by Pippa Grant
Two
Clint O’Dell
(aka a Marine loving life and in complete denial about what it’s missing…)
“Definitely a gerbil.” I nod at my brothers, secure in the knowledge that I’ve locked down the annual gag gift for our parents. “Mom and Dad are in desperate need of a Christmas gerbil. Maybe two. A boy and a girl so the gerbil situation can quickly get out of hand.”
Jace sighs and slides a beer across the bar to me. Christmas lights twinkle around the mirror behind him and Bing Crosby’s voice drifts softly overhead. “No.”
Ryan also shakes his head. “No way. George might eat a gerbil. Probably only if it were dead, since he’s lazy as hell. But better safe than sorry.”
“Especially if you’re the gerbil.” Blake laughs. “Though, if you didn’t ask Mom to babysit your raccoon so often, George wouldn’t be a legit concern.”
Ryan sighs. “I don’t want to, but every time Cassie has one of those fake contractions he freaks out worse than I do. He needs Grandma time and Grandpa pampering while we wait for the baby.”
We’re camped out at Wild Hog, Jace’s bar, on karaoke night. Also known as the night that I will forever show these peasants how karaoke is done.
With gusto.
And no apology.
The way I give Christmas presents—especially the prank ones.
“So you’re Team Gerbil?” I ask Blake. “Assuming we get a George-proof cage?”
“Fuck, no, bro. I’m getting them—”
“A bottle of wine,” we all chorus for him.
“Wrong. Mom’s getting a scarf made from Chewpaca’s wool, and Dad’s getting that new fishing pole he’s had his eye on.” He pauses a beat. “And a bottle of wine.”
Naturally, since Blake’s winery is taking off.
Just like Jace’s bar is thriving.
And Ryan’s family is growing.
And—thanks to the Marines deciding I needed to do a stint as a recruiter in the region—I get to be here with my family to see all of it.
I loved my assignment in Japan for the last four years, and I can’t wait to see where they send me next, but being home is special.
There’s no place like Happy Cat, not anywhere on earth.
“Okay, no gerbil,” I concede. “What about skydiving lessons?”
“What about another daughter-in-law?” Blake replies.
A sweet little Cupcake dashes through my thoughts—in clothes this time, sadly, though she wasn’t wearing a stitch in my dreams last night, except for that frilly apron—and it almost throws me off my game.
But it doesn’t. Because my game is strong.
As the baby of this bunch, I have an obligation to roll with the punches and keep my three big brothers on their toes.
I cock a finger at Blake and wink. “Brilliant. We’ll have Mom and Dad adopt Tucker, and then we’ll make him propose to Emma June.”
“He meant you, dumbass.” Jace is playing the grouch tonight, but only because his wife, Olivia, isn’t here to hang out with us. She’s with Blake’s wife, Hope, at a baby shower for Cassie that all the menfolk were specifically forbidden to attend.
Which is probably my fault.
I threatened to crash the shower with the karaoke machine and my most tone-deaf rendition of Salt-N-Pepa’s “Push It.”
But who are these fuckers to complain about having bro time?
I grin at all of them. “You want me to propose to Emma June? Done.” I spin on my stool. Emma June and Tucker are sitting at a booth behind us, so this’ll be quick and easy.
Blake and Ryan both grab me by a shoulder. Ryan clamps a hand over my mouth.
Am I the kind of asshole who would try to break up someone else’s perfectly good relationship? Of course not. Especially when I’ve got Cupcake on the brain in a major way lately.
But do my brothers believe I’ll do it?
Hell, yeah, they do. They’re convinced there’s nothing I won’t try, a misconception I encourage since I enjoy being the unpredictable one of the family.
Plus, it’s fun when they try to physically restrain me.
Wusses.
I lick Ryan’s hand—tastes like beer bottle—but he’s the oldest, and it’s not the first time I’ve pulled a palm lick with him. So not only does he not let go, he retaliates with a titty twister.
