Behind us, my timer dings, telling me it’s time to cut the soap.

  “We’ve still got a soap to finish,” I tell him, effectively sidestepping any more talk about the farm and the future.

  I show Jake how to cut up the soaps, making an extra-cute wrapping for the bar for his mom. But all of the excitement from earlier has deflated out of me. Because now I’m more confused than ever about Jake Sheppard, and the week he gave me to move out is ticking closer and closer to its conclusion.

  Is he just enjoying all the Christmas vacation sex? Or does he actually care?

  It’s going to take a Christmas miracle for me to figure it out.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, I’ve got a book club meeting at Ginger’s Bake Shop. I get there early because I need a little time to myself away from the farm and Jake and just… everything. I need to be surrounded in the warm cocoon of pastries and hot chocolate, and possibly pick up some more emotional support cookies.

  Unfortunately, it looks like Ginger’s been cleaned out of cookies. Or, at least, her best cookies. She still has butterscotch left, and gingerbread, and rum and raisin, but they’re not my favorite, and it all feels like a bad omen.

  Still, I grab a hot chocolate to warm me up and even give in and buy a butterscotch cookie. After all, a subpar Ginger Winters cookie is still delicious. I also hand-deliver a soap order to one of the girls working the counter. The display that Ginger keeps of my soaps is down to the dregs. I dig in my bag for some more soaps that I brought and give them to the barista to restock.

  “Oh, my God, yes,” she says. “Thank you. I was nearly out of Snow in Love and it’s just not the holidays if you’re not bathing with peppermint soap, know what I mean?”

  It should make me happy, but instead, I just feel sad. What does it matter if my soaps are perfect and popular if I won’t have a place to make them?

  I need to stop letting these negative thoughts get to me. Maybe I can buy a new crystal to ward off the negativity. Or maybe if I’m really lucky, there’s a crystal that turns a grumpy, golf course-wanting lawyer into a happy goat farmer. I mean, he’s halfway there already with the flannel, right?

  Just thinking those thoughts makes me annoyed, though. Why am I not more mad at Jake? Why am I sitting here thinking that, even if I have to leave, it won’t be the worst part? That the worst part will be that I won’t see Jake anymore?

  God, I’m gross.

  When Lexi shows up I fill her in on the gossip Jake told me about seeing Maggie at Ryan’s. And when Maggie breezes in a few minutes later, she’s on cloud nine.

  “Y’all, he’s like a real-life Hallmark movie,” she gushes as she plops down in front of us. “We are so in love!”

  I glance at Lexi. We both know that it certainly isn’t love that’s keeping Ryan Sheppard involved. Not when he’s about to dump Maggie’s ass and head straight back to Chicago.

  “What?” Maggie asks. “Did something happen to Linus or something?”

  I play with the ends of my braided hair, buying time. “No, nothing happened to Linus.”

  “Then why do you two look like I just told you that Santa fell out of his sleigh while he was over the Atlantic?”

  Lexi laughs. “Leave it to you to make the most bizarre Christmas metaphor.”

  “I’m serious,” Maggie says. “What’s up? I just told you both that I’m madly in love, and you look like you swallowed crappy eggnog.”

  “All eggnog is crappy,” Lexi objects. “You dairy fiends.” She even fakes a gag to make her point.

  I appreciate that Lexi’s trying to distract us all with a joke. But I feel sorta sick. Because it’s not just Maggie who’s being led on. I mean, Ryan’s got her thinking she’s in love. Who’s to say Jake isn’t tricking me into thinking we could have something more than orgasms?

  Not that I think I’m in love with Jake. That’s silly. I love my goats. I love my business. But my archnemesis who’s trying to destroy my life while being ridiculously good in the sack? No, I’m not quite as Pollyanna as Maggie.

  But I do… like him.

  Love is about feeling totally at peace with someone, and trusting that you have shared goals for the future, such as growing old together while sitting in rocking chairs outside the Airstream.

  Which, yes, okay, Jake makes me feel safer and more at peace than anyone ever has. But he also pisses me off.

