She blushed in that pretty way she had.
I like youwas on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to hold it in. He wasn’t ready to give up the life he’d planned—the solitary life of his own where he was the king of his cabin and the master of his Christmas tree. He allowed her hair to fall through his fingers and then moved his arm to shift into drive. “Besides, it’s about time you meet Otis.”
She chuckled. “Can’t wait.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Two days.
Felix had been in the stall for two days. The solitary confinement took a toll on him that was hard to ignore. His eyes were constantly wide, and he paced like a caged tiger, rubbing his hide on the walls and pulling out his hair.
He was patchy.
Clove tried to explain to him that he should not do that, but he couldn't seem to help himself and she ached because of it.
She didn’t know what to do. Hoffman wouldn’t let her take him out for walks because the mayor hovered every time she came to visit. She’d wondered how he knew she was there. Yesterday, she’d discovered the camera on the corner of the building. It was comforting, in a way, to know that someone watched Felix 24/7, but it was disconcerting that that someone was Mayor Winston.
In an effort to help Felix calm down, Grandma took a camp chair and her knitting and sat with him for a few hours. She told every story she could think of about her life. Clove wasn’t even sure some of them were true.
Yes, she’d run away with Grandpa when they were only seventeen.
Yes, the two of them lived in a Winnebago for several years wearing bell bottoms and beaded vests. Grandma’s hair was down to her belt loops and Grandpa’s mustache could be used to scrub the floor; it was so thick.
Yes, she’d marched in Washington—though she didn’t want to get into politics.
But . . . had she really flown an airplane? Consulted a mood ring on which state to settle down in? Sang with Abba?
Clove wasn’t so sure she bought the stories, but at least they entertained Felix for a while.
Not even Grandma’s love had been enough to calm him down for long. She’d cooed and complimented, brushed and hugged, and as soon as she left, he started pacing again.
Drake said he needed to fly. That flying was as much of an instinct for him as eating, and denying himself would cause him to go crazy. But there wasn’t a safe space for him to take to the skies.
“We have to get him out of there.” Clove grabbed a hammer off the worktable and smacked her palm. They were in Otis’s workshop finishing up the dog sled. The trailer was done, but Drake had promised Otis he’d fix up the sled so he was pounding out the twisted metal runners on the anvil.
Seeing his muscles flex and hearing the clang when he struck the metal was a pleasant distraction. Clove should not be thinking about Drake as a hottie right now, but how could she not when he was literally bending metal with nothing but his own brute force?
Cranberry stuffing! The man had skills.
He took every opportunity to touch her, but didn’t try to kiss her. A fact that was starting to tick her off because the longer it took for him to kiss her, the more she thought about it. Like right now. She should be doing something productive and instead, she was drooling over Drake.
So. Not. Helpful.
Her phone beeped, and she reached for it, thankful for the excuse to pry her eyes away from the muscles on his back and the way they flexed and rippled as he worked. Maybe if she held her phone just right while she read the text, she could take a picture of Drake and …
No! Focus!
“Hello?”
“Hi,” said Faith. Drake got tired of handing his phone to her every time someone in his family called with a question and gave them her number. She didn’t mind one bit. Faith was professional, but she also treated Clove like a friend.
“Hey,” Clove jumped into the convo. “Did you get the package?” she asked right off. Faith had ordered gifts online for Ryder, and they’d gotten lost somewhere between Seattle and North Dakota.
“No!” Faith said, scandalized. “The tracking says they’re in Arizona now. The company swears they’ll have them to me by Christmas Eve, but that’s in six days and I have zero faith in them now.”
Clove frowned. “Do you have a backup?”
“Yeah, Santa.” Faith quipped. “Ginger won’t let me down. Switching gears–”
