Page 8 of My Santa Mountain Man
I could go stay with Violet for a few months and wait out the worst of the winter weather, then try again next spring.
It would probably be for the best.
Everything ached as I sat up. I hadn’t been that high on the ladder, but I’d been high enough to get the wind knocked out of my lungs. And I had a feeling I’d be sporting a few new bruises come tomorrow.
But because of what Corbin said, I wouldn’t give up. I couldn’t stand the idea of proving him right.
Since our first introduction, I’d only seen the man three more times.
And he hadn’t talked to me again.
Or slowed his truck down.
Or evenwavedas he went by.
His eyes were always fixed straight ahead as he drove by, as though I didn’t exist.
Somehow, that was worse. I’d rather have him puffing out his chest and acting like the big man, rather than pretending I didn’t exist.
But even though I was crying right now. It wasn’t because of Corbin. It was because I was afraid I might have bitten off more than I could chew with this farmhouse.
I wiped away my tears and put the ladder back in place. “I’m going to get you, wood. You’re mine. You just behave this time. Okay?” I told the piece of lumber as I hammered it in place.
It had taken me a little while, but I’d finally found out where the raccoon was sneaking in. This board was going to stop his nightly visits to my cozy kitchen.
Chapter 6
Corbin
Christmas was not my holiday.
Then again, neither was Halloween.
Or Easter.
Or Fourth of July.
I wasn’t a holiday kind of guy.
There was no one in my life to get merry with, so I didn’t bother with that shit.
The extent of my holiday activities was buying a handful of extra turkeys and delivering them to the families that needed them most on this mountain.
Which is why I was bumping along the gravel road in my truck, trying to keep Hopkins from exploring what was in the backseat.
The weather was getting bad, but I didn’t want to skip out on this. I had no idea what the road conditions would be like tomorrow, but I had a feeling it was going to be a snowed-in Christmas for alotof people on Red Oak Mountain.
“Well, ain’t that some shit,” I muttered as I rounded the last bend in the driveway.
Poppy’s house drifted into view, and it was covered in Christmas lights.
She must have spent half a day putting those up.
I craned my neck as I drove by, staring at it.
It almost reminded me of when I was young.
She’d even wrapped the front porch posts the way my dad used to. The place looked… homey.
