Page 12 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

I loved the holiday season, and the traditions I had with my family, and in particular, my grandma, who I called Oma.

She’d saved Christmas for me when I was thirteen and my parents had separated for a few weeks.

We started a lot of traditions that year, Oma and I.

In the end, I think some of them, along with the spirit of the season, were what brought my parents back together on Christmas Day.

That, for me, was what Christmas was about. Love. Hope. A second chance to get things right. Caring about each other. Time with family. There were so many things about the season I adored and held dear.

One of the traditions my Oma and I started that year was for us both to wear the same ugly Christmas sweater.

We used to rotate years, so she’d pick out something one year, and then I’d do it the next.

But after a particularly raunchy sweater the year I turned eighteen, I took over the task of finding us our seasonal sweaters.

I’d revealed them tonight at supper, and was still wearing mine.

I’d gone horse-themed with “Oh, what fun it is to ride” across the front with a horse and rider jumping a fence below it.

Oma wasn’t as into horses as I was, but she’d dutifully put on the sweater with a chuckle, like always.

That was my favourite tradition, beating out helping Oma bake for her cookie exchange, and maybe even her special, rich and creamy, Christmas rice dessert that she made just for me.

However, tonight, meeting the reindeer had made the season feel even more magical. The myths and stories were all real.

I patted the trunk’s lid and said to the elf, “I’ll be back out in a bit. Don’t go anywhere.”

A string of flavourful, Christmas themed insults rose from the car.

“Yeah, well, I hope you burn your Christmas baking, too,” I muttered, returning to the semi-warmth of the barn. I pushed Cupid away from Dolly as I passed him. “Leave her be.”

I aimed a finger at Dolly. “You’re old enough to know better.” She tossed her head back with a mighty snort of displeasure.

Standing in the middle of the barn, I commanded to the reindeer, “Gather around.”

The reindeer obediently shuffled closer, Blitzen giggling.

That guy seriously couldn’t hold his liquor.

Although, I had poured a couple of twenty-sixers in the cooler, and he’d drunk every last bit of those large bottles of liquor.

Plus, there was still whatever else in his system that he’d enjoyed during the stag party.

Maybe Comet’s little bag was full of booze. I’d have to find a way to ask about it later and make sure they weren’t taking nips here and there and making this boozy problem even worse.

“Why is the elf with you?” I gestured in the direction of the closed barn doors where my car was parked on the other side.

“He’s a narc,” Donner complained.

“Total buzzkill,” Blitzen added.

“Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“He’s a spy,” Dancer added in his Swedish accent.

“Okay, but why is he here ?” I asked.

They all repeated themselves, talking over each other.

“He’s spying on you guys? But why? So he can tattle to Santa?”

Their heads moved back and forth. No.

I felt that stirring of uncertainty and its trusty companion—fear. There was too much I didn’t know or understand about tonight or their world. I turned to the tawny reindeer to my right. “Prancer?”

“The elf chose his side,” Donner said gravely, not allowing Prancer to answer.

“Which side?”

“Not ours,” Comet said. “Wrong team.”

“Okay. So, there’s some sort of fight going on?” Nobody said anything, but I could tell my guess was correct.

“Mrs. Claus is mad at Santa,” someone toward the back said.

“And the elf is on Mrs. Claus’s side?” I hazarded.

I got a nod.

“I see. And he’ll tattle on you, and that’ll make the fight worse somehow?”

Another nod.

“But it’s not like Santa can ground you for sneaking out—it’s almost Christmas Eve. Doesn’t Christmas have to go on, no matter what?”

The reindeer shared looks. A few of them pawed the ground.

“Wait. Is something else wrong with Christmas?”

My stomach dropped as I caught their expressions.

But before anyone could answer, cold air hit the back of my neck, and I turned to see the barn door had opened.

My veterinarian acquaintance-almost-once-a-friend, all tall, dark and handsome with melting snowflakes twinkling in his wavy hair, was watching me curiously.

Crazy animal loving lady. Yup. That was me. Talking to a herd of reindeer in her barn about Christmas.

