’m in the insurance industry. Risk assessment is what I do. You can’t get any leverage with just your arms, or with one foot, so you need to jump on it with both feet.”

  “What, now?”

  I pointed to the tire iron still connected to the lug nut. “Jump on it. You know just jump on the tire iron. Both feet, same time, all your weight. It’s physics.”

  “Physics?”

  “Sc-ie-n-ce,” I said slowly, in case he didn’t know what physics was.

  “Oh, physics! You mean like Phys. Ed? Gym class? Funny, I don’t remember jumping on a tire iron as part of my curriculum.”

  He was stroking his beard in a thoughtful way that made me feel like I was being put on.

  “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

  He stepped in front of me before I could even make the attempt.

  “Lady, you’re, like, what, a hundred twenty pounds? And that’s with the snowfall in your hair. You got no shot.”

  I gasped in outrage. “You don’t just announce a woman’s weight like that! Besides, men don’t even know women’s weights. We’re either a hundred and five, a hundred ten, or a hundred and fifteen. The scale stops there.”

  “Fine. Whatever one of those weights you are…you jump on that tire iron in those shoes, in this snow, and the only thing you’ll likely do is crack your skull on the road. Then I’ll have to carry you, and I will, sure as hell, accurately guess how much you weigh then.”

  “You’re not going to even try?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re going to do what? Leave me out here?”

  He winced. “That’s not an option, right?”

  “No! It’s not an option!”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll drive you into town and drop you off. Send Sully at the auto shop back here to tow the car.”

  “You expect me to just get in the car with you? A stranger? Has this been your plan all along?”

  “Oh come on, lady!” he shouted, staring up at the falling snow. “If I were going to kill you, trust me, I would have done it right after the whole patronizing sc-ie-n-ce comment. Now get in the car, so I can unload you as soon as I possibly can.”

  I sniffed, feeling slightly insulted. “Can I get my suitcase?”

  “Sure,” he said flatly.

  I opened the back door and pulled out my suitcase, which he picked up for me and easily walked back to his car.

  “It’s not too heavy is it?” I poked at him, as I followed. “Wouldn’t want you to tear your gut up.”

  He stopped and stared at me then.

  I was pretty sure, had his eyes been laser beams, I would have been a dead woman.

  “So this is a Tesla,” I said, after a few minutes of tense, silent driving. It was true. This car actually made no noise. It was a little unnerving.

  “Yep.”

  “Does it handle well in the snow?”

  “It does okay.”

  “How far are we from town?”

  “A few minutes. Or a lifetime, depending on one’s perspective,” he drawled.

  “Look,” I said, slightly exacerbated. “I’m sorry if I came off a little…intense. It’s just that I’ve got a lot going on and that flat tire was like the absolute last thing I needed to deal with.”

  “Crazy.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It was just so freaking crazy that it had to happen at that moment.”

  “No, I meant you didn’t come off as intense, you came off as crazy. Like crazy.”

  He was gesturing with his finger and circling it around his ear.

  “I’m not crazy!”

  “You were talking to yourself so loud you didn’t even hear me call out to you.”

  “It’s a nervous habit,” I said defensively. It wasn’t the first time I’d been caught doing it either. “When confronted with a problem, I like to work through all my options. Saying them out loud helps me to weigh each one and choose which direction to take.”

  “Okay.”

  I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. I was done talking to this man.

  I was not the bad guy in this situation. My dad was hurt. I’d dropped everything to come home and take care of him. Maybe I freaked out a little too hard over some massive stranger approaching me on a dark and snowy night, but that did not make me crazy.

  “I’m from New York,” I said, even though I told myself to shut up. “Manhattan to be precise.”

  “Oh. Got it. That explains everything.”

  “I’m not saying that’s why I was talking to myself. I’m just explaining we move at a slightly different speed in New York and that’s why I might seem a little intense to you.” I put the emphasis on intense as it was all I was willing to concede.

  Crazy. Who would ever describe me as crazy?

  Okay, maybe a few people, but they were haters and didn’t count.

  “Well, you’re in Salt Springs now. Did you say you were from around these parts?”

  “Not around these parts. Here. I’m from Salt Springs.”

  “Really?” I could hear the skepticism in his voice.

  “Yes, really,” I said emphatically. “My dad runs the Kringle Inn and Christmas Tree Farm.”

  “Wait, you’re Chris’s daughter?” he asked.

  “Yes. You know my dad?”

  “Everyone knows your dad.”

  It was true. In Salt Sprints, home of the legendary Salt Sprints Christmas Jamboree, Chris Kringle was somewhat of a celebrity.

  “Well, if you know him, then you know he recently had an accident. I’m here to evaluate his condition and assess the situation.”

  “Evaluate and assess, huh.”

  There it was again. That tone of his that made me feel like he was either mocking me or figuring out the closest mental health institution to take me to.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, his gaze on the road ahead of us. “Just that most folks from here would simply say you were visiting your pop.”

  “Yes, well, I’m doing that too. And evaluating and assessing.”

  “Got it.”

  I turned to look at him but couldn’t really get a read on his expression. Probably because hair covered, like, eighty percent of his face. I could see cheekbones, though, prominent ones.

  He didn’t look familiar, though. A man his age, which I’m guessing was pretty close to mine, I would have known him if he had grown up in Salt Springs.

  “So you live in Salt Springs?”

  “I do.”

  “But you’re not from here or we would have met at some point.”

  “Correct. But I have heard about you. From your dad. He thinks you’re pretty cool.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. My father has always been my biggest fan. “See? He doesn’t think I’m crazy.”

  “Well, fathers can be blind to their children’s faults.”

  I scowled at him but he didn’t see it as he was making a turn onto the small road that would lead to the inn, which was just on the outskirts of what we called downtown, but was really one main street of store fronts, a town square, and houses that made up Salt Springs.<
br />
  The road inclined pretty steeply but the car did manage it in the snow. After a minute, I saw a flash of the Kringle shingle in the headlights that announced the turnoff into the inn. The road forked here, one leading to the inn, the other to our house. I guess I wasn’t too surprised Paul knew that the right turnoff lead to the house. It was no secret where my dad lived.

  We bumped over the dirt driveway until we came to a stop in front of the main house.

  Home. Never changing. Ever fixed in my mind.

  Except, was it my imagination, or did it feel like the house was a little more weathered looking than usual? It was probably just the dark, the snow covering, and my lousy mood.

  “Well, thank you,” I said as I got out of the car. He was already out and opening the back door to get my suitcase. “I’m sure this is not what you planned for your night either.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Kristen,” I corrected him. “And this time I am introducing myself.”

  “Paul,” he reminded me as we climbed the stairs of the stoop to the front door of the house. An overhang protected the porch from the snow so it was mostly clear. The outside light was on because my dad knew I was due home tonight. I hoped he hadn’t waited up for me. He needed his rest to heal.

  “Nice to meet you,” Paul said as he stretched out his hand.

  My lips twisted in a half smile as I took his hand and shook it. “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Well, maybe you could evaluate and assess me over time and then see if it’s true.”

  Right. This guy did not like me. Not the first time I’d put off someone by just being me.

  “I’m only here until Christmas, so let’s just hope for both of our sakes this is the last interaction we’ll need to have. Goodnight.”

  Just then the door opened, and my father, who should have been asleep, was instead standing in the doorway on crutches. The cast on his leg covered his foot and knee, all the way up to mid thigh.