Page 21 of Run, Run Rudolph
“And the elf is on Mrs. Claus’s side?” I hazarded.
I got a nod.
“I see. And he’ll tattle on you, and that’ll make the fight worse somehow?”
Another nod.
“But it’s not like Santa can ground you for sneaking out—it’s almost Christmas Eve. Doesn’t Christmas have to go on, no matter what?”
The reindeer shared looks. A few of them pawed the ground.
“Wait. Is something else wrong with Christmas?”
My stomach dropped as I caught their expressions. But before anyone could answer, cold air hit the back of my neck, and I turned to see the barn door had opened. My veterinarian acquaintance-almost-once-a-friend, all tall, dark and handsome with melting snowflakes twinkling in his wavy hair, was watching me curiously.
Crazy animal loving lady. Yup. That was me. Talking to a herd of reindeer in her barn about Christmas.
I turned back to the reindeer, my cheeks heated. Haden had to think I was an absolute loon. I tried to think up some brilliant reason as to why I suddenly had eight talking reindeer in my barn.
But the barn was empty.
“Hey,” Haden said, taking me in with that patient, assessing way of his as he came deeper into the barn, a hefty medical bag in hand. He had the kind of gaze that made you feel thoroughly seen from the bit of toothpaste you missed at the corner of your mouth, down to the fact that you flushed a tampon into your septic system—which was a huge no-no.
But sometimes, secretly, it also made me feel like I was okay because, even though he probably saw all of my flaws, he didn’t cross the street if he saw me coming. Sure, we avoided each other, but nothing that would hit the obvious-about-it scale. Occasionally, he smiled, as if reading my less savoury thoughts about someone and finding them amusing.
And did I mention he was a good listener? Whereas most women wanted men to be better at listening to them—like I had been with Kade—with Haden, I wanted to put stoppers in his ears. It felt like he caught everything. And right now, he’d just caught me talking to a herd of reindeer about Christmas being in trouble.
Not that the reindeer were making themselves visible. Which meant, I’d simply looked as though I was losing my mind.
“I got your message, Trademark,” he said, and I refrained from rolling my eyes at the nickname. My initials were T.M.—Tamara Madden—and so, of course, he called me Trademark. As far as I knew, he hadn’t given anyone else a nickname, so I wasn’t sure if I was special, or just that annoying to him. I was fairly certain it was the latter, as Kade had explained when I was seventeen, that I was a bother to Haden, but he was too polite to tell me so. I’d been mortified and had essentially avoided Haden ever since. I’d thought he’d enjoyed showing me the things he was learning in veterinarian school, and it had felt like we were having some really nice moments, connecting as future siblings-in-law.
Apparently not. On all accounts.
“I was just down the road,” he said, his voice that calm deep pool of comfort that soothed animals and their worried humans. “Thought I’d pop by on my way home.” He bent slightly, brushing the snow from his hair with crooked fingers.
“Great. Thanks,” I said, my voice too high and cheery. I couldn’t see a single reindeer, and wondered if they’d done some sort of spell to make themselves invisible to me, as well as Haden. “He’s over here.”
“You brought him in here?” the vet confirmed, his tone careful. Even though it was chilly in the barn, he unzipped his thick winter work coat, exposing a softly worn red-and-green check flannel shirt buttoned up over a white tee.
Oh, and those hands. I remember watching them deftly and confidently show me how to reshoe a horse. They were strong and capable. The kind of hands that could hold someone firmly, that could tickle, or stroke or protect.
I cleared my throat, trying to focus on our conversation, wondering why I was swooning over the man’s hands. That wasn’t like me. I’d chased away my childish semblance of a crush years ago.
“He was in the middle of the road.” I began moving toward the stall, eager to get Haden out of here. Because as much as I’d love a friendly face at my side during this crisis, his wasn’t it. “I’m sure you want to check him out and get to other emergencies before this blizzard gets worse.”
“You should never approach wildlife, especially if they’re hurt. It’s not safe.” His tone was firm, and the usual tension that vibrated between us like a tight cord returned. “And never move an injured animal of this size on your own. They can be unpredictable.”
A flash of resentment milked my anger over how I cared about his opinion of me.
“He was in the middle of the road in a snowstorm,” I snapped, my hands landing instinctively on my hips as I turned to face Haden. “What was I supposed to do? Leave him there for somebody to run over?”
I heard a soft “yeah” of agreement from behind me, followed by a hiccup. Blitzen. I casually scanned the barn, but saw nobody.
Then a flicking tail. They were hiding in the space just past the last stall, which was Rudolph’s. I could see them, but could Haden?
The man in question was silent for a long moment, his jaw flexing as he studied me. He was no doubt holding back the lecture sitting on the tip of his tongue, ready for stupid, well-meaning citizens such as myself. There was a flash of impatience in his dark gaze, and he suddenly looked tired.
“Can I see him, Ms. Florence Nightingale?”