I turned back to the reindeer, my cheeks heated. Haden had to think I was an absolute loon. I tried to think up some brilliant reason as to why I suddenly had eight talking reindeer in my barn.

But the barn was empty.

“Hey,” Haden said, taking me in with that patient, assessing way of his as he came deeper into the barn, a hefty medical bag in hand.

He had the kind of gaze that made you feel thoroughly seen from the bit of toothpaste you missed at the corner of your mouth, down to the fact that you flushed a tampon into your septic system—which was a huge no-no.

But sometimes, secretly, it also made me feel like I was okay because, even though he probably saw all of my flaws, he didn’t cross the street if he saw me coming.

Sure, we avoided each other, but nothing that would hit the obvious-about-it scale.

Occasionally, he smiled, as if reading my less savoury thoughts about someone and finding them amusing.

And did I mention he was a good listener?

Whereas most women wanted men to be better at listening to them—like I had been with Kade—with Haden, I wanted to put stoppers in his ears.

It felt like he caught everything. And right now, he’d just caught me talking to a herd of reindeer about Christmas being in trouble.

Not that the reindeer were making themselves visible. Which meant, I’d simply looked as though I was losing my mind.

“I got your message, Trademark,” he said, and I refrained from rolling my eyes at the nickname.

My initials were T.M.—Tamara Madden—and so, of course, he called me Trademark.

As far as I knew, he hadn’t given anyone else a nickname, so I wasn’t sure if I was special, or just that annoying to him.

I was fairly certain it was the latter, as Kade had explained when I was seventeen, that I was a bother to Haden, but he was too polite to tell me so.

I’d been mortified and had essentially avoided Haden ever since.

I’d thought he’d enjoyed showing me the things he was learning in veterinarian school, and it had felt like we were having some really nice moments, connecting as future siblings-in-law.

Apparently not. On all accounts.

“I was just down the road,” he said, his voice that calm deep pool of comfort that soothed animals and their worried humans. “Thought I’d pop by on my way home.” He bent slightly, brushing the snow from his hair with crooked fingers.

“Great. Thanks,” I said, my voice too high and cheery. I couldn’t see a single reindeer, and wondered if they’d done some sort of spell to make themselves invisible to me, as well as Haden. “He’s over here.”

“You brought him in here?” the vet confirmed, his tone careful. Even though it was chilly in the barn, he unzipped his thick winter work coat, exposing a softly worn red-and-green check flannel shirt buttoned up over a white tee.

Oh, and those hands. I remember watching them deftly and confidently show me how to reshoe a horse. They were strong and capable. The kind of hands that could hold someone firmly, that could tickle, or stroke or protect.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus on our conversation, wondering why I was swooning over the man’s hands. That wasn’t like me. I’d chased away my childish semblance of a crush years ago.

“He was in the middle of the road.” I began moving toward the stall, eager to get Haden out of here. Because as much as I’d love a friendly face at my side during this crisis, his wasn’t it. “I’m sure you want to check him out and get to other emergencies before this blizzard gets worse.”

“You should never approach wildlife, especially if they’re hurt. It’s not safe.” His tone was firm, and the usual tension that vibrated between us like a tight cord returned. “And never move an injured animal of this size on your own. They can be unpredictable.”

A flash of resentment milked my anger over how I cared about his opinion of me.

“He was in the middle of the road in a snowstorm,” I snapped, my hands landing instinctively on my hips as I turned to face Haden. “What was I supposed to do? Leave him there for somebody to run over?”

I heard a soft “yeah” of agreement from behind me, followed by a hiccup. Blitzen. I casually scanned the barn, but saw nobody.

Then a flicking tail. They were hiding in the space just past the last stall, which was Rudolph’s. I could see them, but could Haden?

The man in question was silent for a long moment, his jaw flexing as he studied me. He was no doubt holding back the lecture sitting on the tip of his tongue, ready for stupid, well-meaning citizens such as myself. There was a flash of impatience in his dark gaze, and he suddenly looked tired.

