She nodded. “That’s true.”
Ashely approached Jack; her hands tucked in her back pockets. “Thank you for being so nice to her. She doesn’t have a lot of friends.”
Jack shifted slightly away from Ashely and her daisy perfume. It smelled… wrong this time of year. “It’s easy. She’s a great kid.”
She suddenly stepped forward and pecked a kiss on his lips.
Jack jerked away. “What was that for?”
She pointed above his head. “You need to watch where you’re standing.” She walked away.
Jack reached up and yanked down the sprig. The darn thing was going to get him in trouble. He headed back to the main room, but found Faith in the rocking chair with Ryder instead of Natasha.
Faith scowled at him.
“What?” he asked.
“From where I sit right here, I have a clear view of where you stood under the mistletoe for Ashley.”
He held up both hands. “I didn’t mean to. Mitzi hung this stuff all over.”
“You should be more careful.”
Jack groaned. “Did Natasha see?”
Faith rolled her eyes. “Yeah. You owe her an apology.”
He held out the offending sprig. “Mistletoe!”
She gave him an oh-please look. “Fix it, Jack. I like her—a lot.”
He put his hands on his hips. “So do I.”
Faith brightened. “Good. Then we agree. Will you check on my dad? He’s not supposed to eat more than three cookies today.”
“What about Natasha?” he asked. Only seconds before, she was telling him to fix this.
“I’d let that one cool off if I were you.” She sniffed as she lifted her chin.
He threw both hands in the air and spun on his heel to find Doc. Why was it so hard to be with Natasha? He felt like he was flying uphill, into a headwind, with an elderly reindeer.
And it was all worth it.
The work. The struggle. All of it–totally worth it.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Natasha stood near the heater, wishing she had one for both the front and back of her body because she felt like a rotisserie chicken turning around every thirty seconds to heat the other side of her.
“Natasha!” Miguel called from behind the camera. “We need you out here. Today, Sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she said as she passed by on her way to the North Pole, where she and the other elves were hard at work making toys. She kept a smile on her face.
Miguel dropped his shoulders. “Sorry. I had lunch at the diner in town, and the server called all of us sweetheart—multiple times. I think this place is getting to me.” He rubbed his forehead.
Natasha nodded in acknowledgment of his apology.
Jennifer arrived, carrying two cups of coffee from the food trailer. She shoved one at Miguel. “What aren’t we filming?”