As if that’ll stop me. It’d take full-on nuts in a vice while someone took a blow torch to my toes to make me consider calling for mercy. Don’t fucking cross a Marine. Oo-rah.
Also, with one hand on my chest and one hand on my mouth, Ryan has been forced to let go of my right arm. Amateur mistake.
It takes me a mere three spins and five seconds to get Ryan twisted like a pretzel on top of the bar and Blake in a headlock.
“Sheriff gets called,” Jace warns, “and I’m telling him to take all three of your asses to jail. Right, Briggs?”
Sheriff Briggs pauses inside the door of the bar, takes one look at the four of us, and raises an imaginary glass. “Oo-rah, O’Dell.”
I grunt back at him. He was never a Marine, but he likes me.
Naturally.
I’m awesome.
“Some help here, Sheriff?” Ryan grunts.
“Looks like a family matter,” Briggs replies.
“Fucking favorite,” Blake mutters.
I grin, release him, and untangle Ryan, who whooshes out a relieved breath while he slides off the bar.
He grabs me, and I let him noogie my head. “Missed you, you little asshole.”
“I know. Don’t know how you lived without me.”
All three of my brothers crack up, but they know I’ve got a point. I’m not now, nor have I ever been, your stereotypical youngest child.
I’m a problem solver, a closer, the one who sees trouble coming before anyone else and heads it off at the pass.
That’s why I’ll hop behind the bar later and help Jace recycle the nearly-empty liquor bottles before the shelf behind him gets so full it falls off the wall. Why I’ll swing by Blake’s winery tomorrow and fix the leaky sink he hasn’t had time to tackle yet—it happens when a man has a business to manage and is newly married to a woman who runs an animal sanctuary and the pair of them spend hours doing what newlyweds do best.
Hell, it’s why I’m ready to help deliver Cassie’s baby on the side of the road if needed. Ryan’s a firefighter, and I have a hundred bucks on a bet with Blake and Jace that he’ll ace being a first time dad—they think he’ll pass out after seeing his own wife in labor and drive into a ditch—but you never know.
So I’ll be prepared. Just in case.
“You know what this bar needs?” Ryan says to Jace.
“Higher-caliber clientele?” Jace deadpans with a pointed look at the three of us.
“Baked goods. I’m hungry for something sweet.”
My brain short-circuits, sending me on a hard detour to the Land of Cupcake. This time Noelle is wearing nothing but candy cane-striped socks and waiting for me with a dab of peppermint icing on her belly that only I can properly lick clean.
Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve noticed her, or even touched her. But it was different. She was different.
Not as skittish or closed off as when I first met her, when I rescued her from the top of her delivery car mid-ambush by Ryan’s cupcake-crazed raccoons.
She seemed more determined.
About something.
And there’s nothing sexier than a determined woman.
Am I looking for forever? Nah. I’ve got plenty of time for that.
But dating? Bring it on.
Especially if I can peel back the wrapper around this particular Cupcake—and not just in the getting-naked-together way. I’d like to know more about Noelle. There’s something undeniably intriguing about her.
“I can bake,” I say with a shrug. “Should I give Jace some Clint O’Dell special mud cakes for Christmas? Start a side business? Check it out. Already got a tagline—Marine Cook
ies: More Protein Than An Average Human Body Can Process Without Medical Intervention. I’ll make you famous.”
“Is it me, or is he extra ridiculous today?” Ryan asks, arching a brow at Jace.
“Probably smoked too much mistletoe last night.”
Blake frowns. “Isn’t mistletoe poisonous?”
I puff up my chest. “Dude. I’m a Marine. It’d take a lot more than mistletoe smoke to kill me.”
“I take it back,” Blake says dryly. “Don’t get Mom and Dad another daughter-in-law for Christmas. God only knows what kind of personality it would take to be your match.”
I clap him on the back. “It’s okay to admit you’re afraid to be outshone by that level of awesome, dude. Let it out. Circle of trust here. You’re safe. We still love you.”
