Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
In spite of my internal emotional rollercoaster, I snickered. “Someone’s confident. We haven’t won anything yet.”
“True.” He furrowed his brow and nibbled at his cuticle. “I shouldn’t be disappointed if we get second or third. It’s not about winning, it’s about…giving. Huh.”
His expression turned thoughtful, but Vicki interrupted with the news that Team Vixen had won second place.
“And first place goes to…drum roll, please.” Vicki rapped a beat on the counter, beaming as she continued, “Hudson and Moody!”
Moody beamed as the room exploded in applause, chanting, “Speech, speech, speech!”
I set a hand on his shoulder, noting that he suddenly seemed overwhelmed. “It’s okay. I got this.”
“No, it should be me.” Moody straightened his spine, head held high, and motioned for quiet.
“Give us a good bah humbug, Moody!” someone called out, much to the crowd’s amusement.
“There will be no bah humbugs from me,” Moody said, rolling his eyes at the collective good-natured groan. “Not now. I know this is a house made of cookie, but to me…it feels like something more this year. It feels like a new chapter. It feels like hope. Don’t think for one second this was my idea. No siree, Bob. This was Hudson’s diabolical plan to foist holiday cheer on me and honestly, it should grind my gears. It doesn’t. Instead, I’ve been reminded that in spite of dark times, there is still joy in the world and much to be grateful for. So thank you, Hudson and thank you, Christmas Town. This is quite…splendiferous.”
The café and cantina erupted with another round of cheers and effusive shouts of “Happy Holidays” until a grinning Moody finally huffed, “Bah humbug.”
15
MOODY
Winning a local holiday competition was all well and good, but there were still books to be sold and work to be done. I was busier than ever in the days following our gingerbread win. Tourists flooded the town, bringing business to every shop on Holiday Lane. I was awake early in the mornings, preparing the shelves and restocking popular items. By the end of each day, I ached all over, exhausted from the holiday melee.
But you know what? I liked it too. I genuinely, abso-posi-toot-ly enjoyed everything about my job. How lucky I was to be surrounded by the things I loved—books, kind people, and endless goodwill. How lucky I was that a certain hunky cowboy waited for me, walked me home, made me tea, asked about my day, and held me in his arms.
Very lucky, indeed.
I had no complaints. Me. The same miserly individual who’d wished December would bug off and make way for January already had gone through a magnificent transformation. My blinders were off, my heart felt lighter, my head was clearer. I was…dare I say it…happy.
Except for one thing.
There was a wistfulness in Hudson I didn’t understand. On one hand, he oozed contentment, but I noticed him staring at me or into space at random times as if looking for answers to questions he had yet to formulate.
I didn’t push and no, that wasn’t like me. I knew better than most that some thoughts needed to be sorted on one’s own. I didn’t think he was tired of me or unsure of his move to California. If anything, he seemed excited for this new beginning at the ranch and he was an attentive lover and boyfriend and—
Gosh, I wondered if this was too much, too soon.
I didn’t want to be greedy and ask for more than he could give. I had very little experience in matters of the heart. Hudson had been through a rough patch with his previous relationship. And honestly, I wasn’t sure if we were currently in a relationship. Perhaps this was a casual sexual affair. That was how we’d started, and maybe that was all he wanted.
This was a January problem. I wouldn’t dare risk losing him. Not now.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be excited about what the day might bring during the holidays. It was a sweet feeling.
Of course, I could have done without the heart palpitations and bouts of unexplained dizziness that seemed to be a normal reaction to Hudson’s presence. They happened so frequently that I upped my salt intake to combat the possibility I had a mild form of anemia.
“Stop! No salt,” Vicki scolded, plucking the shaker from my hands. “Too much isn’t good for you, and you’ll kill the taste of my gravy. Go on…give it a try.”
I obeyed, nodding my approval. “The flavor is quite robust.”
She snickered, waving absently at a customer as she leaned against the café counter. “Thank you. I think I’m set for Christmas dinner. Are you sure you don’t mind that I’ve invited a few more guests this year?”
“Not at all. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Good. I’ll need two pies. Possibly three. Does Hudson have a sweet tooth?” Vicki inquired casually.