  So no, I’m not in love. And Maggie can’t possibly be either. Not really.

  “I know I talked a lot of shit about Ryan,” Maggie admits. “But it’s because I just misunderstood him and I was deflecting having feelings for him. He was having a hard time with his uncle passing and with Christmas and all of that… it was really my bad. He’s perfect, though, and we’re meant for each other.”

  Oh, Maggie. This is the cost of watching a billion Hallmark movies while reading a billion and one Christmas novels.

  I bite my lip, treading carefully. “Are you though, or is this just your fantasy about falling in love at Christmas talking?”

  I watch the hurt flash across Maggie’s face. Maggie’s dealt with her fair share of shit, and I know I’m delivering some hard truths. But maybe we all need some hard truths right now.

  Like me and Jake, for example. Of course we aren’t falling for each other. Ha ha. We’re holiday hate-fucking, which everyone knows is a thing. We’re enemies. On opposite sides. It’s just the indisputably erotic nature of snow and holiday lights at play here.

  “No, of course not,” Maggie says, shaking her head. “This is the real deal, guys. He’s forever material!”

  I glance at Lexi again. I’m waiting for her to step in and take the reins of the sleigh, so to speak, but clearly, she thinks this is my fruitcake to detonate.

  “Jake says Ryan’s headed back to Chicago as soon as the house is sold,” I finally say, even though honestly? I hate saying it. Maggie is a sweetheart and of course I want her to get her Holiday Ever After, but this is real life, not a Hallmark movie.

  Maggie laughs, clearly waiting for me to say, “Just kidding!” But I can’t tell her that. Because as much as I don’t want to see my friend hurt, I refuse to lie to her.

  “Nope, no way,” Maggie says, shaking her head. “Sorry, Sutton, but you’re wrong on this one. You should see him. He’s really getting into doing work around the… wait. Jake? What’s going on with you and Jake? Are you banging Jake?”

  “Obviously.” I nod, waving the question away and trying to get her to focus on herself.

  “Oh, snap.” Lexi looks at me like I’ve been holding out on her. Which I have. I’ve been very busy banging Jake.

  “I thought you said Jake Sheppard was your archnemesis,” Maggie says, narrowing her eyes at me in suspicion.

  I sigh. I have got to get this sled back on track. “I just think you should be careful,” I tell Maggie. Because I care about her, and because it’s true.

  “Yeah, just be careful, Mags,” Lexi jumps in. I’m thankful for the support until she turns to me and says, “And Sutton? We are most definitely talking about Jake Sheppard next.”

  “Sure, Lexi,” I agree nonchalantly before slyly saying, “Say, how is your engagement to Carter Sheppard going?”

  “Fake engagement!” Lexi huffs. “You know it’s just a business deal.”

  “Right, right.” I nod, because I’m not buying any of it. “All so when you get fake-divorced you get custody of the dog? Are you getting dog support out of this deal too?”

  “Ohhh,” Maggie jumps in, clearly happy to move the focus to Lexi. “Good question.”

  “Lexi had the biggest crush on Carter back in high school,” I confide to Maggie, lowering my voice a little even though Lexi is sitting right here and can clearly hear me.

  Lexi groans and drops her forehead into her palm.

  I smile a little behind my mug. I’m updating my personal motto to ‘peace, love, goats and espionage.’ “She used to practice writing ‘Mrs Carter Sheppard’ all over the inside of her notebook during French class.”

  “I did not,” Lexi sputters, eyes wide.

  She so did.

  “The point of today’s discussion is Maggie,” Lexi reminds us, sitting up straight and doing her best to look librarian-stern.

  “Whatevs,” Maggie says. “Ryan told me to come over later because he wants to tell me something, and I think he’s probably going to ask me to spend Christmas with him.”

  I try to smile at her, even though I’m pretty sure that’s not why he asked her to come over. If anything, he might be initiating the “we’re over” conversation. Or worse, “we’re over, and can you watch my house for me while I skip back to the city?”

  “Maybe we should focus on the book,” I suggest, attempting a peace offering. There’s nothing Maggie loves more than dissecting a Christmas romance. Which is silly because they all end the same. Spoiler: they fall in love under the mistletoe/on a sled/in front of a roaring fire. The end.

