One Night with a Nutcracker (Reindeer Falls)

And then there’s Jake.

Why couldn’t he be a normal, cute guy I could make out with? That’s the kind of holiday distraction I need, not the distraction of a looming eviction. Yes, he’s cute. But he’s not normal. Or maybe he’s too normal for me. That’s the real issue, I suppose.

Still, I’m annoyed.

He just shows up out of nowhere tossing dirty looks at my goats. He could’ve been nicer. Though I guess it was sort of nice for him to clean up the barn. Even in a few hours, it’s looking better than it has in years. But it isn’t my fault it’s been in disarray in the first place. I’ve had a lot going on, taking care of all of these goats and keeping everything afloat.

But yes, I do appreciate what he did for the barn. Even if he didn’t do it out of the kindness of his own heart.

Or did he?

No, he definitely didn’t.

But maybe… maybe we could win him over. I could show him a little more kindness, right? Fight sour with sugar? Catch more flies with honey or whatever the saying is?

Ooh, honey. I need to do more honey soaps.

But I also need to focus.

I could at least invite him in to take a shower. The Airstream bathroom’s cute as all hell, with a teensy metal sink set into a recycled wood countertop, tiny aqua penny tiles in the shower and slightly larger, white hexagon tiles on the floor. In fact, the entire Airstream’s cute as hell. Original avocado countertops in the kitchen, with fresh vintage-inspired orange floral wallpaper. Art pieces that I’ve picked up from local artists. Cozy throw pillows and a pink wraparound booth at the dining table.

My hippie boho vibe might not be for everyone, but it feels like home to me.

It wouldn’t be a terrible imposition if I let him sleep on the kitchen table, which converts to a bed. I’d have my curtain for privacy, and maybe if he got to know me a little he’d develop enough goodwill to decide against building his golf course.

Oh, curse my soft, animal-loving heart for even considering it, but even a wild raccoon like Jake deserves better than the impromptu goat retreat I’ve gifted him. Besides, I can’t sleep when I feel this bad.

I sigh, throw my legs over the bed, pull on my robe and shove my feet into a pair of beat-up Uggs. I disturb several of the goats outside, who bleat at me with confusion as I walk by. I give them a few scratches behind the ears as I tell them to go back to sleep, and then I find Jake.

But he’s not asleep. Instead, he’s fighting with the shower, turning the nozzle this way and that so that he gets more than a trickle of water. He’s still in his clothes from earlier, but he looks like he might’ve been sprayed a few times because his shirt’s wet.

“I might’ve forgotten to mention the shower out here is temperamental at best.”

He makes a noise that can only be classified as a grunt as he stares at me, then at his dirt-streaked clothing. “You’re telling me I’ve got to drive over to my brother’s house to shower?”

“Well…” I stare at him for a moment as I second-guess if I’m being too soft and trusting and, well, too much of a hippie. Surely he has potential if I give him a chance, right?

My slutty side says yes.

“You can use the shower in my Airstream,” I finally offer. “And there’s a spare bed, if you want it.”

“You’re serious?” he questions, looking both relieved and suspicious.

“I am.” I nod, firmly. “I guess you could say I’m a good person.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, crossing his arms and not taking his eyes off of me.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“I’m a lawyer. I don’t believe anyone.”

I scoff at him and with a roll of my eyes head back to my Airstream. I don’t look back, but after a moment, I hear Jake walking behind me. He’s grabbed one of those fancy, hard-shell rolling luggage things that I always see on Instagram. Damn Instagram. Always changing up the algorithm so it’s next to impossible for business owners like me to sell our stuff.

“Here we are,” I say, gesturing up to the Airstream. “Come on in.”

Jake blinks at it, taking it in, making me feel self-conscious even though he’s obviously seen Ariel before.

“Very festive,” he says, gesturing at the blinking pink and white lights I’ve attached to a little cluster of tree branches I’ve fashioned into a makeshift tree.

“Thanks,” I say. “Time to get in the spirit, you know? Plus, I don’t want Maggie on my bad side.”

Jake smirks. “No, no, you don’t.”

I brighten. “Oh, you know her!”

“Not really,” he says. “I just know she’s the Christmas cop giving my brother a hard time.”