Page 116 of Mistletoe All the Way

I got a shot of Eloise handing a blanket to the sheriff and his fiancée, an eagle-eyed woman who wore a Santa hat and told Eloise during the ride that the Pisces in her could tell that she and I would make a great match.

Eloise snapped plenty of pictures of her own, too, of the horses, of Sal, of a tree with glittering snow on its branches.

And of me.

She can’t seem to stop taking those shots. Maybe she’ll look at them when I’m gone.

My thoughts darken along with the sky as twilight descends. Time to close up for the day. I guide Pepper back to her stall, where Priya’s filling her water trough.

“Our girl always gets thirsty after a ride,” she says, then adds, “Did you get some good pics of the horses?”

“I think so,” I reply.

“Well, if they don’t work out, let me know. I took some the other day too.”

The hair on my neck stands on end.

Why would she take pictures of the horses? Is she working with Stephen? Is she going to take over with my cousin? “You did?”

“Someone has to do marketing for the farm when your grandfather retires. June’s not going to look after it from San Diego. She can’t stand doing it from here.”

Priya shakes her head, perhaps amused at the prospect of my grams doing social.

But I’m left with more questions—was the reason for Stephen’s horse photos as simple as Priya’s reasons? As Eloise’s? Marketing? Have I been wasting my time on a wild-goose chase after my cousin?

I steal a glance over at Eloise, several feet away, putting the harness away in the tack room.

No. Of course the time wasn’t a waste. It brought me closer to Eloise. It reconnected me to my family here. And I helped Gramps during his busiest time of the year.

Maybe the answer is—it doesn’t matter what my cousin’s up to. What matters is what I can do for the man who’s always looked out for me.

When it’s time to leave, I find Gramps in the house, stirring some butternut squash orzo. “Smells good.”

“Gotta keep my woman happy.”

“That’s right. You’d better,” Grams calls out from the living room.

I clear my throat, tip my forehead to the barn, and tell him about the rides today. “I even said Merry Christmas to all of them,” I add with a wry semi-grin.

“How did your cold, black heart handle that?”

I clutch my chest. “It hurt but I survived.”

“Glad to hear.” He sets down the wooden spoon, then glances at his knee. “Thanks again, Noah. Appreciate you spending the day here, so I didn’t have to do those rides.”

Briefly I wonder if that compliment means he’s decided that I’m the one. If my efforts prove I’m good enough at spreading holiday cheer. I mean, I said Merry Christmas to everyone. That has to count for something.

But when he adds, “Can’t wait for Christmas Eve,” I’m pretty sure he hasn’t made his choice.

If he’d picked a front-runner, he’d cancel the pitches on the night before Christmas. That’s not his style, to jerk someone around.

As I say good night to him, I think, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst if he picks Stephen. Priya’s here in Evergreen Falls. Eloise is too. So’s my brother. Maybe they’re all just doing the same thing—the photos and the social and the agony.

Maybe everything will be okay.

As the stars twinkle in the inky sky, we take Rusty for a walk back near Eloise’s place, where she displays her prowess with a snowball. She nails me square in the chest from the other side of the town square, even in the dark.

I rub my sternum. “How did you learn that?”