Page 59 of Not Your Average Vixen
She spread it across the dash and tapped her finger on the crinkled paper. “Okay, take Mountain House Drive to Mistletoe Avenue, then turn right.”
“That’s the name?” he asked. “Mistletoe Avenue?”
This place really did milk the Christmas themes.
“Yeah! And look! There’s even a reindeer crossing sign on the map!” she said, pointing to, yep, a bright yellow reindeer crossing sign.
“Why don’t you roll down the window and get some fresh air,” he suggested.
She clapped her hands. “Good idea! We can find out what the town smells like.”
He glanced at her again. As the sun hung low in the sky, Bridget tilted her head and pointed her nose out the window, smelling the town like a golden retriever.
She was a relatively normal person a few hours ago. Was she still screwing with his head? Was this her baking persona? This flighty, head-in-the-clouds attitude? She’d gone toe to toe with him in the snarky banter department. He’d say something asinine, and she’d throw it right back at him. But this Bridget was not so much the vixen or the type A maid of honor. No, this Bridget was—
He caught a movement in his peripheral vision. “What are you doing now?”
She had her hand stretched in front of her face with her nose pressed to her palm.
“Hands do so many things, Soren,” she answered.
“Yeah, they’re your hands. They’re supposed to do things.”
“But so, so many things,” she replied, then ate another bite-sized gummy bear as a grizzly bear-sized realization hit him.
Oh shit! This was not good!
He turned onto Mistletoe Avenue. With shops donning Christmas wreaths and candy cane decorations, the place looked like a holiday movie set.
“Are we in Santa’s Village in the North Pole? This is just how I’d imagined it! Do you think we’re going to see a real Christmas fairy here?” Bridget trilled.
“No, we’re still in Kringle, Colorado,” he answered, trying to figure out what the hell to do as the sign for the Kringle Acres Retirement Community came into view. But when he went to turn into the parking area, two men, each with a white beard, raised their hands and signaled for them to stop.
He rolled down the driver’s side window. “What’s going on?”
“We’re moving the cats around,” a Santa lookalike replied as Soren did a double take.
Did he know this Santa?
Bridget leaned over to get a better look. “Kitty cats?”
Jesus! Not kitty cats again!
He gave the somewhat familiar man another look.
Could they have met?
No, there was no way he’d be acquainted with anyone in this damned place.
The other bearded man chuckled. “No, snowcats. You know, what you use to groom all that snow for the skiers on Kringle Mountain. The retired residents here take care of grooming the slopes and doing basic maintenance on the snowcats, right here, in the parking lot. We’re moving Rudolph to the front. He’s the snowcat with the big red light on top.”
“Rudolph is a big cantankerous cat,” Bridget exclaimed, then ate yet another gummy bear.
Soren pointed to her bag of candy. “Can I see that?”
She handed it over, and he leaned in and lowered his voice.
“I need you to act normal.”
