Blackstone Ranger Scrooge - Alicia Montgomery Page 0,3
Thanksgiving sweater—the one with a roasted turkey on the front that proclaimed “I like Big Breasts and I Cannot Lie.” It was a big hit with the guys at the garage, so she was sure everyone at the party would love it.
After clocking out early for the day, she said goodbye to the crew and hopped into her truck. Since the rangers were in charge of keeping the mountains safe, their headquarters were located up in the Blackstone Mountains.
With the change in seasons, the trees and mountains presented a gorgeous view, making the drive a pleasant one, so she took her time. Eventually, she pulled up to the huge stone and log building, which stood at the entrance to the public area of the mountains, and parked her truck in the nearest empty spot. The party was probably going to be in the big cafeteria in the back, so she circled around the main building and walked into the open-air hall. Sure enough, the place was fully dressed to the nines in fall colors and decorations. She walked over to where Damon, Anna Victoria, Gabriel, Temperance, Dutchy, and Krieger sat down at one of the tables, which overflowed with wreathes, pine cones, ribbons, and other fall-themed accoutrements.
“It looks like Thanksgiving came in here and threw up all over the place!” she exclaimed, her eyes taking in all the fall harvest decorations. “I love it! Thanks for inviting me.”
Damon rolled his eyes when his saw her sweater. “J.D. loves the holidays, in case none of you noticed.”
“I do!” Seeing the empty spot next to Dutchy Forrester, she plopped down beside the fox shifter. “I mean, I love Halloween because that means it’s almost time for Thanksgiving, and I love Thanksgiving because it means soon it’ll be my favorite holiday of all time—Christmas! Woot!” She pumped her fist in the air.
“Oh God,” Gabriel slapped a hand on his forehead. “I forgot what a nightmare you are during the holidays.”
“I am not a nightmare,” she denied.
Damon raised a brow. “Remember that time you dragged us to Verona Mills so you could see Santa Claus and then got us kicked out of the mall because you fought with Santa’s elf?”
Oh yeah. How could she forget? As far as she knew, she was still banned from entering Verona Fair Mall. “That wasn’t my fault,” J.D. said. “He clearly lacked the Christmas spirit and needed to do a better job of representing the good elves of the North Pole.”
“You called him out because he wouldn’t let you sit on Santa’s lap,” Gabriel said.
“See?” She spread her arms wide, as if that proved her point. “Lack of Christmas spirit.”
“You were sixteen,” Damon pointed out.
J.D. harrumphed. “Unlike the sign they posted outside the Christmas village, the lyrics of that famous song didn’t say ‘to kids from ONLY one to twelve’ now did it?” She stuck her tongue out at Damon and Gabriel, then turned to Dutchy, grabbing one of the rolls of ribbons on the table. “Can I help?”
“Sure,” Dutchy said. “Here … let me show you.”
Her friend patiently showed her how to tie the shiny gold and orange ribbon into bows. Hmmm, simple enough, she thought. However, there was something missing with the wreaths. They didn’t look festive enough. So, she decided to unroll the entire spool so she could make bigger and better ribbons. Glancing around, she found a bunch of what looked like leftover decor stuff under the table.
Oooh! She grabbed a handful of maple leaves, some pine cones, an ear of corn, and a mini pumpkin. It took a lot of work, not to mention cuts on her fingers, but she somehow managed to get everything on an empty wreath.
“Uh, so did I do it right?” she asked Dutchy sheepishly as she held up her creation.
“J.D.!” Dutchy exclaimed. “What did you—how did you even manage to get these maple leaves wrapped up in here?”
“What?” J.D. asked innocently. “I thought it looked festive.”
“Er, it’s certainly … interesting,” Dutchy said. “But … let me give you some tips …”
As Dutchy helped her put her wreath to rights, more people joined them, including Daniel Rogers, his mate Sarah, and her adopted brother Adam. Of course, where they went, Darcey Wednesday, Sarah’s sister came, too, along with her mate, Anders Stevens.
“… but, great job, Dutchy,” Anders said. When his gaze landed on J.D.’s wreath, he grimaced. “Now that looks like your handiwork, McNamara.”
“Go fuck a French horn, Stevens,” she hissed.
“Be a nice kitty now,” he chortled. “So …