  So that’s what we do. We spend the rest of the book club dissecting the book, but I’m distracted the whole time. When Lexi starts talking about how incredible the hero is, all I can think about is that Jake is better. And nothing in the book even compares to my nights—and mornings and days—with him.

  In fact, I’ve almost forgotten about my own dilemma when, close to the end of book club, Maggie gets a text that makes her frown.

  “Shit,” she says, and then she looks up at me. “Sutton, I’m so sorry.”

  Oh, no. Something tells me she’s not about to issue me a citation for not having Christmas bows on the goats. It’s not that I don’t try, the wily little creatures just keep destroying them.

  “Linda received another copy of Jake’s paperwork,” she says. “And I’m sorry, Sutton. I think we’ve slowed it down as much as we can. I think… I think he’s moving forward with that golf course.”

  Well, that dumps an avalanche of snow on my libido. What sort of a nutcracker would put a woman and her goats on the streets before Christmas? That’s some real ‘there’s no room at the inn’ energy, not that I have anything in common with Mary but the rickety barn.

  “Just proves my point, I guess,” I say, trying to sound lighter than I feel. “Sheppard boys are not to be trusted.”

  Chapter Ten

  Before I go home, I decide to take a slight detour. Everything at the bakery has me feeling very not merry, and when I’m not feeling good, it shows in my creativity. Which is my soaps. Which is what I need to focus on from now on, clearly. Because Jake Sheppard is bound to burn me.

  Still, does it really count as a burn if I knew what to expect? Is there anything really wrong with enjoying the chemistry we have and accepting that, once this week is over, we’ll each move on to our own lives?

  Because I’m not Maggie. I’m not blinded by the idea of a holiday romance. I can see clearly that I need to start figuring out my own path, and that starts with accepting the fact that Reindeer Falls Goat Farm as I know it might need to evolve.

  So I take a detour through Reindeer Falls. It’s December, so everyone’s got their lights up—I’m sure in part thanks to Maggie. As I drive my battered old truck down the streets, I’m overwhelmed by it all. Each yard looks beautifully decorated and charming, and with each house, I try to imagine the family that put those decorations up. Was it a house full of rowdy boys, each trying to one-up the other with the most outrageous yard display? Was it a newlywed couple, putting up their first lights? An older couple using the same wooden Frosty the Snowman they’ve been using for thirty years?

  Christmas might not be my number one holiday, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it. In moments like this, it’s hard to not appreciate the magic. Especially when the snow’s coming gently down, bathing everything in a little extra sparkle.

  I do a few loops around town, taking a different street every time. I’m on a mission for an alternate spot in case everything goes upside down in the next few days. But each spot that I find is too small or doesn’t have a shelter for the goats, or, more often, it’s already spoken for. I pass one of the farmers I know from the tack and feed store riding her horse around a wide grassy field, and looking at the property, I know something like this is way out of my budget. The farmer gives me a wave, and I wonder if I could convince her to board the goats for me. People board horses, right? Boarding goats could be a thing. I could move back in with my parents and pay rent somewhere for my goats.

  I sigh. There’s only one thing to do. Hope for the best and trust the universe. The future’s unclear, and that’s okay. That’s something I’ve always been cool with. I had no idea what I was doing when I picked up a stray goat on the side of the road. I had no idea what I was doing when I stumbled across Ariel and won her in a poker game. And the only plan I had when I parked Ariel at the abandoned barn was to stay until someone kicked me out.

  At least looking at all the holiday lights gives me an idea. I turn the truck around and head back to my farm. Mine, of course, for as long as Jake will let me have it. As I walk up to the Airstream, I’m immediately worried because I smell something.

  Burning.

  “What the—”

  Jake opens the door, and I find that Ariel’s full of smoke, and Jake’s borrowed my apron. He’s currently attempting to wave the smoke out of the Airstream, looking completely ridiculous as he does.

