Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Really?”
“Oh, come on,” she says, exasperated. “It’s festive. Besides, it’s just eggnog, not some deadly poison.”
“Same difference,” I mutter, but I take a tentative sip. The thick sweetness coats my tongue, and I can’t help but cringe. She watches me, her eyes gleaming with barely-contained laughter.
“There you go!” She claps, the sound a little too loud in the confined space. “One down, a few more to go.”
I hand the thermos back, my jaw tight. “What’s next, then?”
“Don’t worry, you’ll find out.” She grins, tapping her fingers on the dashboard like she’s counting the minutes. “Now, point this old truck to town. I’ve got a date with Christmas spirit.”
I chuckle, doing just what she asked. As we drive through Copper Mountain, the snowy landscape giving way to the lights and sounds of the Christmas Festival, I can feel her excitement radiating off her. People in town are wrapped in scarves and coats, bustling around from booth to booth, and there’s this energy in the air that I can’t completely ignore. It’s like I’ve been dropped into some kind of holiday movie scene, and all I want to do is roll my eyes and get out of here. But with Ivy next to me, I don’t mind it nearly as much as I should.
She nudges me again as we park. “Time for dare number two.”
“And what’s that?”
She pulls a red Santa hat out of her bag and dangles it in front of my face like a piece of bait. “Put this on.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope. Santa hat or bust.” She’s relentless, her eyes challenging me, daring me to back out. And damn it if I don’t take the bait.
With a heavy sigh, I grab the hat and pull it over my head, feeling ridiculous. “Happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” she replies, and I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on me a second longer than they should. “You look adorable.”
“I don’t do adorable,” I grumble, adjusting the hat as it slides over my eyes.
“Today, you do.” She winks, then grabs my hand, pulling me toward the booths and lights without giving me a chance to protest.
We weave through the crowd, her energy infectious despite my best attempts to stay stoic. Kids are running around with candy canes, couples are holding hands, and everywhere I look, there’s tinsel, lights, and decorations. Ivy keeps tugging me along, stopping only when we reach a small stage area where a woman with a clipboard is waving her over.
“Oh, Ivy! Thank you so much for volunteering!” the woman says, her eyes darting to me, surprise crossing her face. “And who’s this? Our new Santa?”
I glare at Ivy. “Volunteering?”
She grins, looking like the cat that caught the canary. “Surprise. It’s the kids’ gift exchange, and we need someone to play Santa.”
“Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head. “You never said anything about this.”
“Oh, but it’s perfect,” she insists, her hand on my arm, squeezing just enough to make it hard to pull away. “You’ve already got the hat. And look at these kids—they need someone to make their night.”
I glance at the kids, their hopeful faces turning toward us, and I feel a twist in my gut. Damn her and her Christmas spirit.
“I’m not doing this,” I mutter, but even as I say it, I know I’ve lost. There’s no way I’m backing out now, not with her looking at me like that and the kids practically chanting for Santa. “This is why you were comin’ up my mountain–to sweet talk me into your Santa job?”
“Mr. Frye came down with a cold and can’t do it–you’ve got a better beard for the job, anyway. I even brought a can of spray snow to give you that Santa-look.”
“No way,” I growl.
“Oh, come on, Cole.” She leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper that only I can hear. “Do this, and I might consider putting you on my Nice List.”
My jaw clenches, every muscle in my body resisting her charm and failing. With a heavy sigh, I reach for the Santa coat the woman with the clipboard hands me and grumble, “You owe me for this.”
Ivy beams, a satisfied smile on her face. I shrug the coat on, pull on the pair of giant red pants over my dark jeans, and then wait patiently as Ivy takes a spray can of white shit and covers my beard with it. When I take my place in front of the small crowd of kids, they stare up at me, wide-eyed and awestruck, and for a second, I almost forget how ridiculous I feel. Almost.
“Ho, ho, ho,” I manage, deadpan, but the kids don’t seem to care. They rush forward, holding out their lists and gifts, babbling about what they want for Christmas. Ivy watches from the sidelines, grinning like she’s orchestrated the greatest prank of all time.