One Tough Christmas Cookie - Lucy McConnell Page 0,8
best. At some point in the next couple hours, she was going to get tired and then emotional, and then she’d fall to pieces over what was and what could have been and what might never be. She didn’t need an audience to the crazy show.
When Caleb lifted his gaze, his eyes blazed blue—like the hottest part of a flame. Their intensity sucked the oxygen right out of the room, and she gasped. Pushing his hat on his head, he strode over to the chair under the window, sat down, and kicked his long legs out in front of him.
“What are you doing?” she asked in a panic.
“Like I said, we need Dunder. Which means we need a vet. I’m not leaving here. If you won’t come, I’ll wait for Doc.”
She sputtered. “Of all the stubborn and ridiculous statements. He’s having heart surgery.” She threw her arm toward the door. “He won’t be going outside for weeks.”
He laced his fingers together over his stomach and settled in. “Then I guess I’m going to have to settle for you.”
She walked over and poked him in the chest. He smelled of dried grass and cologne, like he’d just finished feeding the animals and still smelled clean. Mm-mm. Up close, there was a hint of honey in his beard. She clenched her teeth. “Let’s get one thing straight. No one’s ever settled for me. I’m darn good at what I do, and there’s not a vet in the state that can match me for large animal diagnoses.” Not even her dad. While he’d been knee deep in reindeer poop, she’d broadened her practice and had quite the referral list.
Caleb grabbed her hand to keep her from poking him again. She gasped as an electrical jolt went through her system. Touching him wasn’t the smartest idea. “I’m not leaving without you,” he growled.
She yanked her hand free. “Get comfortable, then. Because I’m not leaving until I know Dad’s out of the woods.”
“Fine.” He pulled his hat down over his eyes and went still. As if anyone could fall asleep that fast.
“Fine.” She huffed, folded her arms, and landed in the seat next to him. A second later, she grabbed the armrests and scooted—putting a good twelve inches between them. Better.
She glanced over to make sure he couldn’t see her from under his hat and then fell against the seat, letting it hold her up because her strength was gone. She hadn’t thought this night could get any worse, but having to share the room with a grumpy, though easy-on-the-eyes cowboy tipped the scales.
With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the books on her Kindle app. Nothing grabbed her attention enough to keep her from thinking about the past. What she did remember of her life before the divorce was sparse but good. It wasn’t like her parents had argued a lot. It was more like things had been always quiet and sometimes lonely.
She used to sit on the couch and stare out the front window, hoping to see Dad’s headlights before Mom would sigh heavily and scoop her into her arms to tuck her in bed. Dad told bedtime stories about magical reindeer, Santa, and elves while Mom would kiss her forehead and then lock herself in her room. One night, Faith heard her crying. She never got out of bed again.
Restless and needing answers, she finally put her phone down and kicked Caleb’s boots. “What’s so special about these reindeer, anyway?”
He used one finger to push his hat up. Considering her, he asked, “Doc ever tell you about them?”
“All the bleeping time.” She huffed. “I probably know more about them than you do.” Dad had been over the moon when she’d gone into veterinary school—probably thinking she would join him in Sleigh Bell Country. He’d even paid the hefty tuition for her and kept her out of student loan debt. She didn’t mind taking his money, though she suspected it was his way of easing his own guilt for not being the father she needed.
He’d called once a month while she’d been in school to talk about the herd and ask her opinion on their care. He’d always wanted to know what they taught her—the latest findings and studies—bringing the conversation back to the reindeer before their time was up.
If he was upset that she didn’t join his practice, he’d never said so. Another point in his favor. The possible end-of-life situation started a tally sheet in her head.