  “Are you trying to burn my house down?” I demand. “Because—”

  “No,” Jake says, coughing at the smoke. “I was trying to make cookies in your toaster oven.”

  I duck inside the Airstream, immediately turning on a desk fan that I have on the dashboard for moments like this one. Then, as the air clears, I find a baking sheet bearing roughly a dozen blackened circles.

  “I got desperate,” Jake explains, coming up behind me. “You ate all the cookies that were here.”

  “Duh,” I tell him. Like what else does one do with cookies?

  Jake grins, looking relieved that I’m not pissed at him for nearly burning down my Airstream.

  I pick up a burned disc and put it back down. “These can be a treat for the goats when we get home tonight.”

  “We? Home? Come again?” Jake stares at me, one brow arched in question.

  Yeah, I admit, there’s a lot to unpack in what I just said. And I didn’t mean to insinuate anything about us coming “home,” especially since it’s still up in the air whose home this actually is.

  “We’re going out,” I declare. “It’s Christmas time, and you’ve barely done any Christmas stuff.”

  “Sutton, I used to live in Reindeer Falls. I guarantee you, I’ve done all of the Christmas stuff.” Jake crosses his arms and leans against the counter, observing me like I’m up to something.

  “Not this year you haven’t,” I reply. “Besides, I’ve got a few holiday tricks up my sleeve that you don’t know about yet.”

  “Oh, I bet you do,” Jake drawls, eyeing me from head to toe, a sexy smirk spreading across his face.

  “Not that!” I swat him with a dishtowel, laughing. “I promise you, goat-caroling is both a hidden gem and the highlight of the Reindeer Falls Christmas season.”

  Jake blinks at me for a moment. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.” I pop the word teasingly, slowly shaking my head while I poke his hard chest with my finger.

  He grabs my hand, brings it to his mouth and kisses the inside of my wrist. “Are you sure goat-caroling isn’t code for seducing me in new and inventive ways?”

  I shiver, because the wrist kiss is a very effective distraction. But he’s not getting out of this, so I remove my hand from his grip and take a step backward, holding up a finger.

  “First step: bows on every horn,” I announce. “Second step: we load them up. In your car,” I add, just for fun.

  “Wait a minute,” Jake says, looking more horrified with every passing second. “We’re taking the goats caroling? In my car?”

  “Don’t be silly.” I shake my head, hands on hips. “Not all of them. I’m thinking Sharon, Farmer John, and Martha. They’re generally the best sports and have the best voices.”

  Jake stares me down, tapping a finger against his bottom lip while he thinks. I’m waiting for him to say ‘absolutely not.’ I’m waiting for him to call me crazy. I’m waiting for him to realize he’s in way over his head with me.

  Which is fine. He can run. He can prove that I’m right to be doubtful. Right to be putting my walls up.

  Except he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he shrugs and grins, pushing off the counter and stepping closer to me. “Whatever you say, Sutton,” he says, giving the end of my braid a tug. “Though I think it would be more comfortable for all of us if we take your truck.”

  And that’s it. With just two sentences, I’m right back to believing things I have no right believing.

  We manage to securely tie bows onto the goats’ collars, and Jake even manages to attach a few to their horns via some creative knotwork. Then we load them into my truck and head for downtown. I drive, and Jake points out the different spots that have changed—or, more often, the spots that haven’t.

  “Damn,” he says. “I remember that bar. Ryan, Carter, and I got shitfaced there when we came back for Thanksgiving the year after Carter turned twenty-one. You wouldn’t believe how dumb those two get when they’re drunk.”

  I laugh. “And you don’t get dumb?”

  “I can hold my liquor. Unlike those two.”

  “Ohh, are you secretly the responsible nerd amongst the three of you?”

  “Hmm, I like to consider myself the most logical. I have a hard time doing anything without ensuring I know how the next ten steps are going to play out. The consequence of being a lawyer, I guess. Never ask a witness a question you don’t already know the answer to, and all that.”

  “Yikes, how boring,” I say without thinking. “I love asking people crazy questions I have no idea how they’re going to answer.”

  Jake glances over at me, and our eyes meet briefly before I look back at the road.

 

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