Page 90 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Some people might,” I say as I glance out toward the lights. “So”—I clear my throat—“are there any other activities you take part in during the holiday season?” I ask as I hold the cup of hot cocoa with both hands, keeping my fingers warm.
“I like going to the Christmas Kringle competitions. I think those are fun. We do ice-skating out on the farm, so when I’m not working, I like to take a few laps around. Breakfast with Santa is enjoyable, because I like seeing Bob in his element. He really is one of the best people. The way he speaks with the children and asks for their names before they sit down so he can play the part. I don’t sit down to eat, but I volunteer.”
He volunteers? God, is there anything else that he might want to tell me to really dig the dagger of guilt into my heart?
“There are some snow castles I like to go look at up in Breckenridge. Have you seen them before?”
“Oh my gosh, yes. We went a few years ago. They were amazing.”
“My mom and I have gone a few times. One year, we were able to drag Cole along with us, which was surprising. He was fascinated by how they were engineered. Even got a picture of him examining them.”
I chuckle. “I could see that. He seems like the kind of guy—oh hey, is that Cole and Storee over there, hanging an ornament on the tree?”
Atlas looks out toward the tree, and I catch the smile that tugs on his lips. “It is. Surprised that Cole is participating.”
“Let me guess, not something he used to do before Storee?”
He shakes his head. “No, he thought it was stupid and childish. Though he was in a very dark place for ten years, so I’ll give him a break. Glad to see him finally starting to live again. It’s great seeing him as a father, as a husband. Seeing him smile and laugh again. It was something I missed. That night when he lost his parents, the light vanished from his eyes. Storee and the girls have slowly brought it back.”
“It’s sweet, seeing the way you care for him.”
“Truly, the brother I always wish I had,” he says.
And that speaks volumes.
Chapter Sixteen
Max
Narrator: The snow is crisp, magic is in the air, and Max spent the night scoping out every single sprig of mistletoe that he could find so he could spend a little more time tasting Betty.
Granted, this started with his desire to save the farm, and he swore up and down about not having any intimate interest in her, but I think we all knew where this was headed. Because despite her intentions for being in Kringle, he sees something else in her. And the more time he spends with her, the more he’s starting to realize just how much he could like her.
“Crunch Tator for you, Crunch Tator for me,” Storee says as she takes a seat in the clubhouse and then hands me another juice box. “Shall we start this meeting with our secret handshake?”
“I think we shall,” I say as I steeple my hands together, making a Christmas tree shape.
Storee bombs the tree with her fist, and then we open up our Crunch Tators.
“How much time do you have?”
“Like five minutes,” she answers. “Cole was wondering why the hell I had to go see Aunt Cindy on Cupid Christmas Night. I told him to warm up the pineapple candy cane and I’d be right back.”
“Eck, gross.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it, Atlas,” she says while popping a chip in her mouth. “So how did it go?”
I can’t hold back my smile. “We kissed three times.”
“What?” Storee whisper-shouts. She turns to me and pushes at my shoulder. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“I know. It just happened. Mistletoe really worked, and then we hung an ornament on the tree together, stared up at the stars. It was... it was nice.”
Storee slowly nods and then points her chip-coated finger at my mouth. “You’re smiling. What happened to ‘I don’t like her, and this is all to save the farm’? That smile and the hearts in your eyes you have whenever she’s around suggest something different.”
I set my bag down and turn toward Storee as well. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Storee. I shouldn’t like her. She’s trying to take out the farm, and she has all the ways to do it, but for some reason, when I look at her, I don’t see that person. I see someone else. I see someone who is looking for a fresh start. Someone looking to set down some roots. Someone looking for joy. She doesn’t seem like she has a vindictive bone in her body. You know?”
“I get the same feeling from her. And I don’t know. I feel bad deceiving her, because I really like her. She’s sweet and funny, and I could see us being good friends.”
