“Or they’re at work,” I offer, trying to burst her bubble slowly. If the real owner does come by to claim the puppy, he or she is going to have a real fight on their hands.
“I’ll keep the puppy.” Missy manufactures a stale smile for the doctor.
“Very well. I’d much rather she stay in a loving home, myself. I’ll have the secretary draw up the paperwork, and we’ll get your information before you go.” He takes off, and Missy squeals as if she just won a prize at the carnival.
“Looks like I just got a brand new puppy!”
“No way,” I tease as I scoop the exuberant pup back up. “Finders keepers. Besides, she was technically on my property.”
“Like you’ve signed a single paper.” She frowns for a moment, but that gorgeous smile blossoms right back.
“Okay, we’ll co-parent the dog,” I offer. “And when it’s time for me to leave, we’ll see who she likes best. It’s only fair.” I can’t help but give a greasy grin. I’ve practically built my childhood around teasing Missy. I don’t see why the fun should stop now.
“Fair enough.” She shrugs. “You can have her while I’m at the bakery. And once you take off for New York, I’ll find someone else to sit with her while I’m away.” She coos into those big brown eyes. “Isn’t that right, Snowflake?”
“Snowflake?” I pull her back. “No way. She’s cool, but she’s no Snowflake. How about Sport?”
Missy swats me over the hand. “She’s a girl, in the event you weren’t paying attention. It’s not feminine enough for her. Besides, she’s too pretty for that name. She needs something cheery, something that goes with the season. I don’t know, something sweet.” Her eyes gravitate to a wreath over the back of the door with the wordNoelwritten across it in bright red glitter.
“Noel!” we shout in unison, each trying to beat the other to the punch.
A laugh gets caught in her throat as she hooks those magical eyes of hers my way. “I guess it’s settled then. Noel it is.”
“Noel,” I repeat as I give the puppy a quick scratch behind the ears. “You have the best name. And you also happen to have the best daddy.”
“Ha!” Missy shakes out her curls as she lands a kiss just above the puppy’s nose. “Don’t you listen to him. You have the bestmommyis what you have.”
“I guess that makes us a family after all,” I’m quick to point out.
Her eyes flit to the ceiling. “More like a dysfunctional family.”
“Noel Holiday.” I rock the playful pup in my arms, and it feels nice. It feels right.
Missy is quick to snatch her from me again. “Noel Winters.” She glances my way with that devil-may-care grin blooming on her face. “I think I’ll take the rest of the day off and pick up some supplies before we head home.” We head out into the reception area, and I start in on the paperwork.
“It looks like Santa came early this year for me,” Missy bubbles, and the receptionist chortles right along with her.
“You must have been an awfully good girl,” the receptionist chimes.
“You got the awful part right.” I couldn’t help it. Missy and I have always walked the line of sanity in our relationship. Did I just say relationship?
“Oh, stop.” Missy bumps me with her hip. “I’ve been a very good girl.” Those violet eyes hook to mine with an all too familiar look that suggests she’s up to something.
Missy might have been a good girl, but something tells me she’ll be stepping down from her pedestal long enough to give me heck. And I’m not so sure I mind.
It’s starting to feel as if I never left Gingerbread.
* * *
As soon asMissy and I do a quick run through Pet Stop and pick up enough food, toys, beds, and blankets for a dozen dogs, I take her home and let her know I’ll gladly help pick up her car later. But she assured me it was fine. Holly has a spare key to the bakery van, and she’ll bring it by tonight.
Missy mentioned that she’d try to shore up the details on the rental and give me the keys as soon as tonight, so I head over to the Winters Tree Lot to say hello to my oldest friend, her brother.
The scent of evergreens hits hard as I get out of my truck, and I can’t help but smile at the bright red sign with block lettering. Nick and I used to run this place together year after year. Of course, Missy and Holly would swing by and help when they could. Missy used to help me collect all the scrap boughs off the ground and weave them into a wreath. My stomach cinches at the memory as if I were grieving it. I’ll admit that I’ve been missing home. The first few years in New York were exactly as exciting as I had hoped they’d be—they were better than I expected them to be. It was wine, women, and wild nights. I lit up the real estate scene as if I were born to run Manhattan. I couldn’t have asked for a better reception, but as the years went by, and my visits to Gingerbread dissipated in number, a nagging feeling deep inside of me felt as if something wasn’t quite right—as if some vital part of me was missing.
The tree lot is bustling with bodies, families with small children all gravitate to the reindeers corralled in the back, and couples with the looks of sheer enthusiasm cluster around the nobles and firs. I spot a familiar dark-haired dude near the front, closing out a transaction, and I head on over.
“You got any fifty footers? I’m looking to have a bonfire later tonight,” I tease, and at least three different people gasp as if I’ve just threatened to burn down the entire town. Torching a Christmas tree would be tantamount to doing exactly that. “Kidding.” I hold up my hands in surrender as Nick belts out a laugh.
