couldn’t get over it. And when she returned that smile, his heart paused in his chest, took its own breath, and finally started to beat again.
This time, Rick moved fast enough to hold the door open for her before following her into the restaurant. She stopped so quickly, he bumped into Lana’s back, quickly placing a hand on her hip to steady them both.
“Sorry—” he started to say, then Rick trailed off, finally seeing what had caused his date to hit the brakes.
Rick had lived in Alaska his entire life. Many people he knew were avid hunters, and some relied on hunting and fishing to feed their families throughout the winter. Even though it had always struck him as macabre to mount a trophy animal on a wall, he was used to it. Growing up in Alaska meant one wasn’t a stranger to that sort of thing.
But even he had never seen this much taxidermy in a single room.
“Are they—?” Lana started, sounding startled more than horrified.
“Squirrels.” Rick kept his hand on her hip out of sheer protective instinct. One did not expect to step into a room with taxidermy squirrels everywhere.
“And are they—?”
Rick shuddered. “They’re dressed for the holiday season.”
Looking around, Rick had no idea what to do. Everywhere he looked was another squirrel. One dressed as an early 1900s St. Nick. Others working as elves in Santa’s workshop or loading his sleigh. A Rudolph squirrel stood impatiently with the other reindeer squirrels while excited squirrel children waited by fireplaces in little squirrel pajamas. There were squirrels reenacting the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life and others ice skating beneath a Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.
Someone had put a Ghost of Christmas Future outfit on a particularly grim squirrel, complete with chains and a sickle.
A tall, thin woman in thick-rimmed glasses appeared from the back, blinking in surprise when she saw them. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. Two for dinner?”
If Lana had run screaming, Rick would have understood. But instead of cringing, his date turned sweetly to the hostess.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Sit wherever you want. We’re empty tonight.”
The hostess handed Rick two menus and promptly disappeared into the back once more. “Carl, we have a two-top,” the hostess yelled, loud enough that they both started.
“Well, I prefer to sit by the window,” Lana said cheerfully as they headed to a table on the far side of the empty dining room.
Rick raised an eyebrow. “Next to Santa’s sleigh?”
“It seems festive.” Festive was one way of putting it. “Have you eaten here before?”
“Do you think I would have dragged you all the way here if I had?” Rick pulled her seat out for her as per card twelve’s recommendation.
“I might question your sense of humor,” she said with a teasing smile.
If she was horrified, she was hiding it well. Now was the time to own up to his mistake or to flat out lie. Rick wasn’t a liar, even when his pride was on the line, so he groaned softly.
“Hey, Lana? You know when you take a beautiful woman out to dinner and you keep driving past all the places because they don’t seem good enough and end up in the worst possible place by accident? It’s something like that.”
The grin she flashed him was full of mischief. “You mean you don’t normally go full squirrel on your first dates?”
“I keep wishing I was back in the resort buying you a steak, but it just isn’t happening.”
“Don’t worry,” Lana reassured him. “I’ve been to every kind of dining experience under the sun. You get points for being original.”
Rick chuckled, resting his arms on the table. “I bet double-dating with Zoey and Graham is sounding better by the minute.”
Lana exhaled a soft laugh. “Trust me, unless they serve squirrel, this is far superior.”
A man appeared from the back, stumping up to their table with two glasses of water in his hands. Early thirties, partially balding, with a pockmarked face and a lingering scent of something sketchy clinging to his clothes, their server did not inspire Rick’s faith that this experience was about to get better.
“I’m Carl,” he grunted at them. “Ma’s in the back. We’re down a cook tonight.” Carl pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, then he read off of it in a bored voice. “Our special is the sausage plate, and we have a stroganoff.”
“What kind of stroganoff?” Rick asked. In this place, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“I don’t know. It’s stroganoff.”
Carl stared at Rick. Rick