Ryan chokes on his beer.
Jace cracks a smile.
Blake pulls me in for a one-armed hug and another set of knuckles to the head.
It’s so damn good to be home.
I fuck around and give my Marine buddies shit all the time too, but it’s not the same.
And there weren’t any Cupcakes in Japan, I’m reminded as the front door opens, and Noelle darts inside, slamming it behind her.
She’s wearing dark jeans and a blue wool sweater with her dark hair smoothed back and a canvas bag advertising her shop, Second Chance Cupcakes, hanging from her arm. Her gaze roams the comfortable bar, and her bird-bright brown eyes land on me, making my heart punch my breastbone.
I leap back to my feet. “Rabid goose on the loose again?”
She shakes her head. “No. Nope. All happiness and cheer. Jingle bells and roasting chestnuts and a reindeer! If you can imagine that.”
There it is again. It’s positivity, but it’s a determined kind of positivity. A stand back and hold my beer kind of upbeat attitude.
Sexy. As. Hell.
“Bully reindeer?” I ask. “Like the kind that mocked Rudolph? You need me to call Santa?”
She flinches, then forces a smile. “No. No, just…a random reindeer.”
“Christmas omen.” I nod. “Means you’re getting a good present this year.”
“He’s such a goner,” Blake mutters to Ryan.
I kick a foot back and knock his stool out from under him without looking, then reach behind me and catch him before his ass hits the floor.
I’m not showing off for the girl.
Just putting my brother in his place.
“Gotta watch that spiked eggnog,” I say, calm and mild as you please.
And then I notice the way Noelle’s peeking anxiously through the window closest to the door and realize she might actually be serious.
Could there be a reindeer? Loose in Happy Cat?
“Wait. A real reindeer?” I head to the door.
She nods. “Or a moose or…something.”
We all gather at the window and peer out, and huh….
There’s a reindeer.
Walking down the street, coming from the direction of the old clown school.
“Aw, hell.” Blake whips out his phone. His wife runs an animal sanctuary in town, and I have no doubt he’s calling her.
“Hope take in any reindeer the last few days?” I ask him.
“Not yet. But looks like she’s about to.”
“He doesn’t seem mean or aggressive,” Noelle says quickly. “I just don’t have the best luck with animals lately.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got this.” I squeeze her shoulder. She leans into me, but tenses at the same time, so I pull my hand away. “You karaoke? I was just about to show these tone-deaf second-class wannabes how it’s done.”
“We’re only tone-deaf because we grew up with Clint,” Ryan offers. “We never got a chance to hear what good singing sounded like.” He sidles up next to us. “So who’s going after the reindeer?”
“Me,” Blake and I say at the same time.
He holds out his free hand while the tinny sound of ringing comes from his phone. “Wait. You can’t just go chasing a wild animal. Let’s see what Hope says.”
“Dude. I get paid to chase wild animals.”
“Yeah, but those guys are just trying to shoot you. Not gore you with their horns.”
“Or infect you with rabies,” Ryan chimes in.
“Or get you on the naughty list,” Jace agrees.
I see what’s going on here. “You just want me to stay and start the singing.”
Jace huffs. “As if. Before Clint moved back home and shattered everyone’s eardrums, karaoke night was a big draw,” he explains for Noelle’s benefit. “Now people stay away for fear of sustaining lasting trauma, but we give him an A for effort.”
“Or for awful,” Blake stage-whispers.
Carl and Frank, two locals at a nearby table, exchange a relieved look, and go back to their beers. They’re probably thinking they’re getting out of hearing me sing since we have to save a reindeer.
Save Christmas, basically.
As you do on a regular, random Sunday.
Noelle squares her slender shoulders. “Can I sing?” she asks Jace.
“Do you sound better or worse than a drunken parakeet in an electric chair?”
“You’re giving Clint too much credit,” Ryan says. “Parakeets are naturally musical creatures.”
