Page 1 of Blame it on the Mistletoe
Chapter One
Not much got past Noah Tucker. So he was a little embarrassed to admit that Christmas had completely snuck up on him. In fact, if a tinsel bomb hadn’t erupted overhead, causing him to reach for his off-duty weapon, Christmas would have gone completely unnoticed.
Because this year, Christmas was definitely female and sporting a pair of legs that—even though they were encased in green-and-white striped tights—made him wonder if holiday miracles really did exist.
Home for the holidayswas something Noah and his brothers avoided at all costs, which was why he’d waited until the cold had finally scared everyone indoors before taking a stroll through his hometown. But Santa’s Helper—late twenties, five-three, whisky brown eyes, and long blond tinsel-tangled hair—didn’t scare all that easily.
Nope, she was perched on a ladder, with enough twinkle lights to decorate every house from Sweet Plains to the North Pole, trying to place a snow angel atop the tree on the sheriff’s station lawn. Her elf-inspired ensemble wasn’t doing her any favors. Neither was the fact that she was a petite thing trying to decorate a monster of a tree all by her lonesome.
She’d donned a short, green velvet getup with a matching pointy hat and shoes, all trimmed in fur. It was like sexy collided with Christmas, making her the sexiest Elf on the Shelf he’d ever encountered.
“Son of a sleigh bell,” she mumbled as another shower of tinsel drifted to the ground, causing momentary whiteout conditions.
Back in Austin, Noah would have simply checked to ensure she was okay, then gone about his own business. But he wasn’t in Austin. He was in Sweet Plains, Texas, and for the next three weeks his business involved returning to the family ranch, Tucker’s Crossing—a place he’d spent a lifetime trying to escape—to help his brother, Cody, sort through the mess their vengeful old man had left behind.
Imagining what was to come, Noah decided to take a few additional moments of silence for himself before entering the storm.
He looked up and shielded his eyes from falling pine needles. “You need some help, Elf on the Shelf?”
“Holy Christmas!” she squeaked, nearly tumbling right off the ladder—her snow angel not faring so well in the kerfuffle.
Either, like him, she didn’t take kindly to being caught off guard or she didn’t like to admit when she needed help, because after she found her balance and righted her hat, she shot him a look angry enough to roast his chestnuts.
“Are you trying to kill me?” she accused in a hushed whisper.
“No, ma’am,” he drawled, rocking back on his heels. “Just being neighborly is all.”
“Well”—again with the hushed tone—“go be neighborly someplace else.” And, after a nervous glance around, she shooed him off with a mittened hand.
A cold chill blew off the distant rolling hills as Noah took in the twinkle-lined streets and garlanded storefronts of downtown. With not a single Who strolling through Whoville, Santa and his hooved brethren could make an emergency landing on Main Street, and no one would be the wiser. Then there was Miss Elf, the one soul brave enough to face the elements, back to stringing lights and ignoring him.
Most people would take one look at those wide doe eyes and velvet getup and assume the elf was simply spreading holiday cheer.
Noah wasn’t most people.
He was a Texas Ranger, trained to be suspicious. And it didn’t get more suspect than someone decorating the tree in front of the sheriff’s department after sundown, when the skies were threatening to rain down some serious trouble on Sweet County.
Whistling a Christmas tune, he strolled over to pick up the tree topper and shook fallen leaves from its hair. “What about your snow angel? Seems he’s lost a wing.”
“Must have been the result of testosterone-induced rage. It’s a growing problem in these parts.”
“Is that how you lost your wings, angel?”
“You should see the other guy.” That smart mouth of hers curled up into a wicked grin. “Now shoo.”
“Just as soon as you tell me if Logan’s aware that you’re out here spreading holiday spirit all over his sheriff’s station,” Noah said, referring to his old friend and the recently re-elected sheriff.
“Why is that any of your business?”
Noah couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t that Miss Elf didn’t scare easily. She didn’t scare at all.
“Santa’s helper or not, you’re trespassing.”
“Says you.”
Noah had been known to make even the most dangerous of criminals wet their pants with a single look. However, this woman was looking at him as if he were as harmless as a snowman in a Stetson. So he casually opened his jacket, sure to uncover his glimmering badge. “Says the great state of Texas.”
He could tell she wanted to argue, but his badge accomplished what he hadn’t been able to on his own—silence her. Only for a moment though.