“Can I see him, Ms. Florence Nightingale?”

I forced my hands to flatten at my sides when all they wanted to do was curl into fists. His tone was too tight, too falsely gentle, and it bothered me. It made me feel as though he was trying to soothe the unhinged, or that same bothersome young girl who’d asked him to save an injured mouse.

Although, he’d actually been really good about that when my eleven-year-old self had shown up at his house with a tiny mouse in a pink shoebox.

He’d nursed it back to health for me. What nineteen-year-old man did that?

No wonder I’d crushed on him so hard, and then taken his attention the wrong way.

Even though he was clearly too old for me.

He’d done a good job of taking my worries seriously, and making me feel seen and important.

“Maybe you can see him,” I said flippantly. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I don’t.” My confidence and sassiness faltered.

If Rudolph’s ability to let Haden see him failed, then what?

“Also, please note that your name calling is not funny,” I grumbled, leading him to the stall where Rudolph was napping, and hopefully sobering up.

“You’re not as cute as you think you are. ”

“So I’ve been told.” He stroked Dolly’s long nose on his way past, earning an affectionate huff from the old mare.

“And you haven’t bothered to correct that fatal flaw, huh?” I asked. “Figure you’ll find someone who loves you just the way you are?”

Behind me, Haden said smoothly, his tone light with amusement. “My self-confidence comes from media indoctrination. I believe I’m perfect just the way I am.”

“That’s the message for women. Not men. Men still need work.”

“My mistake.” He was right behind me now, and the gentle warmth of his deep voice chased away my earlier chill.

“Thank you for recognizing your room for growth,” I told Haden, testing how far he’d let me take the teasing.

“I’m an evolved man. Or at least trying to be.”

I gave him a second glance. We hadn’t allowed banter or teasing between us in a really long time. Not since before Kade had told me I was annoying his older brother with my endless animal questions.

Maybe Haden didn’t mind me as a person, but had simply wished I’d leave him alone.

That didn’t feel quite right, though. None of it did.

I think that was why when Kade had told me how his brother really felt, it hurt so much.

I normally did a decent job of reading people.

And I hadn’t gotten the vibe off of Haden that he wanted me to leave him alone when I was younger.

I could still remember reshoeing his dad’s Clydesdale, the two of us shoulder-to-shoulder while working on the massive beast’s front foot.

He’d been patiently showing me everything he’d learned at vet school, and his years with horses.

I was new to horses, and infatuated with them, and he taught me how to be confident and calm around them.

That had involved me talking to the animal while touching its flank, and running my hand all the way down to its hoof.

Apparently, Haden had only meant I should speak to the beast before touching it, but I’d taken it to the extreme, giving a full diatribe of my day while we worked.

Haden’s mouth had quirked in amusement when we’d finished, explaining I didn’t need to talk the entire time.

I’d felt a flash of immaturity and childishness in the shadow of his solid, sophisticated maturity.

And yet, I hadn’t felt judged by him, just a bit silly for taking his tip to excess.

We’d gone to work on the next horse, with him letting me take the lead.

Kade had come into the barn and, when we’d virtually ignored him, he’d later sat me down to tell me the truth.

Haden was tired of me following him around the farm asking questions, but felt obligated because I was practically family.

He also told me his older brother frequently led women on, and one of his best tricks was acting interested, and doing that attention-giving thing of his.

I’d fallen for it, clearly. But to make it worse, I was dating Kade, and had been mortified that he’d thought I was flirting with his older brother.

After that, I’d noted the flirty glances that followed the eldest Powell brother around town, and the way he had time and a smile for everyone.

That day was the last time Haden ever offered to show me anything about horses, reinforcing the idea that I’d been a bother.

Now in my barn, I held my breath, very aware that Haden might not believe in anything magical, such as Rudolph, and may see nothing but an empty stall. If so, I’d have to find myself a new vet for Dolly and my cat, Boots.

I led Haden into the stall, crossing my fingers, hoping Rudolph would be like Hugo the elf, and allow this kind human to see him.