“Maybe a little better?” Noelle holds up a hand and demonstrates a little with her thumb and index finger. Her fingernails are short and clean, and she has a streak of dried green frosting on the back of her hand.
It’s adorable.
“Then you’re already sixty times better than what we usually get,” Jace says. “Stage is yours.”
Blake ducks his head and has a quick phone conversation, ends it with a bunch of No, I love YOU mores, then pushes the door open.
I glance back at Cupcake, who’s flipping through Jace’s karaoke catalog, and follow Blake out into the crisp winter air.
Of course I’m going to help herd a wild reindeer. It probably escaped from a petting zoo or something, and Hope’s farm is the best place for a creature in need.
I want to help this lost animal. But for the first time in a long time, I also want to do something purely for pleasure—not a shred of duty or familial obligation involved.
I want to stay and listen to Noelle sing. Maybe even join her.
See if I can’t break through a few more layers of her shell.
It’s the neighborly thing to do, and we’re both new to Happy Cat, in a way. I might’ve grown up here, but I’ve been away for six years, and nothing stays the same.
Except for the part where no matter what, we’re a community. We stick together.
And I think the Cupcake lady needs to know she’s welcome to stick with us.
With me in particular…
But by the time Hope arrives with her trailer and I sweet-talk the clearly dazed and confused deer into a harness and load him up, Cupcake is gone.
Vanished into the night like the Christmas lights in the square on New Year’s Day.
But I’m not sad about it—I don’t get sad. I’m not a sad sort.
I’m the determined sort.
Just like Cupcake.
Now if I can just get her feeling determined about me…
Three
Noelle
When I moved to Happy Cat, I didn’t know what to expect.
I knew it would be different than Atlanta, where I’d been living for the past two years. And I was pretty sure I’d like it—the town website is adorable and any place that’s famous for both having a sex toy factory and inventing Dildo Football is my kind of kooky.
I expected I’d make some friends, maybe fast, maybe slow.
But spending three days getting my ear talked off by everyone who walks into my bakery with gossip about a man Christmas whisper-ing a skittish reindeer into a trailer wouldn’t have entered my mind.
But that’s exactly what happens.
I heard he pulled a street sign out of the ground, be
nt the pole, and used that as a makeshift collar.
I heard he speaks reindeer. Fluently. Learned it while he was overseas.
I heard he leapt onto its back, grabbed it by the antlers, and rode it all the way to Hope O’Dell’s animal sanctuary.
Rode? I heard they flew!
The truth—which I watched through the bar window—was that he and Blake cornered the frightened animal, and Clint kept talking low and soft to him until he was able to get a harness around his neck and lead him to Hope’s trailer.
But even knowing the facts firsthand, I understand the fascination with Clint. It’s not that much of a stretch to believe he could ride a reindeer miles through the cold and dark. And maybe make it fly.
If he dazzled it with that magical, sexy smile of his…
Which I’m not going to think about.
I already went around the world once with my dad when he was in the service.
And while it wasn’t a bad childhood, and I’m all about embracing whatever good stuff the universe has to offer—and hopefully breaking the string of bad luck that’s been following me around lately—I refuse to fall for a man who’d ask me to do it again.
That’s why I slipped out the back door of the bar before Clint came in the front.
And why I’ll be staying focused on my Turn My Life Around Plan: Part One: Embrace the Holiday Spirit before moving on to Part Two: Break the Bad Luck Streak.
The unusually chatty people of Happy Cat aren’t the only odd part of my new home. There is also the matter of the Cupcake Curse and my potentially haunted bakery.
It could just be a weird coincidence that almost everything I’ve made since starting my business seems to be structurally flawed in some way or ends up splattered on the pavement—or on some unsuspecting person unlucky enough to end up in my path—but I can’t deny the eerie feeling lingering in the air when I’m alone in the bakery late at night. I’ve been an enthusiastic baker since I was a kid and never had recipe problems like these before.