by Teri Wilson
“Zoey needs a Santa for the sleigh. She wanted you, but she said you wouldn’t do it.”
“She never asked me.” Not that he would have agreed, under any circumstances.
Still, she hadn’t even asked.
He should have been relieved. Why wasn’t he?
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re dressed as Santa now. The festival isn’t for three days,” Ben said.
“Dress rehearsal.” Brock straightened his red furry hat.
There was no way Alec would have put that thing on his head. Not even for her. “Why don’t we forget the suit and get started?”
“Sounds good,” Ben said, still fighting a smirk.
Alec led them—and the reindeer he still had tethered with the lead rope—to the sleigh.
Ben looked it over. “This is a nice piece of equipment. Where did you say Zoey got it?”
Brock helped hold Prancer in place as Ben attempted to connect her harness to the sleigh. “She borrowed it from Tom Wilkins.”
Finally. A name to go with the face. Alec looked up. “Who is this Tom Wilkins character, exactly?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he was alarmed to realize that he sounded like an overprotective parent. Or worse, a jealous boyfriend.
It didn’t go unnoticed.
Brock let out a laugh. “You’re not jealous of Tom Wilkins, are you?”
“No,” he sputtered, even though the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach felt an awful lot like jealousy.
What was happening to him? He shouldn’t care about Tom Wilkins and his silly sleigh. He shouldn’t care about anyone in Aurora. Least of all Zoey. He would be gone in a matter of days.
And yet...
And yet he couldn’t help thinking about who might take his place once he was gone. With the farm, with the reindeer.
With Zoey.
If that weren’t bad enough, somewhere in the periphery of his consciousness he was actually considering putting on the ridiculous Santa suit. He scarcely recognized himself.
“Yeah, you don’t sound jealous at all.” Brock’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Alec ground his teeth together.
“Relax.” Ben gave Alec a slap on the back. “Tom Wilkins and Zoey went out a few times back in high school, but he’s married with five kids now.”
Five kids?
He felt better all of a sudden. “I really don’t care.”
Brock nodded slowly. “Sure you don’t.”
Even Ben, who’d known Alec for all of five minutes, looked as if he wasn’t buying it. Alec was beginning to wonder if he bought it himself.
She deserves better than the likes of you.
He cleared his throat. “Shall we get back to the reindeer? I’ve got three days to figure this thing out.”
“Sure. That’s why we’re here.” Brock cast a knowing look in Ben’s direction but let the matter drop. Thankfully.
Before long, they had four reindeer hooked up to the sleigh. Prancer and Snowflake stood side by side in the lead position, with Holly and Sparkle directly behind.
“Do you think four will be enough?” The sleigh was big enough for only one or two people, and with inches upon inches of snow on the ground, it should slide easily. But Alec hated the idea of any of the reindeer getting hurt.
Ben nodded. “Four will be plenty. Actually, one reindeer could manage this sleigh.”
Alec’s gaze moved from Snowflake, pawing at the ground, to Ben. “You’re kidding.”
Ben ran a hand over Prancer’s smooth side. “Nope. Reindeer are remarkably strong. And fortunately for you, extremely docile. They’ve been doing this kind of work for thousands of years, so it’s in their blood. If you were trying this with just about any other animal, it would be another story entirely.”
Alec supposed he should be grateful he’d landed on a farm with reindeer rather than moose or elk. Then again, if this were an elk farm, he wouldn’t be neck-deep in jingle bells and glitter. “You know a lot about reindeer.”
Ben shrugged. “Not really. I just know a lot about sledding.”
“Well, they’re hooked up, but they don’t look like they’re in much of a hurry to go anywhere,” Brock said.
“With the kind of time frame you’ve got, I think the best idea is to keep using the lead rope and simply lead them where you want them to go with the sled. Will that work?” Ben cast a questioning glance in Alec’s direction.
“Do I have a choice?”
Ben laughed. “Probably not.”
“Then it’ll work. Zoey just wants them to pull Santa around in the sleigh for a bit. And maybe give the children rides. She thinks the kids will get a kick out of it. I doubt anyone will notice if the reindeer need a little guidance.” Alec picked up Prancer’s and Snowflake’s lead ropes and walked backward a few paces.
The reindeer fell in step with one another. The sleigh cut a clean path through the snow behind them. And even though it was a sight straight off the front of a Christmas card, Alec couldn’t help the swell of joy that rose up in his chest. There was something special about seeing a group of magnificent reindeer pulling a sleigh. Even he could appreciate it.
Wait until Zoey sees this. She’ll love it.
“Would you look at that?” Brock’s huge grin was visible even beneath the puffy white cloud of his Santa beard. “They’re doing it.”
They’re doing it, all right.
Ben let out a whoop of triumph and clapped his hands. “Gentlemen, it looks like the reindeer are ready for Christmas.”
Alec’s throat grew tight. He didn’t say anything, for fear he might get choked up. Then he realized the fact that he was getting all misty over a bunch of reindeer and a sleigh was more of a cause for concern than what Ben and Brock might think.
