Stupid older brother and his maturity. “I’ve been gone for less than a month and you got a psychology degree.”
“Don’t tell me. Whatever.”
Drake couldn’t help but remember Clove’s description of her father and he realized how lucky he was to have a whole gaggle of family who cared about him. “Thanks for talking and stuff.”
“You're welcome. Call Mom tonight. She misses you.”
Drake smiled. He didn’t even care that Pax told him what to do. Not when his advice was that solid. “You got it.”
They said goodbye and hung up. Drake went back to packing, putting things in the places he wanted and not thinking about what his brothers would do. Maybe he was like them. Maybe that was normal as they were all a product of their raising.
Maybe being like them wasn’t such a bad thing.
His brothers were good men. Good men who loved their wives–if they had them (Pax)---and provided for their families.
Why had he fought against being like them so much? He did what he hadn’t been able to do and sat with that question for a minute. It slithered around inside of him until an answer popped up.
Because he wanted to be seen. All growing up, he’d worn hand-me-down clothes. Caleb’s blue shirts and Jack’s orange flannel and Forest’s brown coat and Pax’s welding overalls. And on and on and on. He was just the fifth boy in a line of boys, all with the same face shape and body type. Every teacher knew that the Nicholl’s boys were good kids, and the whole town knew he’d grow up to be a wrangler. Not that he resented any of that—he was proud of his family.
But sometimes, he just wanted to be him.
He didn’t want to be one of five.
Clove made him feel special–for lack of a better word.
She saw the man he was, dumb reindeer kidnapping ideas and all, and her breath hitched when they touched. That small gasp was an unintentional gift she’d given him, and he’d held onto it for a long time.
It helped that she didn’t know his brothers all that well and therefore wouldn’t claim that his neatness was like Jack’s, his work ethic matched Caleb’s, and his interest in welding and working with mechanical things was just like Pax. She also didn’t think he was a charmer like Forest even though he could out flirt Forest any day of the week.
He sniggered at the thought.
Forest would tell him otherwise. So would his wife, Natasha. She was Forest’s biggest fan.
He half-smiled at the empty drawer in front of him as he thought about holding Clove’s hand in the middle of his family’s Christmas Eve party. The image was as warm as a homemade blanket and as inviting as a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows.
The desire to celebrate Christmas alone every year—this year included—was gone. Replaced without a fight by the desire to whisk Clove out to the ranch where mistletoe hung from every doorway.
Yes, he was ready for the promise that kiss meant. He no longer believed he was destined to be alone. Although, until this moment, he hadn’t felt or understood what loneliness truly felt like. He got it now. Loneliness was wanting someone and not being with them–it was loving and not being loved in return. Although he believed Clove had feelings for him. Not love. Not yet. But the start of love.
So yeah. He was ready for that kiss—and the millions that would hopefully follow.
This was going to be the best Christmas of his life.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
The floor squeaked, and Clove lifted her foot. She silently growled in frustration. It didn’t matter where she stepped, the wood floor announced her intent to sneak out of the bed-and-breakfast like a bullhorn in the fog.
Not that Grandma would wake up. She could sleep through a tornado.
Still, it was the principle of the matter. Sneaking out meant silence, and she was trying her best. She held her boots and Grandma’s snow cleats that fit over them in her arms. Her plan didn’t include a lot of walking in the snow but she wanted to be prepared. She’d already ordered Grandma another pair and they should arrive within two days.
She’d debated leaving Grandma a note or not. She hadn’t taken too kindly to Grandma running off with Felix and Drake and didn't want to make her grandma feel like they had abandoned her right before Christmas.
She settled on setting a reminder on her phone to call her in a few hours.
Squeak!
“Son of a biscuit eater,” she growled and tossed her hands in the air. “I give up.” She walked normally down the hall and down the stairs. If Judy caught her, so be it,
