One Tough Christmas Cookie - Lucy McConnell Page 0,42

if she hated that line or if she even knew it existed.

She set down the glasses and began wrapping Rudy’s eyes and face with cotton pads and gauze. It was hard work—the reindeer wasn’t light—and a line of perspiration appeared at her temple.

Caleb longed to wipe it away for her, but she’d been skittish all afternoon, keeping distance between the two of them. He didn’t want to get in her way or make her more nervous about the surgery, so he’d stepped back and hadn’t flirted with her. Hopefully, once the surgery was over, she’d calm down a little and they’d be able to enjoy each other’s company. If not, it was going to be a long 48 hours.

“There,” Faith whispered. They’d both taken to talking softly as Rudy fell asleep. Faith pushed aside the tray of supplies and changed the drip on Rudy’s IV. “He should wake up soon. Maybe you should be up here so he can smell you and doesn’t panic.”

Caleb rounded the table, bringing him next to Faith. She smelled of cinnamon, and home, again. He mentally shook himself. Keep it together.

“Talk to him,” Faith encouraged. “He likes you.” She smiled under her mask, and her eyes crinkled.

He leaned his forearms on the operating table and spoke to Rudy. “Hey, buddy. You in there? Surgery went well—” He glanced up at Faith for confirmation. She met his eyes, and his whole body zinged.

“I’ll tell you more when he’s all settled.” She jerked her head to the large kennel he’d brought. Inside was fresh hay and a plaid blanket Mom insisted Rudy would want to sleep on. The whole family waited on pins and needles to hear how surgery went. It was as tense around the place as foaling season.

“Rudy?” he whispered. “Come on, dude. Can you twitch a leg or something?” With the animal’s eyes covered, there was no way to know if he was waking up. “Rudy.”

Rudy’s red nose twitched, and he let out a sad groan sounding like a drunk who was dealing with a New Year’s hangover.

Faith was at Caleb’s elbow before he could call for her. She ran her hand over Rudy’s head and then took his temperature. “His vitals are good. He probably wants to be more comfortable. It’s a reindeer’s nature to try and stand. Do you think you can carry him to the kennel?”

Caleb glanced down at his arm and flexed. Faith rolled her eyes and muttered under her mask. He grinned, thankful she was more open to teasing now.

They began unlatching the straps. Faith looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and Caleb nudged her with his elbow. Her eyes crinkled again, and he reached over to brush a stray piece of hair off her forehead. She’d pulled it all back into a bun at the base of her neck, but some of it rebelled.

She turned toward him, her hands stilling and her intensity increasing. He felt it, felt the moment that she’d locked on him, and he wanted to hold on to that moment forever. Being the only thing in her whole world was an amazing feeling. His mouth went dry and his hands moistened while his heart triple-stepped. The only other time he’d ever felt like this was when he was flying a sleigh.

Something brown moved in his periphery, and his brain clicked on. Rudy was floating—flying?—above the table. Caleb grabbed Faith’s upper arms and turned her back to the reindeer. She gasped, splaying her hands on his chest.

He gulped. He couldn’t breathe with Faith pressed against his chest—even if it was his arms holding her there. Looking at Rudy was out of the question if he wanted to keep Faith from seeing the reindeer hovering over the table like a magician’s assistant—without the white sheet that hid the wires.

“Caleb?” she asked.

“How do women do that?” he marveled.

“Do what?”

“Ask a thousand questions with one word.”

Rudy rolled over to his other side. Nutcrackers! Caleb pressed his forehead against Faith’s. He wanted to be in this moment. He wanted to lose himself in a kiss with this beautiful woman. But the darn reindeer was floating off the table. Of all the rotten luck.

Faith giggled, oblivious to what was happening right behind her. “It’s a gift.”

“Yes, it is.” He closed his eyes. “Faith—do you trust me?”

“Wh-what? I mean, why would you ask that?”

He forced himself to look into her eyes, to see the fear and the worry his question brought to the surface, because seeing that