“That would be incredible!” She grabbed both of his arms and planted a kiss on his lips. “Do you know what this means?”
He smiled, slipping his arms around her. “You want to kiss me?”
“Well, yes.” She pecked a kiss on his lips. “It means you saved Christmas! My Christmas, at least.”
Jack gave her a mischievous half-smile. “Why don’t you take a minute and tell me how happy you are—deeply, thoroughly, intently happy.”
Laughing, she kissed him, threading her fingers into his hair and allowing herself to get lost in the moment. Christmas on Reindeer Wrangler Ranch was truly magical.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
It was Christmas Eve, and instead of being by the fire in the living room, singing carols, munching on cookies, and playing games with his family, Jack paced in front of the diner on Main Street.
The movie’s ending scene, where Santa rides in to claim his reindeer, was all set. In this case, there would be just one instead of eight reindeer—because the studio couldn’t afford eight. Bogart would finally live up to his name and play the cool cat in a movie. He was much more chill about the whole thing that Sparkle, who had insisted on being brushed from nose to tail this afternoon. Pax agreed, grateful to be behind the scenes once again. He stood off to the side with Sparkle, speaking soft, encouraging words in her velvet-covered ear.
Jack had hardly seen his little brother this season, and he looked forward to Christmas morning with him.
Dad’s Christmas-red Dodge truck came into view at the end of Main Street, where security set up a roadblock. Jack breathed a sigh of relief. He never doubted his father would show up, but he cut it kind of close. Through the front windshield, he could see Dad wearing his Santa costume, sitting in the passenger seat. Mom drove, wearing her thickest coat and a green scarf.
A worker motioned for them to go to the block’s other side, where they were using the library’s parking lot for overflow. Mom shook her head. He walked over to talk to her when she rolled down the window. She waved her hands as she spoke, motioning several times to the movie set and then once to Dad. The guy leaned into the cab, got one look at Dad’s suit, and waved them through.
Dad wore his Santa suit—custom-made by none other than Gail Kringle herself. Dad insisted that if he was going to be famous, he’d become famous wearing the suit Mrs. Santa had stitched for him all those years ago. That suit brought him and Mom together, and it was as much a part of their love story as the ring on her finger.
Mom’s face pinched with worry, illuminated by the streetlight overhead. Jack ran down the street to her side of the truck. As soon as she rolled down her window, Dad started coughing—hard. He hacked, and his body bounced with the force of it. He held a handkerchief over his mouth.
Mom’s brows came together. “He’s not doing well, Jack. Just getting dressed wore him out.”
“I’m fine,” Dad insisted between coughs. He sipped from a water bottle, but it didn’t help much.
Jack stepped back and searched for Natasha. They made eye contact, and he crooked his finger.
She jogged over, her eyes alight and her smile wide. “It’s great to see you both,” she said as she approached the open window.
Dad’s coughing answered her greeting. She stopped a foot away from the cab. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” said Mom. “Yes,” said Dad.
She looked at Jack to give an honest answer. As much as he wanted to do anything for this woman, he couldn’t see putting his dad’s health at risk for a movie. Cupping her elbow, he lead her away from the loud truck so they didn’t have to yell to be heard. “Dad’s not doing well. I’m not sure about getting him out in this weather.”
“Cold air is good for the lungs,” Dad yelled.
Mom rolled up the window.
Natasha stared at the truck for a moment. She gulped and pulled at the scarf around her neck. “Jack, this is the last night of filming. There’s no happy ending if we don’t get this Santa scene. We areknownfor our happy endings.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “I know. But it’s my dad.” He spun his hand around in the air, telling Mom to turn around and go home. She nodded. Dad fell back against the seat, looking sad but relieved.
Natasha was being torn in two, it was right there in her eyes, and it was killing him. “I’ll be Santa,” he volunteered.
She rubbed his smooth cheek. “No beard.” Her gaze was unfocused and off to the side as she worked through the problem. “Is there anyone else in town? Anyone?”
“No.” He dropped his chin to his chest. His family was the only Christmas family in North Dakota. The nearest Santa who could help was prepping for the Big Ride.
She grit her teeth. “Okay then. I gotta do what I gotta do.” She marched away, her shoulders back and her head held high.
“Nat!” He raced after her. “There’s got to be another way.”
“There’s not, Jack. I’ve tried every avenue and chased every lead. This was my last hope.” She shook him off. His mouth fell open in surprise. She stopped and faced him. “I’m not mad at you. You’ve done all you can. I’m disappointed in myself. I’m sorry if it comes across wrong. I just need a couple of minutes to pull myself to—.”
