Page 8 of Christmas at Wolf Creek
I plaster on a smile as he bustles into the kitchen, already unwinding his scarf. Frank Henderson is a good boss—kind, fair, passionate about baking—but subtle, he is not.
“Helen told me about the competition,” I say before he can launch into his pitch. “It’s... ambitious.”
“Ambitious is exactly what we need to be!” Frank claps his hands together. “Maggie’s Diner has won three years running with their tacky Santa’s workshop display. This year, we dethrone them with the most spectacular gingerbread village Pinecrest has ever seen!”
His enthusiasm is infectious, despite my reservations. “I’m just not sure I can commit to the extra hours, Frank. I have Nora to consider.”
Frank’s expression softens. “Bring the little one along. Make it a family affair. Christmas is about family, after all.”
Family. The word catches in my chest again. Christmas with family—not just Nora and me in our quiet cottage, but Kane, Declan, Kat, Connor, all of them. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.
“I’ll figure something out,” I promise. “Now, what’s first on today’s baking list?”
As I fall into the familiar rhythm of measuring, mixing, and kneading, my mind keeps circling back to Christmas. For years, I’ve kept our celebrations small and private—a tiny tree in our cottage, simple gifts for Nora, cookies and hot chocolate by the fire. The idea of a MacGallan family Christmas, with all its potential chaos and joy, is both appealing and overwhelming.
Kane shows up to get Nora off to school, just in time for the morning rush, and I’ve made peace with the gingerbread village project. Perhaps it’s time to stop hiding quite so thoroughly. Nora deserves to experience the magic of a small-town Christmas, with all its lights and community spirit.
The day passes in a blur of customers and pastries. When I finally take my lunch break around one, I step outside for some fresh air and check my phone. There’s a text from Kane with a photo attached—Nora at the bus stop this morning, giving a thumbs-up, her backpack nearly as big as she is.
“Mission accomplished,” his text reads. “The princess is safely delivered to her royal education establishment.”
I smile and type a quick thank-you. It’s strange having someone to share these small parenting moments with —weird, but nice. Kane has taken to his uncle role with surprising enthusiasm, as have the others in their own ways. Declan helps with her math homework, Kat braids her hair in elaborate styles, and Connor has been teaching her card tricks that Ipretend not to know are basically cheating methods.
As I’m about to pocket my phone, it buzzes with another text—this one from an unknown number.
“Fence needs work on the north side. Your cattle are getting through. - J”
I stare at the message, puzzled, before realizing it must be from Jake Brennan. How he got my number is a mystery, until I remember the note I had left on his door one day when Scout had wandered off, asking him to call me if he saw him. Luckily, he found his way home. I quickly save his contact and type a response.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll have someone check it this week.”
His reply comes almost immediately:“Sooner is better. Unless you want to buy back your cattle from me.”
I sigh, texting Kane to ask if he can look at the fence today. His response is immediate—a thumbs up emoji followed by“On it. I need the exercise.”
With that handled, I head back inside to face the afternoon rush, pushing thoughts of Christmas, family, and grumpy neighbors to the back of my mind. But as I pipe frosting onto cupcakes, I find myself wondering what Jake Brennan does for Christmas. If he spends it alone on that ranch, or if he has family somewhere who breaks through his gruff exterior.
Not that it matters. He’s just a neighbor, and barely even that. Just a man who happens to share a fence line with us, who reluctantly gave my daughter beefjerky on Halloween, who texted about cattle instead of coming over in person.
Just an attractive neighbor. Nothing more.
Chapter 5
Wren
“I’m dying of boredom,” Kat groans, flinging herself dramatically onto the couch beside me. “Literally dying. Someone needs to check my pulse.”
I look up from my laptop, where I’ve been mindlessly playing The Sims. Since Declan, Connor, and Rory had to head back to Toronto three days ago to deal with an emergency at the estate, the lodgehas been eerily quiet.
“You could try reading a book,” I suggest, earning myself an eye roll.
“I’ve read three already this week,” she counters. “And I’ve reorganized my closet, learned two TikTok dances, and beat Kane at poker twice.”
“Impressive résumé,” I smirk, closing my laptop. Truth be told, I’m going a bit stir-crazy myself. The mountains are beautiful, but there’s only so much scenic gazing a person can do.
Mia wanders in from the kitchen, cradling a mug of tea. “I heard complaints. What’s happening?”
“Kat’s bored,” I explain. “And honestly, same.”