What was happening to him?
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come.
The thought hit him out of the blue. He swayed on his feet from the force of it before dismissing it as fantasy. Hadn’t he been fooled by such a notion before?
Impossible. No one can wave a magic wand and make the past disappear. Not me. Not Zoey. Not even God.
No matter how much he wished someone could.
* * *
Zoey reached a gloved hand into the huge box of Christmas lights she’d borrowed—another treasure someone had brought to the thrift shop—and tugged on one end of a green electrical cord. All the contents of the box lifted out at once in a giant wad of wires, bulbs and plugs.
“Would you look at this, Dasher? I think this tangle of cords is bigger than you are.” Zoey dropped the mess back in the box, and the dog’s ears pricked forward at the sound of her name.
She rose an inch off the porch, her furry body taut as a bow, ready to spring into action at Zoey’s command.
“Relax. As capable as you are, I don’t think untangling Christmas lights is your thing. That would require thumbs, which you don’t have. No offense.”
Dasher sighed, lowered herself back down on the braided rug in front of the threshold and rested her muzzle on her outstretched paws. She looked deceptively ordinary stretched out like that. Zoey knew better. Dasher always had one eye trained on Palmer. Even now, when both of the dog’s eyelids were nearly closed, Zoey knew that if Palmer decided to stop scratching his chin on the fence post and mosey to the far end of the pasture, Dasher would spring to her feet before he took two steps.
Too bad she couldn’t help with the lights. The dog’s work ethic would have come in handy.
Zoey glanced up at the log columns and the slender log railing that wrapped around the length of the porch, imagining how great they’d looked wrapped in glittering lights. Like a winter wonderland. Perfect for the Reindeer Roun
dup.
She tossed her gloves aside. “I guess there’s only one way to start.”
She dug around until she found the end of one of the strands of lights and went to work systematically freeing it from the others. By the time she had three long strands of lights laid out in neat rows on the porch, her fingers had grown numb from the cold. But when she plugged the first string of lights into the outlet, her numb fingers were suddenly the least of her problems.
Nothing happened. No lights flickered to life. Not even the slightest twinkle.
Super.
Dasher’s tail beat on the wooden floor of the porch in a gleeful tempo.
“What are you so happy about?” Zoey mumbled.
“Good morning to you, too.”
Zoey’s head snapped up. “Alec.”
Great. Just what she needed. A Grinch. To make this experience even more pleasant.
She’d been so caught up in the lights that she hadn’t even heard the rumble of his motorcycle. But he’d obviously been riding it, because his face was red, kissed by the wind, and his hair was charmingly rumpled. Helmet hair had never looked quite so good, which was patently unfair. Every time she’d worn his helmet she’d walked away looking like a drowned rat.
As usual, he was dressed head to toe in black. Snow dusted his shoulders, and he held two paper cups in his hands. The rich scents of peppermint and mocha swirled around him and made Zoey’s mouth water.
His blue eyes narrowed. “Now I know something’s wrong. You called me by my name instead of Ebenezer.”
“I’m feeling rather Scroogy myself right now.”
“Here. Maybe this will help.” He handed her one of the mochas.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks flushed.
He’d brought her coffee. Good coffee from the Northern Lights Inn. Since when did he do things like that?
Alec gazed quizzically at her cup as she brought it to her lips, as if he couldn’t quite figure out the answer to that question himself.
He cleared his throat. “It’s some Christmas concoction. It sounded like something you’d enjoy. That was before I knew my Grinchiness had become contagious.”
“It’s not you. It’s that.” She waved a hand toward the box, still crammed with a pile of wires that resembled a tangle of green spaghetti. “I finally got a few strings of lights free, and they don’t even work.”
He fixed his gaze on the unlit strand and then back at her. Something in his cool blue eyes caused her stomach to tumble. “Would you like some help?”
He looked less than thrilled to make the offer. Was this some kind of test?
Zoey took a steadying inhale. “I thought you were a ranch hand, not a party planner.”
“I asked if you needed help.” Again, he didn’t sound all that eager to get tangled up in a bunch of Christmas lights.
“I can handle it.” She took another sip of the mocha and noticed a slight tremor in the cup.
Why were her hands shaking? Worse yet, why was there a flutter still deep in her belly?
“I didn’t ask if you could handle it. I asked if you wanted some help, which I would be happy to provide if you simply ask for it.” Finally, his lips quirked into a grin. A challenging grin, but a grin nonetheless.
“You want me to beg for your help?” No way. She’d rather untangle lights until her fingers froze and fell off.
“Not beg. Just ask.” He shrugged. He was the perfect picture of nonchalance.
It was infuriating.
Did he really think she couldn’t ask for help? That she couldn’t admit when she needed someone?
Not someone. Him.
Her cheeks grew hot as he stood there waiting. Now she’d have to ask for his help just to prove him wrong.
She lifted her chin defiantly. “Alec, my big strong rescuer...”
He shook his head. “No sarcasm.”
“No sarcasm?”
