Her eyes went to his chest to make sure he was still breathing. “Are you alive?”
“Yeah.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Name?” she prompted as nicely as she could.
“I’m not sure I want to tell you.”
She scowled. “Why not?”
“You attacked me with a tire iron.” He threw the words out like knives.
Indignation fired inside. Obviously, she felt bad about it, or she wouldn’t be driving him to get help. “I wouldn’t have done that if you weren’t breaking into my barn. What would you do if you were in my situation?”
He lowered his arm and studied in her what little light there was on First Street. He sighed. “I’d probably want to hit them with a tire iron.”
She felt oddly validated. And then the shame of her actions flooded her. “I’m so sorry. Please believe that I don’t usually go around hitting people.”
“I know.” He shifted carefully.
She eyed him warily. Exactly how long had he been watching her? Was he some stalker who’d picked up her picture on social media? Or had her ex sent him to find out if she had money? If so, the joke was on him. “How?”
“Because you were always a sweet kid.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
He chuckled. “You don’t remember me—do you?”
“Should I?”
“I’d like to think I left an impression.” He had a smidgen of satisfaction and a smudge of overconfidence that was adorably handsome. If this wasn’t the strangest thing that had ever happened to her, she might think he was cute. He turned his head to the side, offering his profile. “Look close.”
She did her best to scrutinize him in the Christmas lights that brushed through the windows. “Sorry. I got nothing.”
He sighed. “Forest Nicholas.”
She slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward.
His good arm reached out to stop him from flying into the dashboard. “What the peanut butter fudge?!” he snapped.
“Forest Nicholas?” she asked in disbelief. At the very name, she was taken back to her elementary school years where the little boy with cornflower-blue eyes painted her hair brown in art class and left a melted candy bar that looked like poo in her desk. “Forest Nicholas,” she repeated.
He grunted, tugging on the seat belt that no doubt yanked his body, causing pain. “The one and only.”
Her stomach soured. “Candy cane poop,” she cursed. Forest might actually have a claim on Snowflake. One thing she remembered about the Nicholas family was that they wereveryprotective of their reindeer herd. Protective enough to send someone several states away to track one down and bring it home. They had a whole herd of reindeer; surely they could spare one. Especially one who was so important to a certain little boy
Noting how close they were to the Instacare, she got the car moving. Just like the tires rolling along, memories of Forest rolled over the top of her thoughts. Of all the reindeer wranglers in all of North Dakota, why did he have to be the one to end up in her small Idaho town? Didn’t he have, like, twelve brothers or something? She grunted at one particularly unpleasant memory.
“What?” he prodded.
His voice was soft enough, but she was getting riled up. Forest Nicholas. What right did he have to walk into—no, try and break into her life once again? She’d left him behind when her mom was re-stationed, and he should have stayed in the past.
“Nothing,” she spat.
“Sounds like it,” he said sarcastically.
His tone grated on her nerves as another memory came to the forefront of her mind. It was Christmas, and they were making wreathes out of Cheerios. He snuck from her pile and ate her art supplies. Her wreath looked horrible. She’d been too embarrassed to even show the teacher and took an F on the project. “You owe me an apology.”
