Chapter 21
~ Braden ~
Sammie has such a good time riding on the dogsled that she rewards me with nonstop kisses. My heart is full and warm, but mushing the dogs and sledding around the ranch is more effective than an ice water shower.
“That was so much fun,” she says. “I wish we could do it again.”
“Next year. I promise.” I unhitch the panting dogs. “I’m about to fall on my face. I just realized I didn’t sleep since the bed and breakfast back in California.”
“Oh, you’re right.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Let me help you put the sled away.”
“We can leave it on the porch until morning.” I hand her the harnesses and sleigh bells, too exhausted to think about clearing the accumulated snow from the shed doors. “Let’s get the dogs inside. They’re bushed too.”
“You two are the best.” She rubs both huskies at the same time, and they wag their tails, licking and nosing her. “Santa should do all his deliveries with dogsled. On Wolf, on Blitz, and Rover and Spot. Look there’s Donut with the red nose. There should be some girl dogs for you two. How about Vixen and Roxy?”
I set the sled on the porch and look back over my shoulder at where I’d parked my car. It’s quickly getting covered by fresh snow, swarming around it like thousands of white butterflies.
There’ll be no getting away tomorrow, but since Sammie and I agreed to come clean to Poppy, we don’t have to make a quick getaway either. I’m glad we’ll get to spend as much time as we can with him.
Once inside, the dogs shake themselves off and plod to the kitchen. They wag their tails weakly and sit attentively, clearly expecting a reward.
“Merry Christmas, puppies.” Sammie digs through the pantry and finds the biscuits. “While visions of biscuits and bones dance in your sweet dreams.”
Wolf and Blitz receive their gifts and go to opposite sides of the kitchen to crunch on them, looking happy and contented.
Sammie heaves a tired sigh, throws her arms around me, and swings around with me. “This was better than anything I expected. Someday, when they write the book on American Christmas family traditions, we’ll have to add a chapter on mushing.”
“Mushing and biscuits.” I kiss her. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for visions of soft, fluffy pillows and a warm featherbed. Jack Frost on the windows, and the pitter-patter of reindeer hooves on the roof.”
“Why, Braden, reindeer are overrated. Let’s go upstairs.”
“We once had a caterpillar pulling a snail shell sled.” I drag myself after her up all three flights. “My mom made up a storybook with pictures. I don’t know what happened to it.”
“Maybe Poppy has it,” Sammie says, collapsing on the armchair. “Wish my mom was here. She’d have me out of these clothes, hang them up, pull on my nightgown, and tuck me into bed before I have a chance to yawn.”
“You should call her tomorrow and wish her a Merry Christmas.” I remove my clothes, leaving everything on the floor, too tired to pick up after myself.
Instead, I crawl under the covers in nothing but my boxers and socks.
Sammie watches me for a while, obviously too tired to tease me or give me a hard time. Finally, she grabs her nightgown and climbs to the top bunk.
Her snow clothes shower onto the floor, and when I open my eyes, she’s leaning over so her face is upside down to mine.
“Have you ever kissed anyone upside down?” she asks, giggling in a husky way.
I take the hint and force myself upright, straining against my aching muscles. Meeting her halfway, we lock lips, top to bottom, and I can’t say I don’t like it, although it feels weird to have my nose bump against her chin.
“I can now say I have.” I smile against her lips. “Merry Christmas, Samantha Reed Powers.”
“Oh? You’ve changed my name?”
“Under this roof, you’re a Powers, and I’m proud to be your… I’ll let you fill in the blank.”
She smiles but doesn’t suggest a word. “Good night, Big Braden Bratwurst. Sleep tight and sweet dreams. May Santa give you not only what you want, but also what you need.”
She raises herself back to the top bunk and leaves her words hanging in the air.
I know what I want—my grandfather to get well.