“Nope.”
She stared down at her cup. It was far easier than looking him in the eye. “Would you please help me, Alec?”
He reached out, gently cupped her chin and dragged her gaze to his. “Look at me, Zoey.”
His voice was so unexpectedly tender, it cut straight to her heart. She felt tears gather at the backs of her eyes as she tried to form the words again. Why was this so difficult?
He’s right. He’s been right all along. I push people away because I don’t want to need them.
It was a humbling realization. And more than a little terrifying. She didn’t want to need anyone, least of all him.
“Alec.” Her voice trembled. “Would you please help me?”
He smiled. It was probably the biggest smile she’d ever seen on that handsome face of his. “Of course, sweetheart. I thought you’d never ask.”
The fluttering in her belly increased tenfold.
Good grief, what was wrong with her? He was helping her string Christmas lights...
...and calling her sweetheart. In a way that sounded oddly genuine.
He took a step closer. Zoey found herself growing light-headed, and she had to concentrate with all her might in order not to spill her mocha on his feet. He stood so close she could see the rise and fall of his impressive chest with each breath he took. She gave him a wobbly smile. At least, she thought it was a smile. She couldn’t be sure since she’d suddenly lost all ability to focus on anything but his nearness.
He’s not going to kiss me, is he?
She glanced at his mouth. Her heartbeat slammed into overdrive as she realized she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it very much.
He tilted his head and looked down at her with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Zoey,” he said in a tone that positively smoldered.
“Yes?” she asked in a breathy whisper, her lips parting ever so slightly.
He pointed toward the ground. “You’re standing on the Christmas lights.”
She blinked. What?
“I’d love to give you a hand, but I can’t so long as you’re standing on the lights.” Then—just in case her humiliation wasn’t complete—he set his mocha down on the porch railing and picked her up by the shoulders, clear off her feet.
“Put me down!” she squealed. “What are you doing?”
“Helping.” He chuckled. “Just like you asked.”
“This is not helping. You’re...you’re manhandling me.” And she’d thought he was going to kiss her. She was mortified.
He lowered her gently to the ground but left his hands firmly in place on her shoulders. “Calm down. This doesn’t come any more naturally to me than it does to you, you know.”
She scowled at him. “What are you talking about?”
His gaze softened, and his smile turned almost bittersweet. “You don’t let yourself need anyone. And I don’t let myself be needed.”
She let her shoulders relax under the weight of his big hands. “Oh.”
“Not to mention the fact that I’m basically living at Santa’s workshop right now, and...”
“...and you’re a Grinch.”
“And I’m a Grinch.” He rubbed her shoulders, and warmth began to blossom inside her. “I told you—I never grew up with any of this, Zoey. No twinkling lights, no sitting on Santa’s lap, no presents under the tree. No tree, for that matter.” His gaze darkened.
Zoey had to wonder if he was thinking about the Christmas when he’d almost had a tree...and a wife.
She still found it difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that Alec had once been engaged to be married. She just couldn’t fathom it. And she was startled to realize she didn’t want to imagine Alec with someone else.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?”
“Yes. I’m sorry you grew up without tho
se things, and I’m sorry about what happened with your fiancée. You’re a good man, Alec. And she...”
“...got smart. She got smart. That’s all.” Alec nodded. Firmly.
The vulnerability slipped instantly from his expression. Before her eyes the thoughtful, sensitive man standing in front of her disappeared, leaving the old Alec in his place.
Zoey wanted to argue with him, but there was an edge to his posture that told her the discussion was closed. Permanently.
He removed his hands from her shoulders and crossed his arms in front of him. “I think we should get back to the lights now. Don’t you?”
It wasn’t a question. He bent to pick up the lights and scrutinize each bulb while Zoey could only stand and wonder about a little boy who’d never experienced Christmas. Who’d never believed in Santa Claus or sung a Christmas carol.
A man whose heart had been broken on Christmas Eve.
And as the furious wind whipped around them, bitter and cold, a little piece of her own heart broke, too.
Chapter Fourteen
Alec grimaced as he nudged his packed duffel bag with his foot, inching it closer to the door of his cabin. There it was—the sum total of his life, packed and folded into something smaller than a bag of reindeer feed. He’d always taken pride in the fact that he wasn’t the type to cling to useless possessions, that he’d managed to build a satisfying life, free of unnecessary trappings and frills.
Now it just seemed pathetic. Like a cop-out of sorts.
What kind of person made it through thirty years of life with only a motorcycle and the clothes on his back to show for it?
The kind like your parents.
The kind like you.
He gave the duffel bag another scowl, kicked off his hiking boots and dropped down on the bed.
His mood had taken a dark turn in recent hours. He wished he could blame it on the tangled mess of Christmas lights he’d become intimately acquainted with over the course of the afternoon, but he knew better. As much as he would have liked to blame his bad temper on something—anything—to do with Christmas, he simply couldn’t.
Because he’d almost enjoyed it. Particularly after he’d finally gotten Zoey to break down and admit she needed his help.
